Page 18 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

“You didn’t just walk away from us, Lucas. You walked away from responsibilities. This family and the business we’ve built over generations. Noah had to step up because you weren’t here. And now you’re once again dragging the girl into whatever this is—“

“I didn’t drag her into anything!” I snap, louder this time. “Hannah made her choices just like I made mine. I did what was right for me.”

For a moment, silence hangs between us. The weight of his words, and mine, settle like a storm brewing just out of reach.

I made a decision five years ago, the NHL and the life that comes with being a New York Ranger.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this life too.

I love this farm and the business, I love Georgetown and my family.

Why does it have to be a choice? Why does it have to be one or the other?

Dad shakes his head, his voice lowering but not softening in the least.

“Whatever happened between you two…you’re not in high school anymore, Lucas.

You have to decide what kind of man you want to be.

You can’t just run from the choices you made.

You have a team who’s depending on you to be there.

And now you’re here.” He lifts his gaze to me, his eyes hard.

“It looks like you’re running in circles. ”

I swallow hard, unable to argue. He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t make any of this easier. Now, with my marriage to Hannah, I’m not only faced with two different lives to choose from…but three.

“I get it,” I reply, my voice tight and tired as I turn away from him. “I’ll sort it out.”

My boots creak against the floorboards as I force myself to keep moving. I can feel my dad’s eyes on me as I climb, but I don’t look back.

I can’t.

After taking a shower, I grab my old jeans and a fresh shirt from the closet before stepping out into the already warm morning.

Noah’s dog, Hazel, greets me with a wagging tail, nudging my hand with her wet snout.

Rubbing her behind her ears, she almost smiles at me.

I got the Saint Bernard for Noah three years ago, and she’s been his constant friend while I’m away.

“Let’s go find Noah, girl.”

Straightening, I step off the porch, keeping an eye out for my dad.

But he’s nowhere in sight, although his words seem to hang in the very air I’m breathing.

His accusations about my disappointing life choices weigh heavily on my chest. I have no idea how to fix things between us, just like I can’t seem to fix this marriage I’d gotten myself into.

Walking past the worn garden bench, my heart aches thinking about how my mother used to sit there with her books and sometimes even her Bible. She loved being outside, keeping a watchful eye over my dad and her boys…just in case we might need something, she would be ready for us.

I wonder what she would say about all of this…?

My mom always did everything in her power to support me and Noah.

She took me to practice, watched my games and made sure I got everything I needed.

I never wanted for gear or lessons or trainers.

She also supported me in my love for this farm.

She would soothe over arguments between me and my dad, whenever we clashed about the decisions I made or the methods I used to fix things.

Mom wanted me to take over from my dad one day, but not at the expense of my hockey. She wanted me to have everything.

Making my way to the east cornfield with Hazel trotting excitedly a few steps out in front of me, I look out for Noah and the John Deer.

The sound of the tractor engine sputtering to life and then dying again signals Noah’s presence.

His familiar frame, now even more solid than I remember, is bent over the engine.

He’s elbow deep into the machine, the rachet in his grip clicks rhythmically, its familiar sounds echoing across the field.

“Need a hand?” I call out as I approach him.

Hazel runs toward Noah, nudging his knee with her snout to let him know she’s arrived before lying down next to the tractor, an almost content look on her face.

He lifts his gaze, the frown of concentration melting into a giant smile as he spots me. The grease and sweat streaking his face doesn’t hide the familiar warmth of his smile.

“This old thing is being very stubborn this morning.” Even his voice seems to sound a little deeper every time I come home.

“Then I’m your man,” I say, stepping closer and pulling my little brother into a hug, slapping him on the back. “It wouldn’t be the first stubborn old thing I deal with today.”

Noah laughs, handing me the ratchet before grabbing another tool from the box at his feet.

“So, dad’s not keen on an impromptu visit then,” he grunts, struggling with the fuel line.

“You could say that,” I say, leaning down into the engine to help him.

From this angle it’s a bit easier to twist the fuel line back into place.

I take the time to tighten it with a firm grip, careful not to overdo it.

I might not be able to fix my relationship with my dad, or apparently with Hannah, but I can fix an engine easily.

