Page 39 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

“It’s because I don’t toe-pick every time I take a turn, rookie,” EJ says, taking another slow and deliberate bite of his brownie. “You’re still out there looking like a baby deer on skates.”

The young guy looks at the brownies as he leans slightly forward to relish in the smell of them. “They sure look good.”

“And they taste good too,” Lucas says, grabbing one too. “It’s her mom’s recipe.”

“I’ll take one,” a gruff voice with a russian accent hits me from behind. A large hand moves past me, taking two brownies instead of the one he asked for. Looking at Nikolai, I watch as he shoves both brownies in his mouth, chewing with fervor.

“Good,” he murmurs with a thumbs up.

“Sorry, she doesn’t speak bear,” Murphy says. “Doll, we can’t eat those and still look good enough for you to enjoy. At least some of us have enough self-discipline to stick to our routines.”

“Dec,” Lucas warns again, his eyes narrowing. “What’s up with you?”

He turns away, muttering beneath his breath as he heads off toward the ice.

I look up to Lucas, wondering if it’s something I said…or done. He catches my gaze easily and says, “It’s not you, Sanders. I’m sorry about him.”

EJ looks over his shoulder to where Murphy is skating full out, pushing himself to go as fast as he possibly can before making a sudden stop and going the other way.

“Yeah, he’s usually a bit more respectful when it comes to the women related to his teammates.”

I get that it might be strange to meet me. Not to mention it’s game day. Some players can be very strict when it comes to their routines on game days, their superstition getting the best of them. I just hope we can have some sort of friendship moving forward.

“It’s fine,” I say with a smile.

“I want another one,” EJ says, stepping closer but he doesn’t reach out to take one. “But after the game. Then I’ll take two.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “I’ll remember that next time. Post-game brownies.”

The young guy beams with excitement before he pumps his fist in the air. “Yes!”

“Lindgren! Johannson!” The coach yells from the other side of the rink. “Get on the ice.” He looks toward us, squinting before turning slightly red in the face as he shouts again, “Honeymoon is after the playoffs, Walker! Get in your gear!”

The coach isn’t done as his attention swings to Nikolai. “Petrov, is that chocolate on your face? It’s the playoffs!”

Nikolai wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before dropping his visor and getting back on the ice.

“Stay and watch, Sanders.” Lucas turns to me, his voice is low, his words and his smile just for me. “I’ll see you in a few.”

Seeing Lucas on the ice just cements the fact that we made the right choice all those years ago.

He belongs here. The way he moves, his confident stance, his raw skill—it’s undeniable.

He needed to be on this team and God knew that before we did, before we could fully comprehend the path God had set out for him.

It was hard to come to terms with God’s plan back then, but when I prayed about it— really prayed —I knew we needed to go our separate ways.

It was the hardest thing to do back then, especially facing Lucas and telling him that we can’t be together anymore.

I didn’t have the answers, my words definitely fell short when I had to explain it to him because I didn’t know that God would bring us back together again.

I only knew that I had to be obedient, that I had to listen and trust that it’s what needed to happen.

When I look back now, I’m certain Lucas would never have played for the Rangers if we stayed together.

He would’ve stayed in Georgetown for me and for his father.

He would’ve taken over the family business.

His dad isn’t impressed with how things turned out—but if he could only see his son play, he would see that Lucas being here is the right thing.

Now, the only part I still need to figure out is why God wanted me to be with Lucas in this life.

I’m sure he closed the door back then, to open it again at the right time.

Still, it feels like my life in Durham is still perfectly intact, waiting in the background.

I can only pray and be patient that His plan and purpose will be revealed as we move forward.

A shift in the air pulls me from my thoughts, the weight of a presence settling beside me.

I startle slightly, not expecting anyone to sit so close, and glance over.

A large man in a dark suit has taken the seat next to me—broad shoulders, sharp features, a goatee framing his mouth.

He doesn’t look at me right away, but there’s a tension in the way he sits, a quiet authority that demands attention.

