Page 27 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)
“So you heard the good news then,” he says to my mom before walking toward me with a small smile on his face. “Our little girl is married. Congratulations, honey.”
He pulls me in for a tight hug, his big arms enveloping me, the smell of camp and home wrapping around me. The gesture speaks of love and support causing most of the anxiety to melt away instantly.
“Things went okay with Lucas then?” I ask, pulling away to see humor in my dad’s eyes.
He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “He had a bit of a tough time, but who wouldn’t? He married my daughter in Vegas and then hid it from us for a week. But he’s a good man, Hannah. I can see that.” He looks over to where mom is smiling at us. “We’ve always seen that.”
Before I can say anything, a sharp voice cuts through the room. “You got married? In Vegas?”
I whirl toward the kitchen door to see Essie standing there, her face is pale and her eyes wide with disbelief. Behind her, my two younger brothers, Micah and Zach exchange uncertain glances, clearly caught off guard.
“Essie,” I begin, taking a step toward her.
But she shakes her head, her expression hardening as anger replaces shock. “You’re married,” she repeats, her voice rising as she realizes the truth I’ve been hiding.
The words hang in the air like a challenge, and before I can explain, she shoves past Micah and Zach. Her footsteps echo down the hall and up the stairs before we all hear her bedroom door slam shut.
“Should I…” Zach starts, jerking a thumb toward the direction Essie ran, his concern clearly written on his face. He’s always been close to her, the two of them practically inseparable.
“No,” I say quickly, holding up a hand. “I’ll go.”
“Maybe just give her a few minutes,” my mom advises gently from where she’s standing at the counter. “Let her cool off first. Here,” she says, handing me a knife and pointing to the cutting board. “Grab some vegetables and start chopping. Zach and Micah, you too.”
Micah smirks faintly, glancing sideways at our little brother. “Since when do we get to help?”
“Since now,” Mom says without missing a beat, her tone not leaving any room for argument.
Zach mutters something under his breath about unfair labor, but he washes his hands anyway before grabbing an onion and starting to chop.
Micah lingers by the counter, his dark brown eyes thoughtful as he watches me, but he doesn’t say anything.
I didn’t expect him to be at home, but I’m sure Dad made him come back knowing I’d have to share my news.
“Are you going to help or just supervise?” Zach says, glancing sideways toward Micah.
He chuckles, grabbing a single mushroom and heading to sink to wash it. “I’m helping, aren’t I?”
Zach huffs in response. I glance at the door Essie disappeared through, my heart heavy.
She’s only fourteen, but I should’ve known this would be hard for her.
She’s always worn her feelings on her sleeve.
Like Zach, the two of them don’t know how to leave their thoughts unspoken.
Unlike me and Micah, who sometimes guard our secrets too well.
“So is this what you meant when you said you guys were figuring a few things out?” Micah asks, a teasing tone in his voice as he grabs another mushroom to rinse. “China patterns and zip codes?”
“Careful,” Zach says from behind him, sniffing back tears brought on by the chopped onions. “She’s holding a knife.”
Eying my brother, I playfully point the knife in his direction. “Yes, that’s what I meant. I have no idea why you didn’t pick up what I was putting down.”
He barks a laugh. “Sure thing, Han.”
“So where’s your husband?” Zach asks, his voice catching slightly on the last word. “You do know that this is weird, right?” he asks, glancing at everyone in the kitchen for confirmation. “Am I the only one, or are we allowed to say that this is weird?”
“You can say whatever you want, Zach,” I say with a sigh, setting down the knife on the counter. I’m sure mom doesn’t really need our help, she’s more focused on keeping us here a little while longer. “You’ve always been very open about your opinions, so don’t let us stop you now. ”
“Good,” Zach says, getting back to chopping the mushrooms Micah is now setting before him. “This is weird. You marrying someone we all saw on television last night isn’t normal.”
“This is why you wanted me to come home for dinner tonight?” Micah asks my dad, ignoring my little brother. “To fully appreciate the awkward family announcement?”
Dad smiles at Micah. “Absolutely, yes.”
I fold my arms, giving Micah a pointed look. “Would you rather be back at Camp? Roasting marshmallows with S—” His gaze sharpens, cutting me off with a silent warning not to go there. “I didn’t think so,” I mutter, dropping the subject.
