Page 12 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

Declan folds his arms, his eyebrows knitting together.

“How did that even happen? I mean, seriously. You left us to go grab ice-cream or something, and the next thing you know—you’re married?

” He looks at me, truly perplexed, like his brain is short-circuiting trying to make sense of it.

“Not a lick of sense…That’s just…?” He shakes his head, mumbling.

“Who decides that a marriage is a good idea at the end of a date? I’ve been on many dates.

Many, many dates. And never---not once—have I thought ‘heck, this was so much fun, we should get married next’. ”

His voice carries that same exasperation I feel, but I’m too wrapped up in my own frustration to respond right away. He looks genuinely anxious, like my mess might somehow unravel him too.

I drop my head, still gripping the cubby, my fingers digging into the wood. My eyes stay locked on the floor, trying to come up with the answer to his question, but all I can manage is a shrug.

Straightening, I say, “We went for a walk. There was a chapel.”

Declan’s jaw drops again.

“Of course there was,” EJ says, pinching the bridge of his nose as though staving off a migraine. “But unless Elvis held a gun to your head, why on earth did you go into the chapel? Forget that—why did you say ‘I do?’ What possessed you, man?”

I exhale heavily, staring at the floor. The memory plays out in vivid detail, the chapel and the way she said ‘I do’ without a speck of hesitation.

We spent the night together, still strangers in so many ways, but the connection was undeniable.

It felt real then, but now, everything feels out of place, like it wasn’t meant to last.

“It just felt right,” I finally say, my voice quieter now. “We were talking—about life, about everything—and for the first time in years, I felt…I don’t know. Like I could be with her forever.”

Declan and EJ exchange a look, their expressions as transparent as always. Declan’s panic is almost comical, while EJ’s curiosity borders on disbelief.

“Where’s she now?” EJ asks, just as Declan blurts out, “How did you keep this from all of us for a week?”

Declan points at EJ, shaking his head. “His is better. Do his question first.”

I let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, leaning my head back against the cubby, zeroing in on the lights and the way they’re slightly flickering if you look long and hard enough.

“I have absolutely no idea where she is. She left.” The words taste bitter, and I chuckle, hollow and forced. “I don’t know where my wife is.”

The laugh bubbles up again, uncontrollably, spilling out in a way that feels wrong.

“I’m sitting in a locker room in Canada, in the middle of the playoffs while I got married a week ago.

A week ago! I should be on my honeymoon, with my wife, figuring out where we should live or—“ I bark out another laugh, but it dies quickly, along with the thought of us picking out furniture for our home. “It’s insane.”

The absurdity shifts, the knot in my chest tightening. The situation suddenly doesn’t feel so funny anymore, instead my insides are churning with frustration.

How could she do this? How could she leave? Again?

I straighten abruptly, pacing in front of the locker. My mind runs in circles, replaying that night over again. Did I say something wrong? Not say enough? Did she already plan to leave, or did I push her away?

Without thinking, I whirl around and slam my fist against the edge of the cubby. I don’t even feel the sting in my hand, the pain silenced by the storm inside of me. “Why can’t she just answer the damn phone!”

The silence I’m met with is thick. When I glance at them, there’s a flicker of sympathy in their faces…and it stings.

“Are you going to call it quits?” EJ asks carefully. The worry etched across his features.

Calling it quits.

The thought really never crossed my mind. Not even once.

My only desire is to find her and talk to her.

“No.” As the word leaves my mouth, it turns sour wondering if she might want to file for divorce, or get an annulment or something. “At least I don’t know. I don’t know what she wants to do. ”

I take a seat on the bench, digging my fingers through my hair, urging the answers to come from somewhere.

“South, you’re a mess,” Declan says. “You have to tell Coach about this, and I’m guessing Harry too. As much as I hate to say it—this isn’t just about you. You can’t play when your head isn’t in the game.”

His words hit home. It wouldn’t be fair to me, or to any of the guys if I keep on going out on the ice when I’m this distracted. I could get hurt…my teammates could get hurt.

“Nobody knows about this, Dec.” I glance up at him, not sure how I’m going to share this with other people when I don’t have clarity.

“I need to sort this out before it gets out, and I need to do it with her. I can’t talk about this to anybody, and I can’t bear to think what would happen if the press got wind of this. ”

EJ nods in agreement before coming to sit down next to me, his blue eyes clear and focused as he looks at me.

“What’s the plan?” he asks.

I sigh. “EJ, I don’t know where she is. I’ve tried to reach her but she’s ignoring all my texts, all my calls…I don’t know what to do next.”

Declan slaps me on the shoulder. “Go full-on stalker mode man. I’ll ask Megan. That girl is a beast at finding stuff on social media.”

“That should scare you,” EJ mutters, smirking as he looks at Declan. “Means she knows every time you’ve been messing around.”

Declan waves him off. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—we’re not exclusive.”

“Tell her that,” EJ says dryly.

Taking out my phone, I unlock the screen and it opens on her social media page—right where I left off.

Her blonde hair and sad smile immediately catches my attention.

Someone has done me a favor and tagged her.

Her brother, Micah. He’s much younger than I am, but I owe him big time because on my screen is an image of Hannah with her golden hair tied up in a high ponytail as she is running around with a bunch of middle schoolers.

The golden letters on her t-shirt spelling Camp Grace.

I should’ve known she’d gone back to her happy place.

“Looks like we don’t need Megan for this then?” Declan asks, coming closer to get a better look. He gives a low whistle. “I forgot how hot she is.”

“Say what you want, you married yourself a real beaut,” EJ says with a smile.

