Page 14 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

“Same goes for you,” I call after him, earning a small smirk tossed over his shoulder before he disappears behind the treeline.

The hum of arriving cars catches my attention. Some of the parents have started to show up, and instead of heading over to say goodbye to my little group of fourth graders, I veer off to a smaller trail that leads towards the beach.

Walking these trails has always been one of my favorite things to do here.

My dad used to bring us on prayer walks, pointing out every little thing as an opportunity to reflect or give thanks.

Those moments felt so simple, so natural.

But right now? My thoughts are too heavy, too tangled, and I can’t seem to send them upward.

The waves come into view, their rhythm steady and unrelenting, and I let the sound fill the spaces in my mind. I glance back down at my phone, its screen glowing with more messages. My stomach twists, a knot of anticipation and uncertainty tightening around my insides.

We have to talk about this at some point, we can’t just ignore it.

I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry if I’ve crossed some kind of line.

Please, just talk to me. Sanders, I need to know what’s going on.

His words blur in front of me as my heart aches inside my chest.

What is happening?

How am I supposed to answer him when I don’t know the answer to the questions? I’ve typed and retyped multiple texts, but none of the words feel right. None of them feel big enough to describe what I’m feeling. I don’t know what to say to him, I don’t know what he wants to hear.

I don’t know what is right anymore.

The waves crash softly against the shoreline, the sound soothing the ache inside me.

Kicking off my shoes, I allow my feet to sink into the damp sand, the cool grains brushing against my skin with each step I take closer to the water.

Above me, the sky's the perfect watercolor blend of blue and gold, the last rays of sunlight shimmering across the water. But even the beauty and comfort of this place, can’t calm the storm inside my heart.

That night with Lucas was absolutely perfect.

Every single minute of it felt like it was a gift of God’s grace.

I’m not someone who believes in chance, but rather in providence.

That’s the way I felt seeing him after so long—in a city neither of us was supposed to be in the first place.

Perhaps that’s the feeling I was riding on the whole time I was with him.

That it was all part of God’s plan, a way to give us back what we lost all those years ago.

It felt like my obedience back then didn’t have to mean goodbye forever, that maybe it meant ‘just not yet’.

Even after we got married, after the ceremony when we went back to the hotel and we became husband and wife in every sense…It was a special moment. It felt sacred, like it was always meant to be that way.

But the morning after?

I glance at the horizon, the tide starting to pull back as the memory wraps around my heart, squeezing the air out of me.

I woke up with my head resting on his chest, his heart beating against my ear as the soft sunlight filtered through the curtains.

The warmth of his body next to me, his deep and steady breathing…

he looked content with his dark hair disheveled, asleep.

And then reality set in—harsh and unrelenting.

What had I done?

How could something so beautiful feel so terrifying in the light of day?

I was so sure Durham was the right choice.

I prayed through every step, through all the tears and I believed that my degree, my job, my new life was all part of God’s plan for me.

Not only that, but I’ve made vows and promises to God about how I’d become a wife one day, about how I’d approach his sacred plan for marriage.

I made promises to honor Him, to wait, to cherish the husband he picked for me.

And then I took something so holy and special and made it impulsive.

Reckless.

Stupid.

I pick up a smooth stone from the sand, running my fingers across its cool surface before hurling it into the waves, watching as it disappears beneath the water with a quiet splash.

I married Lucas that night because it’s something I wanted, I desperately wanted him.

I was faced with the reality of what it feels like to be separated from him, and I didn’t want that again.

I didn’t want to go through that again. So instead of praying, instead of asking God for his guidance, I took matters into my own hands.

I didn’t ask God if it was the right time or the right way.

I didn’t wait for His voice, instead I went with my own.

And now I’m left with this unbearable guilt.

How do I explain that to Lucas?

How do I apologize for what I’ve taken from him…from us?

Being here in Georgetown now, without him, doesn’t feel right.

I know I shouldn’t have left him there, but it was what I needed.

A break from the mess that I made. So, I made another selfish decision, without thinking or praying.

