Page 36 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

“I get that,” she says, her voice sharp despite the look in her eyes. “But you buying me a new car won’t fix this feeling that we’re navigating a minefield here, Lucas.”

I study her, trying to piece together what’s really going on.

This isn’t the calm, composed side of Hannah.

No, this is fiery Sanders—the side of her that won’t hold back when she’s faced with a problem.

And as much as I love her passion, I know there’s a reason behind it, a reason she’s in fight mode.

Which makes me want to fix it.

“Okay.” I nod, getting up and walking to the fridge to get each of us a bottle of water before sitting back down again. “Hit me with the first landmine, Sanders.”

She shakes her head, and I get the feeling she thinks I’m not taking this seriously.

“I’m serious,” I tell her. “We might as well start going through it so we can get this over with. You’re upset about something, so let’s figure it out.”

“Fine,” she says, taking a sip of her own water, her green eyes fiery as she stares at me.

If this is what being married to Hannah is like, then I’m excited for the rest of our lives. I’d rather be facing off with her fire than soothe my muscles in a tub of ice right now.

“Luke, this is your house,” she says, the frustration in her voice unmistakable now.

I frown, leaning back slightly as her words sink in. I know what she’s saying, but I don’t know why she considers it to be such a big deal. Those weren’t the words I was expecting.

“Yes,” I say, slowly, measuring my words. “And now it’s yours too. As of today, we live here together.”

She shakes her head, her fork clinking softly as she sets it down. Her eyes lift to meet mine.

“Saying that doesn’t mean anything,” she says, her words sharp, but not cruel.

“All my stuff is at my own apartment in Durham. The one I just re-signed a lease on. I left everything back there. I basically have the clothes I packed for a weekend in Vegas. And what little I did bring, I couldn’t even unpack because I didn’t know if I should move your things to make room for mine, or if I should use a different closet, in a different room…

” she stops abruptly, as if realizing she’s letting it all out at once.

She touched on so many things. Things that we won’t be able to fix right this second. But there is one thing we can figure out right now.

“In my bedroom,” I say without hesitation, the words coming out firm and final. “You’ll unpack your stuff in our bedroom. The master bedroom.”

“Lucas—” she starts, but there’s something weary in her tone now.

“Sanders, where else do you want to sleep?” I ask her, my voice dipping lower as I try to keep the frustration out of it.

I know I should probably give her the option of staying in one of the guestrooms, but the fact that this is even a conversation feels like a blow I wasn’t expecting.

Her cheeks flush and her voice softens.

“We’ve never done this before. We’ve never shared a house, a room, a bed,” she says, her vulnerability breaking through the fire. “And we didn’t prepare for any of this. I just came bursting into your life and now everything has to change, for both of us.”

This is a lot. For her and for me. I guess I had the entire day at hockey practice to keep my mind off the fact that we’d gone from zero to a hundred in two seconds. She didn’t have that luxury. She’s been here, faced with everything we still need to figure out.

“I know this isn’t exactly the most conventional way of doing things,” I say, reaching across the counter, letting my hand cover hers.

My thumb brushes her knuckles gently, trying to ground both of us.

The sight of her empty left hand is not lost on me…

she’s not wearing her wedding ring. Mine is constantly burning against my chest and I have no idea where hers is.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to sleep in the same room as me.

Does she even want this?

The thought catches me off guard, a sharp pang of doubt twisting in my chest. I’ve spent every waking moment since we said ‘I do’, convincing myself that the impulsive decision we made was the right one, that God has a plan for us.

But now, looking at her, I don’t know how I can make her see that too.

God, please help me. Guide my words and help her to understand, to really hear what I’m trying to say.

“This whole thing…it's all very new.” I take a deep breath and set down my fork. “I get that this place feels like it doesn’t belong to you, yet. But you have to remember that you’ve been here for one day.”

Pushing back my chair, I stand and walk around the kitchen island. Her green eyes track my every move, wide and searching, like she’s looking for something to hold onto. I kneel in front of her, close enough that the warmth of her presence settles over me.

“It’s going to take time for us to make this place ours,” I say, my voice steady.

“We can go to Durham and get your things, or hire movers or whatever you’re comfortable with.

