Page 22 of From Ice to Home
I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry if I’ve crossed some kind of line.
Please, just talk to me. Sanders, I need to know what’s going on.
His words blur in front of me as my heart aches inside my chest.
What is happening?
How am I supposed to answer him when I don’t know the answer to the questions? I’ve typed and retyped multiple texts, but none of the words feel right. None of them feel big enough to describe what I’m feeling. I don’t know what to say to him, I don’t know what he wants to hear.
I don’t know what is right anymore.
The waves crash softly against the shoreline, the sound soothing the ache inside me. Kicking off my shoes, I allow my feet to sink into the damp sand, the cool grains brushing against my skin with each step I take closer to the water. Above me, the sky's the perfect watercolor blend of blue and gold, the last rays of sunlight shimmering across the water. But even thebeauty and comfort of this place, can’t calm the storm inside my heart.
That night with Lucas was absolutely perfect. Every single minute of it felt like it was a gift of God’s grace. I’m not someone who believes in chance, but rather in providence. That’s the way I felt seeing him after so long—in a city neither of us was supposed to be in the first place. Perhaps that’s the feeling I was riding on the whole time I was with him. That it was all part of God’s plan, a way to give us back what we lost all those years ago. It felt like my obedience back then didn’t have to mean goodbye forever, that maybe it meant ‘just not yet’.
Even after we got married, after the ceremony when we went back to the hotel and we became husband and wife in every sense…It was a special moment. It felt sacred, like it was always meant to be that way.
But the morning after?
I glance at the horizon, the tide starting to pull back as the memory wraps around my heart, squeezing the air out of me. I woke up with my head resting on his chest, his heart beating against my ear as the soft sunlight filtered through the curtains. The warmth of his body next to me, his deep and steady breathing…he looked content with his dark hair disheveled, asleep.
And then reality set in—harsh and unrelenting.
What had I done?
How could something so beautiful feel so terrifying in the light of day?
I was so sure Durham was the right choice. I prayed through every step, through all the tears and I believed that my degree, my job, my new life was all part of God’s plan for me. Not only that, but I’ve made vows and promises to God about how I’d become a wife one day, about how I’d approach his sacred plan for marriage. I made promises to honor Him, to wait, to cherish the husband he picked for me.
And then I took something so holy and special and made it impulsive.
Reckless.
Stupid.
I pick up a smooth stone from the sand, running my fingers across its cool surface before hurling it into the waves, watching as it disappears beneath the water with a quiet splash.
I married Lucas that night because it’s something I wanted, I desperately wanted him. I was faced with the reality of what it feels like to be separated from him, and I didn’t want that again. I didn’t want to go through that again. So instead of praying, instead of asking God for his guidance, I took matters into my own hands. I didn’t ask God if it was the right time or the right way. I didn’t wait for His voice, instead I went with my own.
And now I’m left with this unbearable guilt.
How do I explain that to Lucas?
How do I apologize for what I’ve taken from him…from us?
Being here in Georgetown now, without him, doesn’t feel right. I know I shouldn’t have left him there, but it was what I needed. A break from the mess that I made. So, I made another selfish decision, without thinking or praying. And yet, instead of finding the clarity I thought I’d get by putting distance between us, I feel like I’m sinking further into the depths of uncertainty.
What if the distance didn’t give me space to think…but room for more doubt?
I watch as the waves continue their path, ebbing and flowing without any interruption. Steady and always present. The rhythm of the waves is a stark contrast to the turmoil inside of me…it’s so serene it’s maddening.
How can I navigate to a point of clarity when nothing inside me feels still?
This week, I’ve found myself watching Lucas’ games—something I’ve never done. I’ve always been too unnerved whenever I see him and the life he’s built without me. But this week, I made sure to excuse myself from dinner on his game nights. In the privacy of my old room, I could stream the Rangers game, my heart caught between longing and relief. Watching him out there—focused, driven, exactly where he belongs—brought me a strange sense of comfort, relieved to see that he is where he should be.
Tonight he has another game in Toronto before he’ll be back in New York.
He’ll be closer. The feeling both terrifies and excites me.
