Page 15 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

LUCAS

T he early morning light creeps over the horizon, soft hues of gold and peach stretching across the quiet streets and freshly cut lawns.

The familiar scent of salt and magnolia drifts through the cracked window, blending with the faint hum of cicadas.

Georgetown is just as I remember it. Achingly familiar, yet the tension of what’s to come is undeniably hanging in the air.

The truck’s engine rumbles loudly when I switch off the radio, driving into the familiar road that ends in the cul-de-sac where Hannah lives.

It’s not my own truck, which I would’ve preferred, but rather a rental that could get me from the airport to Georgetown.

Pulling up in front of Hannah’s parent’s house, I cut the engine with a heavy sigh.

I grip the steering wheel for a moment, staring at the house.

The red front door has definitely gotten a fresh coat of paint, making it stand out against the white siding.

The porch swing is still here, swaying slightly in the early morning breeze.

The blend of purple and pink hydrangeas are beautiful, undoubtedly Mrs. Sanders’ handiwork.

The porchlight blinks off, and my gaze drifts upward to the second-floor window.

Her window. It’s cracked open, telling me that she still loves the fresh summer breeze early in the morning.

Sitting here brings up countless memories of sitting on that porch swing, of tossing rocks up to her window…

of stealing quick kisses when dropping her off.

Now, I’m here with a knot in my stomach, one that threatens to swallow me whole. The whole neighborhood is still quiet, except for the occasional bark of a dog waking up. I’m sure old man Deacon will be out to fetch his paper in no time, along with Mrs Talmund.

Leaning back against the headrest, I close my eyes for a second, needing strength and courage.

‘God, I know I should’ve come to You sooner with this,’ I pray silently, gripping the steering wheel like it’s a lifeline. ‘ I’ve made a mess of things, and I don’t even know how to fix it. I just know I need her, I need Hannah. Please help me through this, I can’t lose her again.’

Sighing, I open my eyes, catching a glimpse of the front curtain shifting. There’s no hiding the fact that I’m here anymore, since I’m pretty sure I’m already spotted.

Here goes nothing.

Pushing open the truck door, I step onto the gravel driveway, the crunch underfoot louder than it should’ve been in the stillness. My legs feel heavy the closer I get to the porch, each step bringing me closer to the inevitable.

What if she doesn’t want to see me ?

What if she ran away because she really doesn’t want me?

I hesitate for a second, my hand hovering over the knocker.

It doesn’t matter—either way I have to know.

Knocking on the door, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to encounter. Footsteps thud on the other side of the door and my heart is pounding in my ears as I wait.

The door swings open, revealing Hannah’s younger sister.

Her dark hair is tied back in a messy ponytail, and the freckles I remember from childhood have only deepened.

The last time I saw her, she was a scrawny ten-year-old, always trailing behind Hannah and me…

sharp-eyed, confident, and constantly suspicious of my intentions.

“Lucas Walker,” she says, her voice tinged with equal parts curiosity and accusation. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello Esther,” I greet her with the formality I know will trigger the little frown between her eyebrows—the one she gets whenever someone calls her by her full name. “It’s been a while.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, scanning the porch as if confirming there’s no one else here but me.

“So you’re the reason she’s back home?” she mutters, looking over her shoulder toward the stairs before pinning me with her gaze. “Should’ve known.”

Before I can reply, another voice interrupts.

“Who’s there, Es?” Pastor Mark’s deep voice resonates from inside the house. She hesitates, just long enough for guilt to settle heavy in my chest. Then she steps aside, pulling the door open wider.

And there he is.

Standing in the doorway, Pastor Mark’s sharp gaze lands on me.

For a moment, all the air leaves my lungs.

This is the man whose sermons shaped so much of my faith, the man who invited me into his home and his family when my own was falling apart.

He is also the man I once hoped would give me his blessing to marry his daughter.

And now I’m standing here, already married to her without his knowledge, or permission.

Not good, Lucas. Not good at all.

“Lucas.” His tone is warm, but there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

He steps closer, setting the dish towel over his shoulder, his expression shifting to one of concern.

“It’s good to see you, son, but I wasn’t expecting you here.

