Page 20 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

HANNAH

T he roar of Lucas’s truck fades into the distance, leaving nothing but the soft rustle of trees in its wake.

Staring at the empty stretch of road where his taillights disappeared, the sinking weight in my chest threatens to pull me under.

My stomach churns, replaying the look on his face as he climbed into his truck.

Hurt, confusion, and a resignation I never thought I’d see.

The conversation had spiraled so far out of control, I couldn’t even grasp what I’d hoped to say. I didn’t want to hurt him, yet that’s exactly what I did. The truth is, Lucas doesn’t deserve this. He deserves to be treated better.

I wipe a tear from my cheek and glance back toward the house, where Essie’s face had been in the window only minutes ago.

Throughout our entire conversation I was hyper aware of the fact that my parents were close and that Essie might overhear something.

Growing up she’s always had a superpower when it comes to eavesdropping.

I wanted to get this over with and get Lucas out of here as fast as possible.

Well, you did that, Hannah. Bravo.

I didn’t expect to see him. Thinking about it now, I should’ve known he’d find me. But I’ve been in avoidance mode this entire week. I’ve been hiding away…from Lucas, from God, from myself too.

He came all the way to Georgetown to talk to me, straight after his game. He didn’t care about the distance, about the uncertainty. He came because he believed in us. Even after all these years, even after the impulsive mistake we made in Vegas he feels like there’s something here.

You feel the same, Hannah.

I panicked.

Seeing him here, the concern on my parents’ faces, imagining what they’d think when they learned the truth…it was all too much. And instead of leaning into Lucas, I pushed him away, just like I did five years ago. He’ll be here for a day and then he’ll go back to his life.

The life I’ve always wanted him to have. The life that doesn’t include me.

A hand rests lightly on my shoulder, startling me. I turn to find my father looking down at me, his eyes sad as he takes me in.

“Dad,” I say, my voice breaking as I quickly wipe the tears from my face. “I’m sorry about all that. I’ll go get cleaned up and then we can go.”

He studies me for a long time, his gaze soft but full of concern.

“Hannah,” he says gently, causing something to crack inside of me.

Tears and sobs suddenly spill from me, the ache in my heart that I’ve been holding back this entire week finally too much to bear. My dad pulls me into his chest, hugging me tightly as I let all of it out.

The shame, the guilt, the regret.

Father, please help me. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to fix this. Why is this all such a big mess? How could this happen?

My dad finally pulls back, his hands firmly on my shoulders. “We don’t have to figure this out now. Let’s go inside.”

As we step onto the porch, he calls out for my mom. Her footsteps echo down the hall, and the moment she sees me, she wraps me in her arms.

“Shh,” she whispers into my hair. “It’ll be okay.”

“Mark…” she starts, somehow conveying an entire conversation in just his name.

My dad hums in agreement. “I’m going to make a call and then I have to go,” my dad’s voice steady but strained. “Hannah, look at me, please?”

I turn toward him, not sure what he wants to see. Right now, I don’t care if he sees everything—every single lie and worry clearly etched onto my face. It all feels too heavy right now.

“Take the day,” he says. “Mom will stay here with you.”

I nod, sniffing. He kisses me on the head before leaving the two of us alone. My mom leads me upstairs, her arms still around my shoulders. By the time we reach my room, it’s like I’m running on empty. My body feels heavy, my limbs tired.

“Hannah-Belle?” My mom’s whisper floats through the fog that is my mind right now. “I’m going to go make us some tea. Why don’t you splash some water on your face and then we’ll talk.”

I nod, watching as my mom closes the bedroom door behind her.

I drag myself to my bathroom, startled when I’m faced by the reflection staring back at me.

My eyes are bloodshot and starting to swell, the light mascara and eye-liner now in streaks down my face.

My hair is matted where my parents hugged me.

But it’s the look in my eyes that catches me off guard, the look that mirrors the hollow feeling in my heart.

What have I done?

Another sob escapes me and I clutch the edge of the sink.

I wanted Lucas.

I wanted him then, and I want him now.

But not like this. Not with all the chaos, the judgment, the shame.

I’ve spent years building a life for myself, believing I needed to leave Georgetown to be happy. I wanted Lucas to have the life he dreamed of too—the life I thought God wanted for him. That’s why I broke things off in the first place, right?

