Page 17 of From Ice to Home
She’s the last person I suspected to see in Nevada. Of all places. Duke University is on the other side of the country. I know she’s been keeping busy and doing well for herself. How could I not check in from time to time…it’s hard to forget the first girl who made you go weak in the knees. I follow her on social media, and I’m not going to lie that seeing a post every now and again brings a smile to my face.
She’s the first girl I ever fell in love with.
She obviously didn’t think too much of what we had, because she got in her little blue Honda and left Georgetown as soon as we tossed our graduation caps in the air. I’ve always played hockey and it was no secret that I had a shot at making pro. Back then I thought we’d figure it out, whether it’s her moving with me, or me staying with her. I was more than willing to build a life with her no matter which way it would go. Even if it meant staying in Georgetown, working on the family farm and living the small town life with her.
But she wanted more.
Or at least, she didn’t want me.
I stayed in Georgetown through high school, driving all over the state for games, trying to get noticed. By the time I turned eighteen, I had a decision to make. Stay in town and settle, or take the shot everyone told me I had. When Hannah left, that decision was made for me. I packed my bags and moved to play hockey.
A year later, the Rangers picked me up in the draft, and I signed my contract, knowing Georgetown was in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t home, but if she wasn’t sticking around, I needed something worth chasing.
But every year during my break, I’m back in Georgetown. Painfully aware of the fact that Hannah isn’t.
She never goes home.
“I guess you can say that,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair. My eyes land on my cubby, its contents disorganized—just like my head right now. I shove my gear aside, the tape tumbling to the floor. “And now she got away again.” I grip the edge of the cubby, my knuckles white as frustration coils in my chest. “I don’t know why I didn’t just…I don’t know. Handle this better. I should’ve known she’d run.”
Declan folds his arms, his eyebrows knitting together. “How did that even happen? I mean, seriously. You left us to go grab ice-cream or something, and the next thing you know—you’re married?” He looks at me, truly perplexed, like his brain is short-circuiting trying to make sense of it. “Not a lick of sense…That’s just…?” He shakes his head, mumbling. “Who decides that a marriage is a good idea at the end of a date? I’ve been on many dates. Many, many dates. And never---not once—have I thought ‘heck, this was so much fun, we should get married next’.”
His voice carries that same exasperation I feel, but I’m too wrapped up in my own frustration to respond right away. Helooks genuinely anxious, like my mess might somehow unravel him too.
I drop my head, still gripping the cubby, my fingers digging into the wood. My eyes stay locked on the floor, trying to come up with the answer to his question, but all I can manage is a shrug.
Straightening, I say, “We went for a walk. There was a chapel.”
Declan’s jaw drops again.
“Of course there was,” EJ says, pinching the bridge of his nose as though staving off a migraine. “But unless Elvis held a gun to your head, why on earth did you go into the chapel? Forget that—why did you say ‘I do?’ What possessed you, man?”
I exhale heavily, staring at the floor. The memory plays out in vivid detail, the chapel and the way she said ‘I do’ without a speck of hesitation. We spent the night together, still strangers in so many ways, but the connection was undeniable. It felt real then, but now, everything feels out of place, like it wasn’t meant to last.
“It just felt right,” I finally say, my voice quieter now. “We were talking—about life, about everything—and for the first time in years, I felt…I don’t know. Like I could be with her forever.”
Declan and EJ exchange a look, their expressions as transparent as always. Declan’s panic is almost comical, while EJ’s curiosity borders on disbelief.
“Where’s she now?” EJ asks, just as Declan blurts out, “How did you keep this from all of us for a week?”
Declan points at EJ, shaking his head. “His is better. Do his question first.”
I let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, leaning my head back against the cubby, zeroing in on the lights and the way they’re slightly flickering if you look long and hard enough.
“I have absolutely no idea where she is. She left.” The words taste bitter, and I chuckle, hollow and forced. “I don’t know where my wife is.”
The laugh bubbles up again, uncontrollably, spilling out in a way that feels wrong. “I’m sitting in a locker room in Canada, in the middle of the playoffs while I got married a week ago. A week ago! I should be on my honeymoon, with my wife, figuring out where we should live or—“ I bark out another laugh, but it dies quickly, along with the thought of us picking out furniture for our home. “It’s insane.”
The absurdity shifts, the knot in my chest tightening. The situation suddenly doesn’t feel so funny anymore, instead my insides are churning with frustration.
How could she do this? How could she leave? Again?
I straighten abruptly, pacing in front of the locker. My mind runs in circles, replaying that night over again. Did I say something wrong? Not say enough? Did she already plan to leave, or did I push her away?
Without thinking, I whirl around and slam my fist against the edge of the cubby. I don’t even feel the sting in my hand, the pain silenced by the storm inside of me. “Why can’t she just answer the damn phone!”
The silence I’m met with is thick. When I glance at them, there’s a flicker of sympathy in their faces…and it stings.
“Are you going to call it quits?” EJ asks carefully. The worry etched across his features.