Especially this early.” He glances at Essie, who’s now lingering near the stairs, and then back at me.

He folds his arms casually, his voice remaining steady but carrying a weight that makes my stomach tighten. “Is everything alright?”

I quickly take my cap off, brushing my free hand through my hair. My words get caught in my throat, and I attempt to swallow. I have no idea how to explain what I’m doing here without saying something about what’s going on.

Or do they know we got married?

Of course not. Otherwise he would know why I’m here.

“I need to talk to Hannah,” I manage, my voice low.

His voice is measured as he studies me for a moment. His eyes are not unkind, but a bit cautious. “She’s had a hard week, Lucas. I’m not sure if she’s in the right place for surprises—“

“I know, sir,” I reply, clutching my cap in both hands. I can’t bear to think about being sent away without seeing her. “But it’s important. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Before Pastor Mark can press me further, Mrs. Sanders appears from the hallway, holding a mug of coffee. Seeing her makes me think of Hannah, and what she might look like one day. They have the same blonde hair and the same smiling green eyes, and both of them radiate kindness in a way.

“Mark, who’s at the door—“ She stops short, her gaze landing on me. Her brows lift, but her smile is welcoming. “Well, this is a surprise.”

“Lucas says he needs to talk to Hannah,” Pastor Mark explains, stepping closer to his wife and taking the mug of coffee from her. His voice is still calm, but laced with unspoken questions.

Hannah’s mother looks between us, her motherly instincts kicking in. “Why don’t you come in, Lucas? You look like you’ve been driving all night.”

She’s not far off. Although I was lucky enough to get a flight, I still haven’t slept since yesterday.

Pastor Mark takes a second before giving me a smile—one that thankfully reaches his eyes too.

He gestures for me to come inside. Essie is still lingering at the bottom of the staircase, arms crossed, her stare far less welcoming than her parents’.

The smell of freshly baked bread and brownies fill the air and my stomach rumbles.

Hannah’s mom has always had the ability to make a place smell like home.

After my mom passed, she fed me like I was one of her own.

She always made sure to send food home too, for Dad and Noah.

For a moment I stand in the foyer, not sure where to go from here.

“We’re all heading out to the campsite in a few minutes,” Pastor Mark says, making his way down the hallway that leads to the large family room and kitchen. “You’re more than welcome to join us up there if you want? I’m sure the kids would love to see their local hero in the flesh.”

He looks over his shoulder, making sure I follow him.

“As fun as that sounds I don’t think I’ll be able to,” I manage. “I have to be back in New York this time tomorrow. It’s just a quick visit.”

Mrs. Sanders gives me a quick, appraising glance, her warm smile softening the tension.

“Why don’t you sit down for a minute while I grab you something to eat?

” she asks as we step into the kitchen. The familiarity of the house hits me in the chest. I half expect to find Hannah sitting at the kitchen table, a book in front of her, her golden hair falling over her shoulder .

“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, though I don’t think I’ll be able to eat a bite.

Essie retreats from the kitchen, but not before stealing a last glance in my direction. I’m sure she’s heading upstairs to tell Hannah I’m here…or to warn her.

Pastor Mark leans against the kitchen counter, folding his arms. “So, Lucas. Want to tell us what’s so important it brought you all the way back to Georgetown in the middle of the playoffs?”

“Mark…” Mrs. Sanders gently chides, placing a steaming cup of coffee down in front of me, followed by a freshly baked cinnamon roll.

I shift uncomfortably. “I’d really like to talk to Hannah first, if that’s alright.”

Pastor Mark’s eyes narrow slightly, but not in anger…rather contemplation. His protective instincts as a father are obvious. His wife places a gentle hand on his arm, giving him a small knowing smile.

“Fair enough,” he says finally. “But I hope you’re not bringing bad news, or trouble, to her. It’s been a while since you’ve been in this house, but we all remember how Hannah struggled after you left.”

His words hit me harder than they probably should, especially hearing that Hannah had a rough time after we broke up. I never spoke to her or saw her. How was I supposed to know that she took it so hard when she was the one who ended things?

I hold his gaze. “That’s not my intention, sir. I just want to make things right.”