Page 8 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

HANNAH

Baxley’s is the place I went on my first date with Lucas—first official date at least.

As I drive through town, the memories buried in every corner of this town slowly reappear.

From sneaking into late-night showings with Lucas, to morning runs along the pier.

Spending time together at church and summers swimming in the ocean at Camp Grace.

I wonder if Lucas ever thought of me, of us, whenever he came home.

Perhaps that’s another reason I couldn’t bring myself to come home for more than a few days at a time.

Past the movie theater the white steeple of our church is tall against the blue Carolina sky.

My dad’s sermons are woven into the very fabric of my being, those that came from the pulpit and those that were given around the kitchen table.

In Durham I attended church, but there’s something different about having your dad’s voice reassure you of your Saviour’s grace and love.

Perhaps that’s the reason I’ve been drifting without even realizing it.

How else would I be able to explain how I got to where I am right now?

The familiar nudge in my spirit tells me that He’s not far off…

God will always be God no matter how much I might change.

He stays the same even if my dedication wavers, even if I go quiet.

I’m used to talking to God about everything, especially when things are hard.

When I broke up with Lucas, it was because I was so sure it’s what God wanted for the both of us.

It didn’t feel good, my heart was shattered afterward…

but it felt right . Following God isn’t always easy, I know that, but I’ve always had faith that He has something better for me.

But then Vegas happened. Then Lucas happened.

And now I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been too ashamed to bring it all to Him…the impulsive decision, the emotions, the fear that maybe I acted selfish for the first time in my life. I’m not even sure how to pray about it, because what if I already messed everything up?

So now I’m doing the only thing I can think of…I’m going home.

Windows down, salty air curling around me like a memory, I drive through the familiar streets. Everything just as I left it. Only now, everything feels different. Because I’m different. Because I’m not sure if I’m here to hide or to find answers.

And that’s the thing about guilt. It doesn’t always show up in big, obvious ways. Sometimes it’s silent, buried. Sometimes it’s hidden in the excuses we make not to come home.

Durham isn’t that far from Georgetown—not really.

It’s easily an afternoon's drive and yet I couldn’t find the time to make the trip back home in over a year.

My parents were more than willing to come to me for a visit.

I know my mother would’ve loved another tour of the campus while my dad would’ve searched the city for the best burger he could find.

But I always had something else going on: study groups, TA hours, classes, part-time jobs.

Every single day since I’ve been at Duke has been filled with enjoying my independence and building a life that’s my own.

I wanted to manage all of it, so I can look back and see what I’ve built by myself.

Maybe that need to prove I could stand on my own two feet is part of why I never said yes to being a counselor at Camp Grace. That and the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to come back to the place where I’d spent every summer with Lucas. Dad’s asked me to come home every summer since I left.

And why wouldn’t he?

I’ve loved growing up at camp, the adventures and the friendships and the faith-filled moments on the beach.

But after high school, I couldn’t come back to Georgetown or Camp Grace.

I couldn’t even bring myself to attend the graduate program my dad started the year I graduated.

Knowing I’d broken up with Lucas, I just had to get out of this town and I didn’t want to come back.

Even for something as meaningful as helping out at camp.

Because Lucas wasn’t just someone I loved. He was everything this place represented. He was home, comfort, tradition, roots…a life that would’ve been safe and good and simple. But I didn’t think God was calling me to that.

I believed, with everything in me, that if He was opening a door for Lucas to chase his dream, then maybe He had something more for me too.

Something different. I didn’t want to stay behind, watching the life we might have had unfold without me in it.

I wanted to trust that God’s goodness included me, too.

That He wanted me to build a life that felt fully mine.

So I left. Not because I didn’t love it here, but because I did.

And leaving felt like the only way I could figure out who I was beyond this place…beyond him . I believed that if it wasn’t Lucas in Georgetown, it would be someone else…somewhere else.

And I was right on track with my plan…up until about forty-eight hours ago.

When everything I believed clashed with reality.

Driving past the multi-coloured buildings in midtown, I spot old man Deacon walking with his newspaper in hand.

He’s the only one I know who insists on heading down to the local cafe to pick up his copy of the morning paper, instead of receiving it on his doorstep like most other citizens in this town.

I can’t help but smile at the familiar sight before making another turn down Davies Street, heading home.

Anxiety churns in my stomach at the thought of seeing my parents again.

Will they take one look at me and immediately know the truth?

Or will they chalk up any subtle changes there might possibly be to the fact that we haven’t seen each other in a year?

Guilt presses down on me and I feel the absolute weight of it on my chest. How did I think it’s okay to stay away from home for so long?

Just because I wanted to start my own life somewhere, didn’t mean that I had to completely cut off my family.

Maybe if I realized I needed to touch base more often, I wouldn’t have done what I had done.

I wouldn’t have made a mistake that seems unfixable.

My heart fills with disappointment, and tears sting the back of my eyes as I look down at my hand on the steering wheel.

The simple golden wedding band is just resting there on my ring finger, like it’s been there forever—like it’s settled in for the long haul. Like it belongs there, but it doesn’t. At least not like this.

Before I can second-guess myself, I quickly pull it off and shove it into the glove compartment, having absolutely no intention of telling my parents about what happened. Especially not by flashing a ring in their faces.

They might die when they see it.

I almost did. That’s for sure.

“Mom, Dad. I’m married,” I say out loud, my voice coming out extremely wobbly. How on earth am I supposed to break the news to my family, if I can’t even say it out loud without sounding like I’m about to throw up.

I’m married .

And I’m not entirely sure how it happened.

I woke up yesterday morning, in a hotel room in Vegas.

Groggy and disoriented, it took me a full minute to register where I was—that it was supposed to be a girls weekend with Mona and Liz to celebrate graduation.

It was a trip I wasn’t keen on to begin with, because Vegas really isn’t my scene.

It’s a city I never would’ve visited on my own since I’ve never had any interest in the city that’s known for it’s wild and reckless nature.

But it felt like a rite of passage of sorts, which is apparently why Mona thought it would be a good idea.

And idiot that I am, I thought that two days in Nevada couldn’t harm anybody.

That was obviously a lie from the enemy himself, because that little trip upended my entire life.

Yesterday morning, as I was faced with the green-and-gold curtains of a strange hotel room, it all came flooding back to me.

Images of care-free laughing, kissing, and red neon lights with plastic flowers.

If the man next to me in bed wasn’t a dead give-away, the absolute weight of the golden wedding band on my ring finger was .

I got married to Lucas Walker.

The guy I fell for when I was fifteen and I let my guard down. The same guy I left in the rearview mirror when I went to Duke five years ago. He was the last person I expected to see in Nevada, but after he came over and placed that glass of champagne down in front of me I couldn’t escape him.

Honestly, I wouldn’t have tried even if the opportunity presented itself.

Seeing Lucas after all this time jolted me back to days spent together on the beach and on his farm, stealing kisses on the back of his truck and going for walks on the pier.

He is obviously a grown man now, and a full-sized New York Ranger to boot.

Seeing him like that unraveled whatever sense I’d thought I had, making me want to soak up every possible second with him until he had to leave for New York again.

Obviously things escalated. What should’ve been two old friends catching up over dessert, quickly turned into me finding myself in a strange hotel room, my clothes on the floor.

That was when horror struck in waves.

At first I was overwhelmed by panic because I’d broken the promise I made to God. That promise had been more than words. It was my way of honoring Him, of living a life according to His will and purpose. It was a commitment, one I’d woven into my heart, to who I was supposed to be.

And then in a single, reckless night, I’d broken it.