Page 41 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

“I’m sorry about that,” Avah says with a sigh, adjusting her braid as we lean against the bar.

“I shouldn’t let people get under my skin so easily.

I know I need to work on my temper, and I really shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

” She lets out a sharp breath. “It’s just I don’t have a lot of time for people who treat relationships like a game, you know? ”

I glance at her, a bit shocked at her honesty and by how quickly she owns it. There’s something refreshing about it. No mask. No sugarcoating it.

“I get it,” I tell her, taking a sip of my drink. “And to be honest, I agree with you. But that’s Declan’s business. And Megan’s. I don’t know either of them but I also don’t need to. They will make their own choices, their own mistakes, and face their own responsibilities.”

Avah takes a deep breath, slowly and thoughtfully. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. That’s such a healthy way to look at it. I guess I’m still learning how to pause before I react.”

I give her a soft smile. “Responding with grace isn’t always easy in the heat of the moment. Believe me, I know.”

She laughs quietly. “Blurting out ‘Michelle’ sure wasn’t my best moment.”

“Well, at least it gave me a front row seat to some first class sass,” I say, nudging her playfully. “But seriously? It’s not everyday you meet someone who’s real about their shortcomings. Especially not five minutes into meeting someone.”

Avah glances over, her expression shifting to something warm and sincere. “I like you Hannah. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how this was going to go…given how things can be with the other women. But I’m glad we met.”

“Me too,” I say, meaning it. “It’s nice to not feel so alone here.”

“Well, you’re not.” She clinks her glass gently against mine. “Not anymore.”

A smile tugs at my lips. It’s the first real feeling of belonging I’ve felt since stepping into this world.

“Now,” I say, picking up my glass and motioning toward the ice. “Let’s go sit so we don’t miss the puck drop.”

Moving back toward our seat, Megan moved her bag and placed it on the seat between us. A clear boundary drawn without a word.

“Ooh, it’s about to start,” Avah says, propping her feet against the glass with practiced ease.

Blue lights swipe across the rink, the sound of the fans cheering like a wave crashing over itself. Red and white lights flicker to the beat of the music as time counts down on the jumbotron. The bass thunders beneath our feet and I can’t help but smile as excitement thrums through me.

Each player is introduced with dramatic flair, their names echoing through the arena as images of them flash on the screen and they skate out onto the ice.

When Lucas is announced, the fans jump to their feed, yelling his name.

“Your man is a crowd favourite,” Avah says, nudging me with her elbow, a knowing grin on her face.

Just after Lucas, EJ is introduced, his picture displayed on the screen. Now, with his photo up there, the resemblance is striking. They have the same light skin, the same blue eyes and light hair.

“So’s your brother. Are you twins?” I ask, genuinely wondering.

She laughs. “Almost. He’s only like eighteen months older than me. But he never lets me forget it. As far as he’s concerned, I’m still his little sister.”

Next, the Leafs are introduced and the crowd boos loudly. A wave of discomfort crashes over me, and I find myself shifting in my seat.

Megan glances at me, barely containing a laugh. “It’s fierce competition out there, don’t think the Rangers would get a warmer welcome if we were over in Toronto.”

“She’s right you know,” Avah says, with a shrug. “It’s all part of the game. The fans live for that stuff.”

“Maybe, but my mom taught me it’s bad form. Everyone works hard, trains hard, and earns their place out there.” Call it a pet peeve, but I don’t like it at all. I think it’s rude.

“Oh honey.” Megan looks at me with mock sympathy on her face. “The fans are going to eat you alive.”

I try my best to ignore her comment, but there’s no hiding the fact that she’s gotten under my skin with her words.

The fans have already said horrible things about me and I’m certain it’s only the beginning.

Scanning the sea of navy blue and red out there, more than a few are wearing Lucas’s number.

There are even a few signs out there proposing marriage to a few players on the ice…

and a few that are beyond inappropriate.

“Don’t let her get to you. Really, she won’t last long,” Avah says casually, although there’s an odd sincerity to her tone of voice. Although Avah tried to keep her voice down, Megan heard the comment.

“Ugh,” Megan snaps, clearly offended. “What’s your problem? That’s a terrible thing to say. ”

“Maybe.” Avah shrugs, turning toward Megan, owning it once again. “I just call it like I see it.”

