Page 29 of From Ice to Home
I’m not sure that’s true anymore.
Not after the way I’ve let him down, or how I let my mom down. Her memory clings to this place, to every corner of this porch. Being here just makes it harder—a constant reminder that I chose New York over this life, over sticking with my dad and Noah. I know she wanted me to follow my dreams, but she also wanted Dad and I to get along.
I make the time to come home in the off season, but all that does these days is remind me that I’m not pulling my weight when it comes to the family business. Noah has taken up my role with ease and even though he’s better at the job than I ever was when I was his age, he shouldn’t have to carry that responsibility. My dad might never say it outright, but I know he’s still waiting for me to step up and take my place. I’m not sure he’ll ever let that go.
“That’s great, Dad.” I struggle to keep the irritation from my voice but I keep his gaze. We look so much alike—the same sharp edges and dark eyes, but where I’ve got my mom’s softer smile, he’s all grit. Noah, with his lighter hair and easygoing demeanor, takes after her more. Sometimes I think that’s why I clash so much with my dad—we’re too much alike, cut from the same cloth.
“Your brother is out in the east cornfield, the John Deer is acting up again,” Dad says, stepping aside to let me pass. The sharp smell of his favorite tobacco trails after him as we enter the house.
“I was about to go down when the phone rang,” he says, his voice clipped with a hint of irritation.
The wooden floorboards groan beneath my boots as I step inside. Taking my cap off, I hang it on the banister before running my hand through my hair. My eyes dart toward the staircase which leads to my old bedroom, and the hot shower that has my name written on it.
“I’d like to take a shower first,” I say, my voice measured. “Then I’ll go help Noah. I have to be on the road again early tomorrow morning.”
Dad doesn’t budge. Instead he gestures toward the kitchen. “Don’t you think we should talk about why you’re here? There’s coffee and breakfast.”
Coffee doesn’t sound half bad right now, but I can do without the confrontation that will undoubtedly go with it.
I shift on my feet, giving a half-hearted shrug. “There’s not much to say.”
Dad steps into my view, cutting off my escape route to the stairs.
“That’s obviously a lie, Lucas. You’re here before the sun is even up, in the middle of the playoffs no less. I saw you on TV a few hours ago and now you’re standing here in my hallway. Pastor Mark didn’t sound too eager to relay the news that my son thought it wise to show up at his house unannounced, leaving his daughter in tears.”
He actually watched my game?
Hannah’s in tears?
I didn’t think he ever watches my games because he sure hasn’t done that live. The fact that he watches me play takes a backseat, and instead I focus on Hannah’s reaction to our conversation. Thinking about her being in tears cuts deeper than I expect, especially after the way she reacted to seeing me. My grip tightens on the strap of my duffel, the ache in my chest spreading. The image of her crying, of her hurting, unsettles something deep inside of me.
Shaking my head, I refuse to take the bait. Without anotherlook at him, I head upstairs. “It’s not what you think, Dad,” I say over my shoulder.
“What’s going on? I thought you and the girl were through? Is that not why you decided to leave me short-handed? Because you couldn’t stand to stay home when she decided to kick you to the curb?”
I stop halfway up the stairs, his words hitting a nerve. If Hannah wanted to stay in Georgetown, then I probably would’ve stayed with her. But back then I also knew that going to New York was the only way I would’ve been able to see if I had something more in me, if I had what it takes in hockey. At the end of the day, it was my own decision. Turning slowly, I grip the railing, leveling my gaze at him.
“You think I left because of Hannah?” My voice is sharper than I intended, but with everything I’ve had to go through these past twenty-four hours, I’m at my limit. “That’s not fair, Dad. I left because it was my shot, a once in a life-time shot, to do something with my life. You think I wanted to leave everything behind? You think it was easy walking away from her? From you and Noah?”
Dad doesn’t flinch, instead he straightens, still standing as tall as me.
“You didn’t just walk away from us, Lucas. You walked away from responsibilities. This family and the business we’ve built over generations. Noah had to step up because you weren’t here. And now you’re once again dragging the girl into whatever this is—“
“I didn’t drag her into anything!” I snap, louder this time. “Hannah made her choices just like I made mine. I did what was right for me.”
For a moment, silence hangs between us. The weight of his words, and mine, settle like a storm brewing just out of reach. I made a decision five years ago, the NHL and the life that comes with being a New York Ranger. But that doesn’t mean I don’twant this life too. I love this farm and the business, I love Georgetown and my family.
Why does it have to be a choice? Why does it have to be one or the other?
Dad shakes his head, his voice lowering but not softening in the least.
“Whatever happened between you two…you’re not in high school anymore, Lucas. You have to decide what kind of man you want to be. You can’t just run from the choices you made. You have a team who’s depending on you to be there. And now you’re here.” He lifts his gaze to me, his eyes hard. “It looks like you’re running in circles.”
I swallow hard, unable to argue. He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t make any of this easier. Now, with my marriage to Hannah, I’m not only faced with two different lives to choose from…but three.
“I get it,” I reply, my voice tight and tired as I turn away from him. “I’ll sort it out.”
My boots creak against the floorboards as I force myself to keep moving. I can feel my dad’s eyes on me as I climb, but I don’t look back.
