Page 33 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

“Tell me about it,” I mutter, the words feeling hollow. My fingers dig into the soft carpet as I try to suppress the nagging urge to organize, to outline, to control every single step of what comes next. But for the first time, I don’t know how to start.

“Just tell us if you need company,” Liz offers.

“Or back-up!” Mona yells. “We’ll be back in Manhattan soon. You might not live around the corner when we’re back in Durham, but Westchester is around the corner from Manhattan. We’ll have to take what we can get.”

“What are you going to do with your apartment?” Liz asks, the question feeling too heavy. “You love your place.”

“I know,” I say, looking out the window again, the thought of letting that place go more difficult than I thought.

Moving to Durham was one of the best decisions I ever made.

It was the first time it felt like I stood on my own two feet.

I stayed there the entire time I was in school, building a life that felt like mine.

“I guess I’ll have to talk to Lucas about what we should do. Maybe my brother can stay there when he starts at Duke in a few months. I already signed the lease, so if I don’t have to back out of it, that would be great.”

If Micah stays there, I wouldn’t have to back out of the lease. Plus, it saves my parents from having to go down there and search for a place for him.

“It’s an option,” Liz says. “Until you figure out how you feel about everything. Just know that you don’t have to rush into anything you don’t feel ready for, Hannah.”

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers toying with the edge of my sweater. I appreciate her words, but it doesn’t feel like they fit. Not anymore.

“I kind of already did, didn’t I?” I say softly.

“Well, yeah,” Mona pipes up without hesitation, her tone as blunt as ever.

“Okay, from here on out then,” Liz counters, her voice firm but kind. “You’ve got time and you’ve got options. Focus on what’s in front of you right now. Like getting that man to buy you a proper ring. And remember to phone us for the big things. We want to be a part of it.”

I appreciate her words, but they don’t bring me any comfort. Because even though I have a million questions about family, leases, school…one thing I’m sure about is Lucas. I’m married to him, I want to be married to him, and that makes things both simpler and more complicated at the same time.

“Of course, I will,” I say softly, a smile tugging at my lips.

“And tickets!” Mona shouts in the background. “And locker room passes! We want to see the NHL up close!”

I can help but laugh. “I can’t promise anything but I’ll keep you updated.”

“Stay strong, Han,” Liz says, her voice warm and reassuring before ending the call.

Even though one thing is dealt with, telling my best friends the news, it feels like somehow seventeen more things were added to the ‘worry about’ list. But I know I can do this. I just need to focus.

I need to talk to Lucas.

I need to pray about it.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. The weight of it all feels impossible, but I’m holding on to my belief that God wouldn’t bring me to this, just to leave me stranded.

After taking my bath, I slip into the pair of soft black tights I found at the top of my bag, my favorite thing to wear for comfort.

The bathroom is warm and humid, the faint scent of my lavender soap lingering in the air as I open the door and step into Lucas’s bedroom.

His room is spacious but simple, the dark hardwood floors contrasting with the light gray walls.

A large bed sits in the center, its navy-blue comforter neatly smoothed out, with two fluffy pillows stacked at the head.

I pad across the room, my bare feet brushing against the plush area rug near the bed. It feels strange being here—like I’m stepping into someone else’s world. This room is different from the rest of the house. It’s lived in, and it’s clear who it belongs to.

Unable to help myself, I make my way to the closet.

The doors slide open easily, revealing a neatly arranged row of shirts, jackets, and of course, his hockey jerseys.

I reach out, running my fingers across the fabric.

I pull out the blue, white, and red jersey—the unmistakable colors of the Rangers.

The number 7 and ‘WALKER’ is stitched across the back.

I slip it off the hanger and pull it over my head, the oversized jersey falling past my hips. I lift it to my nose, the scent so distinctly Lucas—clean, woodsy, and a little like fresh ice. The scent burrows deep into my chest, calming and unsettling me at the same time.

My husband.

The word feels foreign and yet entirely real.

I turn back to the closet, chewing on my lip. My half-open bag near the end of the bed is mocking me.