“You don’t know me,” Megan fires back, crossing her arms. “You don’t know us.”

Avah exhales slowly, clearly trying to keep herself in check. “Maybe not. But I’ve been around hockey players long enough to recognize patterns. And Declan isn’t exactly subtle.”

“Wow. Jealousy doesn’t look too good on you,” Megan says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Just because you’re not wearing anyone’s number…”

Her words hang between them. Avah doesn’t flinch, but I catch the way her jaw tightens for a second.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” I say, watching as Lucas wins the opening face-off. “We’re here to watch the game.”

The puck clacks hard against the boards beneath us, and a wave of players slam into the glass in a blur of speed and aggression. The sudden rush on the ice fractures the tension in our row, at least for now.

The crowd erupts, chanting ‘Let’s Go Rangers’, as the players battle for the puck. Cheers echoes through the arena, so loudly, it feels like the entire building is shaking.

The Rangers keep control of the puck with crisp, clean passes. Lucas dishes it to EJ, who directs it back to Declan at the blue line. Lucas cuts across the crease, getting into position at the post. Declan doesn’t miss the opportunity and fires. Lucas tips it in clean behind the Leafs’ goalie.

The horn blares. The song kicks in and the crowd yells, “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Forty seconds into the game and they’re already on the board.

Beside me, Avah exhales and relaxes slightly. Megan, however, is now glued to her phone, only half-watching.

My heart is racing. Lucas is now back at center ice for the face-off, leaning low over his stick as he squares up against Toronto’s first-line center. It’s clear they’re exchanging words, but what they’re actually saying is anybody’s guess. Lucas’s stance tenses…he’s locked in.

“If we win this, the Rangers will be going to the finals,” Megan says without taking her eyes off her phone. “New York is going to go insane. Just imagine the parties and the media coverage—it’s going to blow up.”

She looks up, a satisfied smile on her lips as she looks at the players on the ice. Her words hang in the air, like a promise of things to come. But something in her tone makes me think it’s not just about hockey for her.

The sudden urge to pray for Megan stirs in me but I ignore it. It’s not my place, I don’t know her or anything about her life. I’m not entirely certain she’d want my prayers or my help with anything.

For the next twenty minutes, I’m on the edge of my seat. Declan has checked a few players into the boards, some of them harder than necessary. If he continues like this, he’s bound to end up in the penalty box.

Lucas, EJ and the rookie, are the perfect line.

There’s nothing that can break through their offense—they are in perfect sync.

Lucas threads a pass to Lindgren, who weaves between two defenders, cutting behind the net before sending the puck back to Lucas.

He picks it up with precision, barely hesitating before ripping a shot into the top corner.

The goalie tries to block it, but the puck hurls over his pads, underneath his arm, hitting the net with speed.

The red light flashes and the goal horn blares through the arena.

The Rangers’ goal song kick in and thousands of voices belt out the familiar ‘Hey! Hey! Hey!’ in unison.

We’re up 2-0, and my nerves are starting to settle.

In hockey having a two-goal lead doesn’t mean that much.

It can all change in a matter of seconds.

Glancing toward Megan, she’s still on her phone. The thought comes back—this time a little bit stronger as it presses on my heart.

Pray for her.

The weight of it is undeniable, like God Himself is insisting that I do this, like he doesn’t want me to dismiss it again.

Father, I hear You . I look toward Megan, really look at her. She’s alone here, not really talking to anybody else, glued to her phone. I’m not sure what to pray, so I go with what I feel led to say. Trying to clear my mind, I try to pray for Megan.

I have no idea who the woman beside me is, Father.

But I know that she’s important to You, and that’s all that matters.

That’s all that should matter. So I ask that You reveal Yourself to her in some way.

Show her where she can find all she’s ever looked for in her life.

Show her that she’ll only ever find life, love, and comfort in You, in Jesus our Savior.

Avah touches my shoulder, startling me out of my prayer.

“Let’s get new drinks,” she suggests, then pauses, a grin spreading on her face. “Or wait, on second thought…”

She points toward the jumbotron above the rink. The first period ended and the cameras found me. They’re showing me and Lucas, side by side.