Page 65 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

DECLAN

Yanking on the tie Lucas made me wear today, I loosen it and toss it on the bar counter.

It’s been a long, busy day. A day full of people in love, happy families, and one too many sermons.

Despite all that, I’ve got to give the guy credit.

He somehow turned this barn into a halfway decent reception hall.

The wooden beams overhead, the lanterns casting a soft glow across the interior, even the hay bales stacked in the corners…

it all adds to the rustic Southern charm of this wedding.

That, and the open bar.

“I’ll have another,” I say, sliding my empty glass toward the bartender.

He gives a small nod before pouring more of the golden liquid into a clean tumbler. Tonight, it’s bourbon—neat, sharp, and burning down my throat just the way I like it. Especially after a day that didn’t go the way I wanted.

Luckily, this isn’t our bar back home. If it were, Lucas might’ve told Mike to cut me off a few rounds ago. Then again, he probably forgot about keeping an eye on me. He hasn’t taken his eyes off his wife all day.

Which is probably the way it should be .

Let them enjoy it while it lasts.

“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the drink from the bartender.

Turning around, I lean against the counter, taking it all in. The dresses, the flowers, the laughter and the chatter of the guests. Everyone’s getting along like they’re in a Hallmark movie. Their happiness fills the air like a giant cloud of… pink.

It’s suffocating.

I’m silently counting down the seconds until it’s socially acceptable for me to disappear without anyone noticing.

As one of the groomsmen, I’ve had to be more involved than I’d like—especially since I’m not the kind of guy anyone should be taking wedding advice from. Not unless the advice is “don’t do it,” which probably wouldn’t have been appreciated. They’re already married, anyway. Bit late for that.

I don’t have anything against people who want to get married. If they want to tie themselves down until they can’t stand the sight of each other, that’s their business. Some folks don’t seem to mind going through divorce after divorce—losing and gaining houses, money, cars, and who knows what else.

I just don’t get it.

You’d think with a mom working on husband number four, I’d understand the appeal—something about the hunt for love or the hope of finding the right one eventually. But all it’s taught me is that it’s not worth the trouble. Or the money.

Nobody on the team is married. Not even our long-time captain, who’s been engaged for seven years.

But then Lucas made a decision… and somehow I’m the one paying for it.

Ever since he tied the knot in Vegas a few months ago, something shifted.

I can feel it in the locker room…this weird buzz, like something’s changing.

Even the PR team has started pitching a different angle when it comes to how they spin our personal lives.

Now there’s this unspoken expectation hanging in the air. I don’t like it.

Add in the fact that Avah’s been throwing shade at me every chance she gets, and I’m feeling more than irritated.

Taking a slow sip of my drink, I let the sharp burn settle in my chest as my gaze drifts across the dance floor. Melodic laughter pulls my attention to EJ, spinning his sister around to the beat of the music. He’s looking at her with a sense of quiet pride.

I can see why he admires her. She’s strong. Fierce. She doesn’t hold back.

Which is exactly why she’s been a thorn in my side since the day she moved to New York.

She’s not on the team, but she might as well be with how often she’s around. She shows up at games, special events, practices and even team get-togethers. And then she likes to make her opinion known, especially when it comes to me.

I’ve always lived life a certain way, and I’ve figured out how to make that work with my career. My process keeps me focused on the only thing that matters: hockey. My teammates have had their opinions about my lifestyle, sure, but no one ever pushed hard enough to make me re-evaluate anything.

Until Avah Johannson decided to make my private life her personal mission.

I don’t know a thing about her personal life, and yet she’s got more opinions about mine than she should. The last time we crossed paths, she managed to get under my date’s skin so badly, I had to spend the whole night reassuring the woman about the nature of our agreement.

That’s not part of the deal. It’s supposed to be simple. Stay simple.

But Avah had to go and mess that up.

For the first time, cutting things off with Megan at the end of the season wasn’t clean. It was a headache. I had to block her. On everything.

And that— all of that —is Avah’s fault .

The thought stirs a slow burn of frustration that spikes into something hotter. I toss back the rest of my drink and set the glass on the bar behind me with a dull clink.

She’s still dancing with EJ, looking completely content. Her movements are soft, controlled. She follows the rhythm without missing a beat. Her nearly white hair is braided over her shoulder like always, the blue of her dress making her eyes stand out even from across the room.

As the song ends, something in her expression falters, just for a second. She pastes on a smile for her brother and gestures toward the back. EJ doesn’t think twice, just kisses her on the cheek and heads off—straight toward Liz, one of Hannah’s bridesmaids.

But my gaze follows Avah as she quietly makes her way to the exit. And before I know it, my feet are moving too.

Maybe it’s the bourbon.

Maybe it’s the suffocating air.

Maybe I’ve just had enough of the fake smiles and perfect pictures.

Or maybe it’s because I’ve listened to her take shots at me for a year…

And now I’ve got something to say back.