Page 53 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)
HANNAH
T he Rangers lost last night.
I waited for Lucas to call me after the game, but the silence stretched long into the night. When I finally tried calling him, it went straight to voicemail. Just before midnight, a pair of texts lit up my screen, only slightly easing my worries.
I’m fine. Back at hotel. Need some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Sleep tight, Sanders. I miss you
I stared at the words longer than I should have.
They were simple, they were honest, they were him.
He’s hurting, I know he is. It breaks my heart to know that he’s going through something and I’m not able to be there for him.
At least not in the way I want to be. When we’re apart, I can only support him over the phone. But only if he lets me in.
Lucas has another game tomorrow night and only then will he come home.
This morning my mom called as soon as the sun came up.
She knew something was wrong, but didn’t want to call last night.
Turns out my whole family watched the game night, determined to support Lucas in any way they can.
I didn’t mention the media or the article, instead I tried to ease her worries and promised her that I’d try to get all of them tickets to the final game.
She saw right through it, as always, and offered prayers for the both of us.
I set my phone on the kitchen counter, heading to the laundry room with my arms full.
I send a silent thank you to Liz and Mona who brought more of my clothes back with them.
I’m sure as soon as the playoffs are over, we’ll make a trip to Durham to pack the rest of my things and sort out the lease on my apartment.
The phone vibrates on the counter.
Dropping the laundry basket, I rush over, hoping it’s Lucas.
Frowning at the screen, I watch the unknown number flash across it. It might be Lucas calling from another phone…or it might be someone trying to sell me a timeshare in the middle of nowhere.
“Hello?” I answer, my finger hovering on the red button just in case.
“Hannah?” A man’s voice comes through the phone. Gruff. Stern. “This is Harry Matlock.”
I blink, caught off guard.
“Uh, good morning,” I say, unable to keep the shock and disbelief from my voice. “Is everything alright? Is Lucas okay?”
My mind spirals immediately, because why else would the General Manager of the New York Rangers be calling me this early in the morning.
“That depends on how you look at it.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, gripping the phone so hard, my hand hurts. “Did something happen?”
“Physically, he’s fine,” Harry says and I sigh with relief. “But that’s not enough. ”
“You nearly gave me a heart attack.” I breathe out, leaning against the counter with my hand on my chest.
Turning around, I get the coffee machine started. If I’m going to have a conversation with Harry, I’m going to need caffeine to get me through it.
“Good, because this is that serious,” he replies coolly. “I don’t make a habit of calling the women my players see. But since you’re the first wife , and one that popped up mid-playoffs, I’m obviously making an exception.”
He says the word ‘wife’ like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
“What can I do for you, Harry?” I ask, figuring it’s best to just keep my side clean. Whatever issues the GM has, it’s clearly not with me personally. “I’m guessing this is important.”
“You know about the article, I assume,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“I invite PR coverage, always have. It drives ticket sales and keeps the fanbase happy. But this? This kind of press hurts us. And I don’t like it when my players’ personal lives bleed into the game.
Especially when there’s a Cup on the line. ”
I take a deep breath and ready myself for the conversation ahead.
The article was obviously designed to sting, and by suggesting we’re already having trouble in our marriage, it did just that.
I haven’t even properly discussed this with Lucas and already his GM is calling me before seven in the morning.
“I didn’t write the article, Harry,” I say, adding coffee beans to the grinder. “Maybe you should take it up with SportNews .”
“I’m taking it up with you,” he says, cool and firm. “Because my player isn’t sleeping, he’s definitely not scoring, and right now? That starts with you.”
Turning on the coffee grinder, I let the hum of it calm me down. There’s no sense in getting into things with Harry Matlock right now. He silently dares me to argue, before he continues.
“You show up to a game with no ring on your finger, fresh out of Vegas. You don’t think that looks bad? Half the league is wondering if you’re just some fangirl who trapped him. And now my center can’t see straight enough to find the back of the net.”
I set the coffee beans down, jaw tightening. Breathe Hannah.
“Listen Harry, I want to discuss this with my husband first. Our personal life is our own, despite what you or the media might think—“
“You see that’s where you’re wrong,” he says, his voice pure steel now.
