Page 52 of From Ice to Home
This house is absolutely beautiful. My hands tremble as I trace the edge of the staircase, disbelief tightening in my chest. It’s more than I ever pictured.
Bigger. Quieter. More permanent.
God, You’ve always given me exactly what I needed, even when I didn’t understand it at the time. So why am I standing in this wonderful place, wondering if I even deserve it?
Compared to my tiny apartment in Durham, this place feels like another world. I never needed much. Just a desk, a bed, a quiet place to breathe between classes and shifts. But this place…it’s what you need when your husband plays for the NHL. Or maybe it’s what he needs. And I’m just the woman who landed in the middle of it all.
Father, how did my life change so suddenly? So drastically?
And what if this wasn’t a gift, but a test? What if I misunderstood Your plan? If this was Your plan all along, please help me see it. Help me accept it. Help me believe this might be grace, even if it started in an act of disobedience.
I walk room by room, letting myself imagine what could be. A dinner with his teammates on the patio. My textbooks spread across the kitchen island. Our families spending holidays with us. Our things in a house we’re going to make into a home.
Tucked into a small corner of the house, I find a small room with light yellow walls and the softest carpet ever I’ve felt beneath my feet. The bay windows call to me. Opening them, the fresh summer breeze blows in along with the lush and green view of Westchester.
For the first time since arriving, a sense of peace fills me.
Thank you, Father. Even if I don’t know what I’m doing, I know You’re here.
The sound of my phone buzzing pulls me from the moment. I glance down and see a text from Lucas.
Don’t freak out. Just breathe.
My stomach twists as I notice the link attached. I tap it, and the team’s social media page opens to a bold headline:
‘Lucas Walker: First Ranger to tie the Knot!’
An action shot of Lucas fills the screen. He’s in the zone, dark eyes focused on the puck, his jaw tight with determination. I can almost feel the energy of the game radiating through the photo. A smile tugs at my lips, pride blooming in my chest.
But as I scroll down, reading the article, my smile falters. It’s short and leaves you with more questions when you’re done reading it. The PR team wanted a statement from us, but it’s not mentioned anywhere. We decided on something short andto the point, something that left no room for confusion or assumption. We didn’t want to say anything that would make people think we had a quickie wedding in Vegas—knowing how easy it would be for people to get the wrong idea about our relationship. And yet, this article leans hard into the ‘romantic whirlwind’ angle, leaving so much unsaid that there definitely will be rumors.
The frown between my brows deepens as I scroll down to the comment section. Most of them are positive and others even congratulate us. But there are a few that leave a cold pit settling in my stomach.
‘Guess it’s official…but it won’t last.’
‘She must’ve trapped him somehow.’
‘Puckbunny with a ring.’
How can people be so cruel when they don’t even know me? Before I can torture myself even more by reading a thread of nasty comments, my phone rings in my hand.
“So this is how we find out?” Liz says instead of hello. “That’s not very Southern of you, Hannah. At all. I feel like I should be revoking best friend rights.”
“I know, I know.” I slump down against the wall, the fluffy carpet cushioning me as my heart sinks thinking of how I didn’t include my best friends in one of the biggest moments in my life. “The past two days have been insane. If I had a second to call and have this conversation, I would’ve.”
Liz is quiet on the other end of the line, and the silence stretches uncomfortably. Now I know I’ve really hurt her feelings by hiding this from her. No matter our differences, Liz and Mona have been my family for the past five years.
“I’m so sorry, Liz,” I add, hoping she hears the sincerity in my voice. “I still haven’t really processed what happened. Please know this is not how I wanted you to find out.”
Mona shouts from somewhere in the background, “Only way to make it up to us is by getting us tickets!”
A reluctant laugh escapes me. “Tickets to what?”
“The games of course,” she calls out. There’s muffled shuffling on the other side of the phone before Mona’s voice cuts in, clear as day. “And we want locker room passes.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing,” I say, smiling despite myself. Leave it to Mona to keep things light-hearted.
“Well, itshouldbe a thing,” she says, her voice serious enough to make me laugh again.