Should I unpack? And if I do, where?

I don’t want to move any of his things without asking him first. Everything in this room adds to the feeling that this is his personal space.

From the framed photo of him, Noah and his mother on the bedside table to the hockey stick leaning in the corner by the window.

His ‘Walker Family Farms’ cap is hanging on the doorknob of his closet door and his Bible is next to his bed—a reminder of who he is and where he comes from.

I hesitate, glancing toward the bed. Should I sleep here?

Or would he expect me to take one of the guest rooms?

We’re married now, and I know that means sharing a life—and a bed—but it all feels so rushed.

The memory of our wedding night flashes in my mind, and my cheeks heat at the thought.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be with him that way again, but there’s so much more to it than that.

We haven’t even talked about it. We haven’t spoken about how it was our first time, or what it meant for either of us.

I don’t want to jump ahead again, especially since everything has already happened so fast. Maybe now is the time to slow down, to think, and to let our hearts catch up with our decisions.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath my weight.

The sheets smell like him too, and I lean back, staring up at the ceiling.

I don’t even have my favorite pillow here, or the soft blanket I always use when I read late at night.

Most of my belongings are still in Durham.

Everything in this house is his.

Where am I supposed to fit in? Not just in this room, but in his life?

The thought gnaws at me as I sit up, looking down at the jersey I’m wearing.

I don’t know anything about his world. I’ve only met two of his teammates…

briefly back in Vegas. I mostly spent time with Lucas and he had all of my attention.

Do any of them even have wives or girlfriends?

Or am I going to be the only one sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of professional athletes?

“Ugh,” I groan, dragging my hands over my face. My thoughts are spiraling, dragging me down into an endless loop of questions I can’t answer.

I lower my hands and press them into my lap, closing my eyes.

“Father,” I whisper, my voice trembling slightly, “please help me to quiet my mind. Help me focus on the things that are important. Help me find Your peace and joy in this.”

The bible verses I always keep close to my heart flash in my mind, like little words of comfort that are now a part of me for whenever I need them.

‘For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, of love and of self-control.’

‘You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in You. ’

I’m not going to let my own mind get to me. Nothing happens without God knowing about it—He’s in control—now and for every day moving forward.

“I’ll be his wife. I have to trust that it’ll come just like everything else,” I declare out loud.

I’ve seen my mom be a wife and a mother, so perhaps it’s not a bad place to start.

I slide off the bed, leaving my bag still packed and heading to the kitchen instead.

The hem of Lucas’s jersey brushes my thighs, my chest filling with warmth having his scent with me.

The house is quiet, except for the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

It feels strange to be in a house this quiet, especially given the size.

My home used to be filled with a family of seven, it was hard to get a moment alone while growing up.

Now the quiet feels almost overwhelming.

Taking stock of the kitchen, it’s obvious that Lucas doesn’t use this place very often. The fridge is stocked with a few eggs, some milk and an assortment of protein shakes and pre-cooked meals. The pantry isn’t much better—cereal, protein bars and a few bags of chips.

Just as I’m about to pull out my phone and google the nearest grocery store, it buzzes in my hand.

“Hey honey,” my mom’s voice greets me, soft and warm. It’s like she has the ability to give a giant hug in one simple sentence. “I just wanted to check in and see if you arrived alright?”

“Hi mom. The flight was fine,” I try for a smile in my voice. “We didn’t really have time to properly get settled before Lucas had to leave for practice. But I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

There’s a brief pause before she says, “That’s good to hear. I’m sure it’ll be an adjustment, getting used to his schedule and where you fit into all of it.”

“Yes,” I admit, sinking into one of the barstools at the kitchen island, staring at the empty pantry. “It’ll take some time, I know. For now I thought I could at least make dinner, but the kitchen is basically empty,” I say, trying and failing to mask my frustration.

My mom lets out a laugh. “That’s single living for you, Hannah. I remember when your dad was living on his own—his cupboards were stocked with nothing but ramen, peanut butter, and a ridiculous amount of Doritos.”

I can’t help but crack a smile. “How did he survive?”