“You didn’t enter into a normal marriage, no matter how much you might want it to be true.
Whether you like it or not, you married Lucas Walker .
Which means you basically married his team, his manager, and the whole damn New York.
This is about more than you. And that showed last night when Lucas couldn’t close a single shift.
The team is paying him big money for doing what he’s supposed to do, and if he can’t deliver there will be no renewing his contract. ”
I swallow back the words brewing in my throat.
My fingers tighten around the phone as I watch the coffee machine sputter to life.
The aroma hits me hard, but it does nothing to calm the unease twisting in my stomach.
If I bite back now, I’ll be no better than Harry, who’s clearly upset and taking it out on me.
Deep down, I can hear this is about more than the team.
It’s about Lucas too. Even if he would never admit it to me.
“Harry,” my voice remains calm. “When I first met you, I told you I don’t want to hurt Lucas or his career. That’s still true, and will always be. I’m not here to take anything away from him, or from you. I want to support what he’s building, not stand in the way of it.”
He sighs deeply, silence stretching between us. It feels like I can hear him calming down on the other side of the phone. He said what he needed to say, and I’m ninety-nine percent certain he’s talking to me because he’s not sure a conversation with Lucas would be the most helpful thing right now.
“Then you’re going to have to make up for it,” he says, finally. “If I know my center, I’m willing to bet he didn’t tell you about the gala.”
It’s a statement rather than a question.
“No,” I ask, pulling the biggest coffee mug from the cupboard. “He didn’t tell me about it.”
“There’s a charity gala right after the playoffs final. Big names, big money, a lot of important people will be attending,” he says, pausing for a second. “I told him about it just when you got back from Vegas.”
Lucas not mentioning the gala isn’t something that worries me.
Instead, I think it would be better if I handled things like this with Harry directly, maybe it would help to take some pressure off Lucas.
I’m not an extrovert and I’ve never attended charity galas in my life, but if it’s important to Lucas then I’ll figure it out.
“You want us to show up and show everybody that all is well.”
“You want that too, Hannah,” Harry says. “You want the narrative cleaned up as much as I do.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “You’re not wrong,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “I want people to stop speculating. Not because something is wrong, but because there isn’t.”
There’s a beat of silence on his end. All I want is for the people to stop focusing on our lives and move on already. Lucas and I are figuring this out, we’re honest with each other and we want to make this work. We don’t need the pressure of thousands of people watching every step we take.
“Good,” he says. “I’m sure after the gala, the tone will shift.”
“It will keep shifting as we move along, Harry.” I sigh, pouring the milk in the steamer and trying to keep my voice even despite the raging pressure I’m feeling inside of me. “But I’m guessing you want the pressure off Lucas sooner rather than later. Sooner, meaning before the final.”
This is more difficult than I thought it would be. Yes, we’re sorting through our marriage, in our own time and way. But now it feels like we have to fast-track our emotions in order to please other people. I don’t like it. That’s not how love works.
I want to sort things out with Lucas because of us, not because of Harry Matlock, the Rangers, or @SuzieFans123.
“Yes,” he says, quieter this time. “That’s obviously the ideal.”
“I can’t go to Vancouver, Harry,” I say, pouring myself a cup of coffee and waiting for the milk. “I don’t have a passport yet, we haven’t had time to sort the documentation. I’ll have to do what I can from here.”
He sighs. “I’ll make a few calls. I’m sure we can sort out something temporary.”
“Harry—“
“Look, I know this might seem…drastic or harsh even,” he pauses. “But know that I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.”
Stirring my coffee, I glance out the window, taking in the clear morning sky. “I know.”
“I’ll let you know what I got done,” he says. With that the line goes dead.
I stare at the phone, taking in the silence. It’s still early but it already feels like it’s been a hard day. I take a sip of my coffee before reaching for the honey.
I drizzle it in, watching it swirl…thick, golden and sweet.
Sweeter than honey and drippings of the honeycomb. The words drift through my memory. It’s from Psalm 19, I think. God’s Law is perfect, his Word true.
Not like the noise from the outside world.
I stir the coffee and take another sip. Smiling, I enjoy the sweet taste of honey .