Page 55 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

LUCAS

“ I can’t tell you how great it is to be back home.”

It’s like I can breathe again for the first time in a week. We have three days off before we play our next game. Three days to rest, to reset, and to get ourselves geared for when we face the Canucks again.

I haven’t been gone for more than six days, and yet it feels like I’ve stepped into a different home than the one I left.

“You’ve settled in,” I say, taking in the living room and the changes she’s made.

Now, there’s a coffee table in the middle of it, soft pillows on the couches, and a plant sitting in the corner by the window.

But what draws my attention is the wall behind the TV.

It’s now a dark navy blue. It looks like something out of a magazine, but it’s better because she did it.

The TV is still mounted in the middle of it, but now it’s framed on either side by carefully arranged photo frames, Scripture verses, and a rustic clock ticking away into the quiet.

It’s a far cry from the empty room I used to sit in when watching game tapes and eating pizza from the box.

“I love it, Sanders,” I say, drawn to the display .

My eyes scan over the display. Hannah somehow got a hold of the photo where I scored my first NHL goal.

Stick raised, eyes focused, puck flying toward the net…

the perfect action shot. Alongside it, there’s a photo of the two of us from our last summer at Camp Grace.

We’re still kids in that photo. Side by side, barefoot in the sand, our eyes are locked on one another, unaware of someone taking our picture.

This wall tells a story, our story.

“I hope it’s not too much. When I got started, I couldn’t stop.” She comes to stand next to me, and I pull her into my side. She points to the photo of the two of us sitting on the beach. “Do you remember that? I think one of the counselors took it the last day at Camp.”

I remember that moment. That night I told her I loved her.

We sat on the beach and talked about our dreams, our plans, our hopes for the future.

At the time, I didn’t know how real any of it would become.

I only knew that I loved her, and that I wanted her to be with me no matter which of my dreams came true.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my chest.

“Hannah,” I say, her name thick in my throat. “I love you.”

She stills for a moment, her green eyes wide and soft, shining with emotion.

“I don’t think I’ve said that since we said ‘I do’,” I add, my voice softer. “But I’ve felt it every single day we were apart. I never stopped loving you, even when you walked away from me five years ago.”

Her green eyes light up, a small, tender smile tugs at her full mouth. “I’ve never doubted that, Lucas. Not once.”

Hearing her say that eases something inside of me. I want her to know how much I love her, how much I care about her. I never want her to feel unloved. Not even for a second.

“I love you too,” she says, placing her hand over my heart. “Do you know that?”

Her question is laced with vulnerability, and I don’t like that she thinks that I might doubt her love.

“I’ve always known that,” I say after searching my heart for the truth.

We have been through a lot, but thinking about it now, I’ve never believed she didn’t love me. I just thought it wasn’t enough.

I take her hand in mine and press a kiss against her knuckles. My gaze flickers to her hand, just briefly, and the knot in my chest tightens again. Her hand is still bare.

“What I don’t know,” I say quietly, “is why you haven’t been wearing your wedding ring.”

Her gaze follows mine, and she swallows.

“Lucas,” she says, her voice soft and careful. “All I can do is tell you the truth.”

I don’t let go of her hand when she takes a small step backward. I won’t ever let her go, no matter what happens.

“I love you. I want to be your wife. I want to do this right. I want to be everything you need. I don’t want to fail.” Her voice trembles, but she presses through. “Those are the things I know with certainty.”

“What I don’t know,” she whispers, “is why I can’t bring myself to put the ring on my finger.”

With that, she turns away from me. Not with finality, not in rejection, but filling the space between us with the weight of everything she’s still working through.

I take a second, filing away the truth she just gave me.

None of those things were words of rejections.

If anything, it shows how much she wants this, how much she wants to make this work.

It eases some of the tension about her not wearing her ring.

But not all of it.

Because something is still missing for Hannah.

And as her husband, it’s my duty and responsibility to help her get to where she needs to be. I can’t just stand back and let her navigate through this on her own. We’re going to have to walk this out, together.

She starts busying herself with the duffel I brought in. I follow her as she carries it through the kitchen, into the laundry room. Setting it on the counter, she unpacks it, sorting through my clothes without a word.