But if it was the right thing, why does it feel so wrong now?

God, I don’t know which way is up. I’ve drifted so far away from the woman I believed you wanted me to be. I acted impulsively, selfishly. I don’t even know where to begin to fix the mess I’ve made.

Making my way back to my room, my gaze falls on my Bible on my bedside table. I haven’t opened it since Vegas. Not once.

Knowing that God isn’t a Father who walks away from His children is one thing. Believing it in the middle of an impossible situation? That’s something else entirely.

My mom pushes the door open gingerly, two cups of steaming hot tea in her hands. She gently nudges the door behind her before stopping.

“Guess I don’t need to close the door,” she smiles, the humor reaching her green gaze. “Essie just left with your dad, so we have all the privacy in the world.”

I attempt to smile, taking the cup of tea from her. “We used to do this a lot,” I remind her. “Although not having Essie eavesdropping is a first.”

My mom chuckles lightly. “You know it’s just because she loves you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Wrapping my fingers around the cup, I let the warmth seep into my fingers as I settle on my bed. I truly have the best mom in the whole world. She knows me so well. I move to make room so she can take her usual spot at the foot of my bed.

“You must be wondering what that was all about,” I say, my voice soft and careful.

My fingers work at an imaginary thread on my duvet cover, avoiding eye contact with her.

I’ve never lied to my mom before…well never before this week.

It’s been horrible not being able to tell her, and on the other hand, I know it will be horrible to tell her the truth.

“Any mom would be concerned seeing her daughter break down in tears.” She sighs softly, watching me with her gaze filled with understanding. “I never want you to be this unhappy and hurt, Hannah.”

“I know,” I mutter, running through the emotions wreaking havoc inside of me. “I’m not unhappy…just scared and unsure about a lot of things.”

I take a shaky sip of my tea, breathing in the cinnamon and honey scent, letting it wash over me.

The silence stretches between us, and I can feel my mother’s eyes on me.

Yet she’s not pushing. She never pushes.

No, the weight I’m feeling is entirely because of my own guilt.

Guilt that has been building every single day I’ve been home.

If I could just figure out how I feel about everything before I drag my family into it, then I’d feel more comfortable to share. I’m sure of it.

Taking another sip of warm tea, I swallow down the lump that is in my throat. There’s nothing but grace etched into my mom’s features and I wonder if she can see straight through me, right into the mess of emotions that’s whirling around inside of me.

“Mom, I need you to say something, please,” I finally tell her.

She smiles at me. “Hannah, I’m not here to tell you what to do. I just want you to know you have a place to go to when you’re feeling lost. If you don’t confide in me, then confide in God, but know that you’re never alone, no matter how difficult things may seem.”

The words settle around me, heavy and comforting all at once.

I look down, blinking hard, trying to keep my emotions in check.

I want to tell her everything—about Vegas, about my marriage, about all the confusion and fear that’s taken hold of my heart since.

I want to feel the freedom of having someone else share this burden with me, someone who knows me almost as well as I know myself.

But the words remain lodged in my throat, tangled with all my doubts and fears. She rests her hand on my arm, squeezing gently with encouragement.

“Did you think you’d see Lucas here again?” I ask, my voice sounding small. “You know, since we broke up?”

My mom looks into her tea, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Hannah, you know how much we liked Lucas when the two of you were together. We loved having him in our home. And after you were together for almost two years, it was like he was a part of the family…” she trails off, a small frown playing between her eyes as she weighs her next words carefully.

“Your father and I had a few worries, any parent would given the seriousness of your relationship. We didn’t want the two of you to get hurt—“

“And then that’s exactly what happened,” I finish for her, a sharp edge to my voice that I don’t mean to let out.

She doesn’t correct me, doesn’t rush to smooth things over, which makes her silence feel heavier. I know I was the one who ended the relationship, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t spend months in tears afterward. My parents struggled, unsure of how to help me navigate the mess I’d created.

“But Hannah,” my mom continues softly, “we could see how much the two of you meant to each other. Your father and I prayed for both of you to find healing, and if it was His will, that you two would find your way back to each other.”

Her words hit me and my gaze snaps up to meet hers.