Page 31 of From Ice to Home
My chest tightens at his words, and before I can formulate a response, he finally looks up, a knowing look settling on his face. “Not that hard to put two and two together.”
His words linger in the air between us, heavy with unspoken truths. Noah had a front row seat to my relationship with Hannah back then. He adored her. They got along like siblings, teasing and laughing like they’d known each other forever. He used to joke that if I didn’t marry her, he would.
I turn the ignition and the engine roars to life with a steady hum. My hands rest on the wheel and for a second, I almost feel like I’ve fixed something. A rare moment of satisfaction.
“So?” Noah presses. “Did I get it right?”
“You always were too smart for your own good,” I grunt, trying to brush him off.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” he replies, his grin a mix of teasing and genuine concern. He leans against the tractor, arms crossed, studying me in that way only a younger brother can. “You know I don’t think I’ve seen you happier than when you were with her.”
The chain around my neck suddenly feels heavier, the ring hanging from it hot against my skin. It’s like he can see right through me, through the things I’ve been trying to hide and ignore.
“So what’s the deal, bro? Are there no women in New York? Because I mean, you’reLucas freaking Walker.” A teasing grin spreads on his face. “I bet you have at least a few to pick from.”
“Oh come on—“ I snap, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere.
“Don’t act like it’s not true,” Noah says with a laugh, whipping me with the rag. “I mean you’re an NHL superstar. There are definitely a few women sliding into your dm’s. Just last night there was a sign in the crowd where someone asked you to marry her. And I won’t even mention the ones that were…less subtle. You could get a wife in no time at all, big brother.”
The irony isn’t lost on me.
Somehow I got a wife within the span of seven hours.
And now she doesn’t want anything to do with me.
“That’s not how I operate, Noh,” I say, sliding out of the seat and killing the engine. My boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, dust swirling up around me.
He grins, clearly enjoying himself.
“Seriously though, you could have anyone you want, Lucas. So tell me what is it about her that has you bailing on the team in the third round of the playoffs?”
Dusting off my hands, I avoid his gaze. “She’s not just anyone to me. She’s…Hannah.”
“I figured as much,” he says, leaning down to rub Hazel behind the ears. “Anybody with a working pair of eyes could see you two belong together.”
Then how come Hannah can’t see it? I don’t want to convince her to be with me. I want her to see who we are when we’re together, who we can be if we actually gave this relationship, this marriage, a chance.
“Enough about my issues.” I grab a few more tools laying around and head to the toolbox to put them away. “How have things been going over here? You said you saw her at camp? I thought you weren’t going anymore.”
Noah stopped attending Camp Grace the year I left home. I always thought that he would eventually go back. But every summer he stayed for dad’s sake. Being alone here isn’t always easy, especially since mom died. Sure, it’s been seven years, but for dad it’s always like it happened yesterday.
“Dad thought it would be a good idea for me to attend this year. I wasn’t going to argue,” he says like it doesn’t matter to him, but I know my little brother.
“But you’re not there today…” I press.
He takes the tools from me, bending down to pack away the tools. Gazing up briefly, he replies, “I was just bringing the tractor out, when it stopped, so I stayed to fix it.”
My chest tightens. Once again, my little brother is sacrificing his time, his passions, his own life for the farm…for the role I should be standing in. After mom died, we all tried to fill the void in our own ways, but Noah carried more than his share of the weight.
“Noh,” I start, hesitating before the words come. “I’m sorry I left you with all of this.” I’ve wanted to say those words so many times. Part of me thought he would know how I felt. Hewould know that I also want to be here. But my life took a turn and I’ve kind of just been following that road ever since.
“Lucas, I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again.” He straightens and places his cap back on his head. “There’s nothing you should be sorry for. I love doing this, I want to be doing this.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, not entirely sure he means it. Yes, he loves being here…but a young man should want to leave home and explore what the world has to offer.
“Of course I’m sure.” He kicks at a piece of dirt, eyes downcast. “Do I wish I could see you more? Sure. I even pray that you could come back and do this with me.”
I swallow hard. Sometimes I pray for the same thing.