Micah doesn’t respond, but the tension in his posture says it all. It’s not like him to be this quick to react, but Sarah’s name hangs unspoken between us, a secret he’s not ready to share.
“Back to who?” Zach asks, not missing anything. “Are you hiding something too?” His green eyes spark with curiosity, and I know he’s going to be like a dog with a bone now.
“Less talking and more chopping,” my mom says, grabbing the cutting board that is now home to a mountain of chopped onions and mushrooms. I’m half convinced Zach chopped every onion in the vegetable drawer.
“I need to go talk to Essie,” I tell them, wiping my hands on the dishtowel.
My dad nods. His eyes meet mine. “Give her time,” he says softly. “She’s feeling more than she knows how to say.”
Stepping toward the door, I feel Micah’s gaze following me. “Good luck,” he says under his breath.
I glance back at him. “You could talk to her too, you know.”
“Why?” Micah asks, tilting his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “She’s not mad at me.”
“Not yet,” I say with a sing-song voice before heading out the kitchen. Micah’s low chuckle follows me out the door. We don’t share much with our family, and they’re always mad at us because of it.
But right now, I know that I have to fix things with my little sister—even if it means sharing more than I’m comfortable with.
Reaching my sister’s room, I hesitate. The door is shut and I debate whether I should knock or just go in. Remembering the look on her face downstairs, I gently knock.
“Es?” I call softly, listening carefully for any sign of life on the other side of the door. “Can I come in for a minute?”
I’m met with nothing but silence. I didn’t expect her to open straight away, but a part of me hoped she would be curious enough about everything that she might allow me to explain what happened.
“Essie, please talk to me.”
There’s still no answer. Standing this close to her bedroom door, I notice the familiar scratches and dents from when we were little.
She’s almost ten years younger than I am, but I indulged her wild imagination, pretending pirates lurked behind this door.
Mom’s kitchen utensils became our swords and together we defended her room to the death.
“Come on, little one,” I say gently. “Open up so we can talk about this.”
The door jerks open. Essie stands there, her favorite light-pink tights hugging her small frame, her dark hair tied in a messy bun. Her red, tear-streaked eyes flash with anger, blazing with betrayal and hurt. The look pierces my soul.
“What do you want?” she snaps, her voice sharp enough to cut. She doesn’t move aside to let me in.
“Just let me explain—“
“Don’t pretend like you care about me or my feelings now, Hannah. Go! Get in your car and leave! You want to live a life away from us? A life that doesn’t include us? Then go! Don’t let me stop you.”
She slams the door in my face, and I’m forced to take a step back. Fresh tears sting my eyes as I inhale deeply.
Father, help me through this…help her through this.
Behind me, soft footsteps creak on the stairs. I turn to see my mom drying her hands on a dishtowel. Her expression is calm but knowing.
“Not ready to talk yet?” she asks gently.
I shake my head, unable to find the right words. Essie’s reaction caught me off guard. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this upset about anything before. The intense anger…it shocks me.
“I knew she wouldn’t take it so well,” I murmur, glancing back at her door. “But this…” My voice trails off as I silently pray. Father, please be with her. Let your calm wash over her.
“Just give her some time,” my mom says, placing a hand on my arm. “Besides, Lucas is here to see you.”
The mention of his name sends a wave of emotions through me—relief, excitement, and something grounding. I saw him just a few hours ago, and somehow it feels like a lifetime.
I nod, looking at Essie’s door one last time before following my mom downstairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, my eyes find Lucas standing in the doorway.
He looks as tired as I feel, his shoulders slightly slumped, but when he sees me, his eyes light up.
For a moment, I pause, overwhelmed by the fact that we are together again.
I want nothing more than to walk into his arms and let him hold me.
“Hey Sanders,” he says with a relieved sigh as he takes me in. His dark eyes narrow as he takes in the worry on my face. “Everything alright?”
“Essie,” I say, pointing over my shoulder. “She’s not taking it so well. Well, no, that’s an understatement. I’ve never seen her this angry.”
“I’m going to finish dinner,” my mom interjects on her way back to the kitchen. “Lucas, you’re more than welcome to stay and eat with us.”
“Thanks Mrs. Sanders,” he calls after her with a genuine smile on his face, before looking back at me. “I’m seriously tempted, your mom’s cooking is delicious and I can’t remember when last I had a home-cooked meal.”
I reach for his hand and tug him further into the house, the warmth of his presence grounding me.