Leaning against the doorframe, I watch her hands carefully handling my jerseys. I give her a minute, knowing she’s sorting through more than laundry.

“We have someone to do that for us, you know,” I say, knowing she knows about the staff I’ve hired to keep everything going around here.

Without looking up, she says, “I sort of adjusted Carmen’s hours.”

I frown, casting a glance back into the kitchen. It definitely looks like Carmen has been here. The floors are shining, everything’s in its place.

“Why?” I ask. “Have you been doing everything yourself?”

She shrugs. “I was going to be here the whole week anyway. She didn’t have to come in and clean up. I can do that myself,” she says, her eyes meeting mine for a second. “I think we’ll have her come help out a bit more next week. When everyone is here?”

“Everyone?” I ask, watching her start a load before walking back past me into the kitchen. “Who’s everyone?”

She opens the pantry door, the shelves stocked like I haven’t seen them before. Hannah takes out a few things, lining them up on the counter next to her. She’s deflecting. And she’s doing a pretty decent job of it.

“I thought we could invite your dad and Noah to come and watch your next game?” she says, her voice casual. “I know my family would also love to come. ”

This time it’s me who’s not ready for a conversation.

Things are difficult with my dad…to say the very least.

He hasn’t watched a single one of my NHL games, no matter how many times I’ve asked him to bring Noah. To say that it hurts is an understatement. Part of me has used that and driven it into my game, playing harder each and every time. Although it’s always been a way of covering the hurt.

“Your family is more than welcome, Sanders,” I say, my voice steady. “We have enough room for everyone and I’d love to have them here.”

She pauses, sensing there’s more. “But?” she asks.

“But my dad won’t come.”

She stills at the counter, her gaze finding mine, concern written in her eyes.

“Why not?” she asks.

I exhale, forcing out the truth. “He’s never watched me play. Not one NHL game.”

There’s a flicker of shame moving through me as I say it out loud. I hate that it gets to me that much, that I’ve given him this much power over me, even without meaning too. I just wish things could’ve been different.

Her eyes widen, the look on her face turning into sympathy and then guilt.

“Don’t even think it, Hannah,” I say quickly, knowing she’s blaming herself for my dad’s lack of enthusiasm about my career choice. “This has got nothing to do with you or us. That’s his decision and his alone.”

“But if I—-”

“But if he’d been able to let things go and be happy for me, he would’ve been here. And he would’ve allowed my little brother to come too.”

I know Noah watches the games. But whenever I’ve sent tickets, my dad had some reason for him not to come out to New York.

I’ve tried to keep my relationship with my dad as steady as possible, but sometimes it’s hard, since it feels like it’s mostly one-sided.

I’ve stopped counting the number of times I spent in the locker room, after the game, checking my phone for a message that never came.

Just one: ‘Nice goal,’ or ‘We watched.’ Anything. But there’s always been silence.

She steps toward me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head against my chest. Something cracks open inside of me. Not big or dramatic, just unexpected. I don’t think I’ve realized how much I’ve been holding on to this until now, until she’s here.

Steady, warm, and not letting go.

“I know it’s not easy, Lucas,” she says, her voice quiet, yet strong. “But maybe this isn’t about what he deserves, but about what you need.”

I sigh, breathing her in. I know.

That doesn’t mean I wish I didn’t have to deal with this. But at some point I’ll have, unless I plan on carrying this weight into every single game I’ll ever play.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” I say, placing a kiss in her golden hair.

“You love me anyway,” she says, her voice lighter now, looking up at me with a soft, tender smile.

“God knows I do.” Leaning down, I press a soft kiss against her lips. Filled with quiet love and gratitude.

She steps toward the counter, picking up my phone.

“Call him? Or maybe Noah? If it’s a no, then at least you know you still left the door open.” Her fingers softly brushes against mine as she hands me my phone. “I’m going to check on the laundry then I’m making you something to eat. What time do you have to be at the rink?”

My heart swells with love. God knew I needed this woman in my life. I knew I wanted her back, but it wasn’t until she stepped back into my life that I knew how much I needed her.

“After two,” I say. “And then I won’t be back until late. ”

She places a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Call.”