Whatever you need for this to feel like it’s your home too—we can do it.

Whether that includes us painting walls or buying furniture, or planting a garden out back…

we’ll do it all if that’s what you want.

I want you to tell me about the ideas you have, how you want to change the rooms in this house. ”

I sigh and place my hands on her knees, the need to connect to her in some way burning through me .

“Sanders, you’ve already made this place come alive and all you’ve done is make spaghetti.”

She smiles faintly. The uncertainty in her eyes easing slightly as she reaches out to take my hands, threading her fingers through mine. I take another deep breath, the words weighing on my chest as I try to get them right.

“As for the sleeping arrangements…” I hesitate just long enough for her to meet my gaze.

“If you’re asking me where I want you to sleep…

my answer will always be with me,” I say softly, my voice firm and gentle.

“But in that I’m not saying we should dive into the deep end with our physical relationship, if that’s not what you want. ”

Right now, I’m trying my hardest not to dwell too much on the whole wedding ring thing, and what it might or might not mean. I just want her to want to stay.

We can figure out the rest from there.

Her lips part slightly, her expression shifting in a way that sends a flicker of hope through me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Hoping my rambling has made the situation better, that it’s making her feel better about all her concerns.

“We need to be a little patient right now. We rushed into all of this, but now we have to slow down. We’re doing this one step at a time,” I say, brushing my thumb over her fingers.

She visibly relaxes, a small smile spreading on her lips as she looks at me. “I like that. We’ll just take it slow.”

Before I can respond, she lifts my hands, guiding me to stand in front of her. Towering over her, I watch as she wraps her arms around my waist, her embrace warm as she rests her chin against my stomach, watching me intently.

“I want you to know that I’ve always felt safe with you, Lucas,” she murmurs, her gaze not leaving mine for a second. Her arms tighten around me, as if she’s anchoring herself in the moment. “And I want to sleep next to you…every single night. ”

My breath hitches, her words striking something deep in me. I rest my hands on her back, holding her close and press my lips to the top of her head. “It’ll all work out, Sanders. As long as we do this together.”

I usually sleep in shorts since I have a tendency to run hot. But tonight is the first night I’m sharing a bed with Hannah and I want her to be comfortable. So instead, I’m wearing sweats and a t-shirt.

Lying here now, my legs feel extra heavy beneath the added weight of the bedcover and it feels like I might not make it through the night. At least the bed is king size. That leaves plenty of space between us, but the idea of her lying just a few feet away makes the space feel smaller somehow.

And so much warmer.

I kick off my part of the bedcover, slight relief washing over me now that my feet aren’t covered anymore.

We came to bed almost thirty minutes ago—with minimal eye contact and even fewer words.

And the room has been quiet ever since. The kind of quiet that’s filled with shallow breathing and unspoken thoughts.

I haven’t moved an inch—haven’t even closed my eyes—and I’m now a lot more familiar with the patterns on the ceiling than I was before.

My body is hyper aware of the fact that, if I shift just slightly to the right, I’ll touch her.

The lights are off, but the moonlight filters through the curtains, faint and soft. I know I have to get some rest. Tomorrow I have an early morning skating session before my usual pre-game prep starts. It’s Game 5 against the Leafs…if we win, we’re going to the finals.

Harry has been very generous in giving me the time to sort things out with Hannah.

That’s not something anyone would do, especially this deep into the playoffs.

The least I can do is give it my all. Every rep, every hour, every mental check-in counts.

My team deserves this win, our coach and staff deserve it. I can’t afford to lose focus right now.

But as much as I try to clear my mind, I’m hyper aware of her.

Hannah shifts uncomfortably next to me, her foot brushing against mine before she quickly pulls it back. I’m pretty certain neither of us is asleep and if we don’t do something about it, the night is going to get too long.

“Are you alright?” I ask, my voice low, almost hesitant, not daring to look at her. I’m not sure which Hannah I’ll find next to me if I turn towards her. The shy and demure girl I got to know in high school, or the fiery, independent woman from Vegas.

Honestly, I’m more scared I’ll find the version of Hannah who is riddled with uncertainty, wanting to leave again.