And yet, instead of finding the clarity I thought I’d get by putting distance between us, I feel like I’m sinking further into the depths of uncertainty.

What if the distance didn’t give me space to think…but room for more doubt?

I watch as the waves continue their path, ebbing and flowing without any interruption. Steady and always present. The rhythm of the waves is a stark contrast to the turmoil inside of me…it’s so serene it’s maddening.

How can I navigate to a point of clarity when nothing inside me feels still ?

This week, I’ve found myself watching Lucas’ games—something I’ve never done.

I’ve always been too unnerved whenever I see him and the life he’s built without me.

But this week, I made sure to excuse myself from dinner on his game nights.

In the privacy of my old room, I could stream the Rangers game, my heart caught between longing and relief.

Watching him out there—focused, driven, exactly where he belongs—brought me a strange sense of comfort, relieved to see that he is where he should be.

Tonight he has another game in Toronto before he’ll be back in New York.

He’ll be closer. The feeling both terrifies and excites me.

Micah’s words echo in my mind. “You don’t have to have it all figured out.”

He’s wrong though. I do have to figure it out. I’m Hannah Sanders, the oldest sibling. I’m supposed to have my life together. The responsible one. The example.

But instead…I’m a wreck. I’m failing on all fronts.

Tears start to burn at the back of my eyes, and I press my palms against them, trying to push it all back.

The blurry view of the waves stretches in front of me, the coolness of the water lapping over my feet.

The salty air stings my throat as the weight of everything I’ve been holding in hits me at once.

Stumbling back, I collapse onto the sand, unable to hold myself upright any longer.

It all comes pouring out. Every single doubt, every single lie, every single ounce of regret and self-hatred I’ve been harboring…not just this past week, but for the last five years.

“Father, please,” I sob, the words tearing from my chest. “I don’t know what to do. I have no idea which way to go. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I made promises to You, promises about marriage, about honoring what’s sacred, and I broke them. I broke all of it!”

Tears streak down my cheeks as I try to catch my breath. I haven’t been able to pray…not really. And even now, the words feel fractured, like they’re breaking apart before they can reach Heaven. Even my prayers are now broken.

Guilt and pain sear through me. But then comes a small sense of relief, just enough to urge me to continue, to let more spill out. To unburden my soul to my Father, my Maker.

These beaches used to give me peace and clarity. This has always been my quiet place, the place where I can meet Him. But now…it feels empty. Like I’ve left for too long and now I can longer find him. Like a part of Him is lingering here, but not all of Him.

It’s like He can’t hear me and I don’t know what to do.

I lift my eyes to the horizon, the waves still rolling steady and ceaseless. The constancy mocks me. What am I supposed to do when I feel like this—when it feels like I have nowhere to turn to, nowhere to find answers?

It’s like perfection is expected and I have nothing to give. Nothing that will be enough.

Scripture I’ve known by heart since childhood rises to the surface, my lips moving as I mutter them.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

“Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.”

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end.”

The verses feel hollow, as if spoken into a void. I try again, desperate for some connection…to God, to Lucas.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.”

But we didn’t trust in Him, did we?

We made this mess on our own. I got swept up in what Lucas and I once were, in what I thought we could be one day. How am I supposed to run to Him for forgiveness when I can’t forgive myself for what I’ve done?

Tears stream down my face as I press my forehead into my knees, pulling them up close, needing something to hold onto.

“Father, I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make things right with You, or with Lucas. What if this is too big? What if this is the thing that rips everything apart?”

The thought of feeling this far away from…everything and everyone…it’s unbearable.

The waves continue to crash onto the shore, the scene in front of me as unchanged as the ache in my chest, the guilt that’s weighing heavy on every part of my being.

I thought I might find peace here, that I might find clarity and comfort with God, but instead…

there’s nothing. Just a reminder that I’m not who I thought I was.

When I finally rise to my feet, there’s no answer. No clarity.

Just the overwhelming certainty that I don’t know what comes next.