“So you’re the girl who’s been distracting my center,” he finally says, without turning toward me. His voice is low and filled with accusation rather than question.

Defensiveness burns inside of me. This man is definitely trying to intimidate me, it’s clear in the way he holds himself, even in the way he’s breathing.

I turn toward him, meeting his challenge and showing him the courtesy he hasn’t shown me. “I’m the woman he married, yes. And my name is Hannah.”

At my response, he finally turns toward me with a smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. His grey eyes spark with a challenge as he cracks his knuckles.

“Remember that, Hannah .” He pronounces my name with a strange accent, drawing it out.

“You wouldn’t be the first woman who likes the idea of marrying a hockey player.

” He exhales, shaking his head slightly.

“Don’t get me wrong, the NHL is fun at times.

I mean those are great guys out there, but the stakes are high every time they get on the ice.

Which means I need every single one of them at their best, their focus on nothing but puck. ”

There it is. The reason he’s sitting here.

He’s sizing me up as a liability rather than a person.

Despite everything my parents raised me to be—friendly, kind, and slow to anger—this man is rubbing me the wrong way.

The assumptions he is making about me and my motives are nothing short of insulting.

I open my mouth to tell him just that, but he cuts me off.

“Wives that appear out of thin air aren’t good for team PR.” His voice remains steady, but there’s an edge to it. “Much less wives who break a player’s heart and leave the entire team in shambles in the process.”

My brows knit in a tight frown. Who does this guy think he is? He doesn’t just act like he manages the team, but rather like this all belongs to him.

“I’m not here to distract or hurt Lucas,” I say firmly. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”

The man leans back slightly, his eyes scrutinizing me as if he’s trying to see if I’m being sincere or not.

After a long pause, he nods slowly. “That’s good to hear, because this isn’t just about him. It’s about the team, the organization, and everything that comes with it.”

Frustration bubbles up inside of me. My marriage to Lucas, my life with him, is about more than hockey. We share a past, and now a future and it’s something that we will figure out together. Without this man.

“Excuse me,” I say, turning toward him fully. “But who are you? And why are you telling me how my life is impacting you so very personally?”

He lets out a deep chuckle, as if amused by my boldness. “I’m the GM. Harry Matlock.”

“Well, Mr. Matlock, I’m here to support Lucas. He deserves to play without anything or anyone holding him back.”

“Support can look a lot of different ways,” he replies, leaning forward. “It can be attending games, being at the training facility when he’s practicing, or it can mean knowing when to step back. A relationship can easily become a liability if you’re not cautious.”

My heart is racing, determination is pushing me to stand my ground.

“I’m not here to be a liability. I’m here to be his wife. If that means sacrificing some of my own plans to be a part of his life, then so be it. But I won’t let you or anyone else define what that looks like.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my fierce response. “Well, that’s refreshing then. I’ve seen plenty of players’ relationships crack under pressure. Why do you think you’re the first wife on the team? But at least it sounds like you think you’re ready for what’s to come.”

I’m not entirely sure that’s true, because all I know is that I have no idea what this is going to look like. I just know that I’m staying…no matter how difficult it may get.

Lucas is out on the ice, weaving effortlessly around his teammates, and I can’t help but smile at the way he commands the rink.

“He’s worked hard for this. He deserves to thrive, and I won’t stand in his way,” I say.

The GM nods slowly, taking in my words. “Just remember, if anything goes wrong, you’ll have to face not only Lucas but the scrutiny of the media and the fans. They can be unforgiving.”

The weight of his words settle over me. I know how fans can get and how the media can twist things—I’ve already seen that first hand. I’m sure it will only get worse now that I’m in the thick of it, but we’ll handle it together.

“Lucas and I are committed to each other. We’ll face whatever comes our way, together.”

His expression softens, and for a brief moment, there’s a glimmer of respect in his eyes. He gets up to leave, digging his hands into his pockets.

“Welcome to the Rangers, Hannah. I hope you find your place here. Just remember, we’re all in this together.”