A flicker of jealousy and pride mixes inside my chest. Hannah’s mine.

If she was yours, you’d be with her right now.

“She’s back home,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else, a plan already forming in my mind. “Tomorrow we’ll play the Leafs, and straight after the game I’m on a plane to South Carolina.”

“Wait, what?” EJ says, a deep frown on his face. “We have another game coming up, not to mention Coach will not allow you to go anywhere.”

I look at him. My mind is kind of already made up. “He will if I tell him I have an emergency. I might just have to bench a bit.”

“Bench a bit?” Declan says from my other side. “It’s the playoffs! You can’t be on the bench! You’re the starter—the one who sets the pace of the entire game. Come on, South, this just has to wait—“

“I have to do this, Declan!” My voice rises, determination now coursing through me. I need to settle this—one way or another. “I have to talk to her and figure it out. I can’t live like this one minute longer. ”

“And you want to do this how?” EJ asks. “You need permission. You can’t just leave.”

I know I’m going to have to tell the team’s manager. I’ll have to talk to my coach…which means more people will know about this mess I got myself into.

“Fine, no skipping out. I’ll talk to Harry. He’s always been very open door policy with the team. I’m sure if I explain myself to him, he’d understand the situation.”

“Understand what?” Harry asks, strolling into the locker room like he’s been summoned.

Our general manager is in his suit as usual, his broad build filling out the room as he adjusts his bright blue and red tie.

His salt-and-pepper hair is unkempt, his eyes tired with balancing everything this deep into the season.

“Why you’ve been playing like sh---” he stops himself, scratching at the five o’clock shadow along his jaw. “Why you’ve been off this whole week?”

“And that’s our cue,” EJ says, tugging Declan by the collar. “We’ll see you later.”

I nod, watching as my teammates leave the locker room. EJ tosses an encouraging look across his shoulder before shoving Declan out the door.

Harry Matlock is standing in front of me, his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face as he waits for me to give him an answer.

He might be the team’s GM, but he’s also kind of a father to everyone—strict enough and more than willing to keep us disciplined.

He likes being more involved with the team, unlike other managers.

He wants to keep his finger on the pulse of his team.

“I have to go back home for a day or two,” I tell him straight. There’s no point in beating around the bush. I need this and he’s the only person who can help me with it.

He laughs, but there’s not a drop of humor in it. “You’re joking right, Walker?” he asks, his brows rising.

“No, Harry, I’m afraid not.” I breathe out, hating that I’m even asking this of him.

His jaw tightens and he shoves his fists into his pockets. “Your brother better be on fire if you’re throwing this to me the night before we play the Leafs.”

“I know my timing isn’t great—“

“Not great?” he huffs, leaning forward. “Walker, this is ridiculous.”

“I’ll fly out tomorrow after the game and be back in time for our game back home.” It’s going to be tight, but I know I can make it. I just need to see Hannah, to at least try to get some sort of clarity on what’s going on.

His dark eyes bore into mine—searching for something, some sign of weakness, lies, a reason to shut me down. “You know this is not how this works.”

I sigh, frustration and determination warring inside me. “I know, but I have a situation to deal with.”

He nods, taking a minute to contemplate. “I’m going to need a little bit more than that if you want me to let you walk out of here three days before a game. A game that could take us to the finals, no less.”

I run my hand through my hair, the wedding ring burning against my chest as I look at my manager, knowing that I’ll have to come clean at some point. If I don’t, Harry is going to lose it—and then I might lose this chance to see Hannah.

“I got married in Vegas last weekend,” I say, meeting his eyes squarely.

His eyes widen as he drags his hand across his mouth, his features twisting in disbelief and frustration. “God help you if that’s true.”

I really do need God’s help. Not only in talking to Hannah, but in how to move forward through all of this. I know I jumped into this without talking to Him about it, but I also know He knows Hannah. He knows our history and I believe that everything happens for a reason. Even this.

“It’s true, Harry.”

Harry exhales deeply, the sound heavy in the quiet locker room.

“So let me get this straight.” He holds up a hand, ticking off points like he’s strategizing for the next play.

“You’re telling me you got married—in Vegas—in the middle of the playoffs?

And now what? You want to fly off and fix it? End it?”

“Yes, I want to fix it,” I say without sugarcoating it.

“You’ve got some nerve, kid. I’ll give you that.” His hand scrubs over his face again as he mutters something under his breath. “Who is she?”

“Someone I know from back home,” I say, hating the understatement when talking about Hannah.

He shakes his head, like my words are causing him pain. “Where’s she now?”

“In Georgetown,” I admit. “She left Vegas right after…well, after we got married. I haven’t seen her or spoken to her since.”

“Good,” he mutters, his voice laced with sarcasm. “More things that need to be managed.”

“Listen, I’ll sort this out,” I say firmly. “I just need my two days.”

Harry sighs again, his shoulder slumping slightly as he looks at me.

“I like you. That’s why I’m going to make a few calls and get you home after tomorrow night’s game.

You’ll have one day to sort this out on your own, Walker, before I have to start drafting a press release of some kind.

If anyone gets wind of this, it’s going to be a freak out session. You know that right?”

“I know,” I say, flooding with relief. “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry points a finger at me, his tone turning sharper. “Walker, you better come back with your head on straight and ready to play. This team needs you. You’re the guy they look to when the pressure’s on. Don’t make me regret this. ”

“I won’t,” I promise.

He doesn’t look convinced, but he turns toward the door, muttering again as he goes. “My starter. Married in Vegas…unbelievable.”

As the door swings shut behind him, I let out a harsh breath. The hardest part is still ahead, but at least I have a chance to make things right.