That’s something we learned very early on working on the farm with Dad.

If something breaks—you fix it.

“Did they kick you off the team?” he asks, straightening and wiping his hands on a rag, gesturing for me to check the new fuel filter.

“Because you had a great game last night. You’ll take the Cup, I’m sure.

” He gives me a sarcastic smile, his blue eyes sparking with humor. “But you can’t do it from here.”

“Nobody kicked me off the team, Noh.” With a quick turn of the wrench, I attach the last clamp to the fuel line, locking it into position. I stay here, tweaking the fuel line and hiding my face from him in the process. “I just… have a few things I need to sort out and then I’ll head back.”

Noah reaches into the engine next to me, inspecting my handiwork for himself.

“What?” I ask him, grabbing the rag from his back pocket and wiping my hands. “You think I forgot how to do this?”

“Never,” he says with amusement. “But you can’t deny it, brother, your hands tend to get a little soft while you’re upstate.” He laughs and dodges as I swipe at his head with the rag.

“Careful,” he teases. “I’m just saying.”

I roll my eyes and gesture for him to step back as I slide into the tractor seat.

“So,” he starts, casually leaning against the frame. “Tell me…what kind of things do you need to sort out? Is this about Hannah?”

Getting settled in the seat, I freeze with my hand on the ignition. Carefully studying my little brother over the giant steering wheel, I wonder how on earth he could possibly know I’m here because of Hannah.

“Why would you say that?” I ask, unable to hide the edge from my voice.

Noah doesn’t flinch. He’s too used to me by now.

“I saw her at camp this week.” He shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. He’s avoiding my gaze, instead focusing on wiping his hands with the rag. “She’s never home, you know? First time I’ve seen her since you two called it quits.”

My chest tightens at his words, and before I can formulate a response, he finally looks up, a knowing look settling on his face. “Not that hard to put two and two together.”

His words linger in the air between us, heavy with unspoken truths. Noah had a front row seat to my relationship with Hannah back then. He adored her. They got along like siblings, teasing and laughing like they’d known each other forever. He used to joke that if I didn’t marry her, he would.

I turn the ignition and the engine roars to life with a steady hum. My hands rest on the wheel and for a second, I almost feel like I’ve fixed something. A rare moment of satisfaction.

“So?” Noah presses. “Did I get it right?”

“You always were too smart for your own good,” I grunt, trying to brush him off.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” he replies, his grin a mix of teasing and genuine concern. He leans against the tractor, arms crossed, studying me in that way only a younger brother can. “You know I don’t think I’ve seen you happier than when you were with her.”

The chain around my neck suddenly feels heavier, the ring hanging from it hot against my skin. It’s like he can see right through me, through the things I’ve been trying to hide and ignore.

“So what’s the deal, bro? Are there no women in New York? Because I mean, you’re Lucas freaking Walker .” A teasing grin spreads on his face. “I bet you have at least a few to pick from.”

“Oh come on—“ I snap, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Don’t act like it’s not true,” Noah says with a laugh, whipping me with the rag.

“I mean you’re an NHL superstar. There are definitely a few women sliding into your dm’s.

Just last night there was a sign in the crowd where someone asked you to marry her.

And I won’t even mention the ones that were…

less subtle. You could get a wife in no time at all, big brother. ”

The irony isn’t lost on me.

Somehow I got a wife within the span of seven hours.

And now she doesn’t want anything to do with me.

“That’s not how I operate, Noh,” I say, sliding out of the seat and killing the engine. My boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, dust swirling up around me.

He grins, clearly enjoying himself.

“Seriously though, you could have anyone you want, Lucas. So tell me what is it about her that has you bailing on the team in the third round of the playoffs? ”

Dusting off my hands, I avoid his gaze. “She’s not just anyone to me. She’s… Hannah .”

“I figured as much,” he says, leaning down to rub Hazel behind the ears. “Anybody with a working pair of eyes could see you two belong together.”

Then how come Hannah can’t see it? I don’t want to convince her to be with me. I want her to see who we are when we’re together, who we can be if we actually gave this relationship, this marriage, a chance.