Page 60 of From Ice to Home
“Sanders, where else do you want to sleep?” I ask her, my voice dipping lower as I try to keep the frustration out of it.
I know I should probably give her the option of staying in one of the guestrooms, but the fact that this is even a conversation feels like a blow I wasn’t expecting.
Her cheeks flush and her voice softens.
“We’ve never done this before. We’ve never shared a house, a room, a bed,” she says, her vulnerability breaking through the fire. “And we didn’t prepare for any of this. I just came bursting into your life and now everything has to change, for both of us.”
This is a lot. For her and for me. I guess I had the entire day at hockey practice to keep my mind off the fact that we’d gone from zero to a hundred in two seconds. She didn’t have that luxury. She’s been here, faced with everything we still need to figure out.
“I know this isn’t exactly the most conventional way of doing things,” I say, reaching across the counter, letting myhand cover hers. My thumb brushes her knuckles gently, trying to ground both of us. The sight of her empty left hand is not lost on me…she’s not wearing her wedding ring. Mine is constantly burning against my chest and I have no idea where hers is.
Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to sleep in the same room as me.
Does she even want this?
The thought catches me off guard, a sharp pang of doubt twisting in my chest. I’ve spent every waking moment since we said ‘I do’, convincing myself that the impulsive decision we made was the right one, that God has a plan for us. But now, looking at her, I don’t know how I can make her see that too.
God, please help me. Guide my words and help her to understand, to really hear what I’m trying to say.
“This whole thing…it's all very new.” I take a deep breath and set down my fork. “I get that this place feels like it doesn’t belong to you, yet. But you have to remember that you’ve been here for one day.”
Pushing back my chair, I stand and walk around the kitchen island. Her green eyes track my every move, wide and searching, like she’s looking for something to hold onto. I kneel in front of her, close enough that the warmth of her presence settles over me.
“It’s going to take time for us to make this place ours,” I say, my voice steady. “We can go to Durham and get your things, or hire movers or whatever you’re comfortable with. Whatever you need for this to feel like it’s your home too—we can do it. Whether that includes us painting walls or buying furniture, or planting a garden out back…we’ll do it all if that’s what you want. I want you to tell me about the ideas you have, how you want to change the rooms in this house.”
I sigh and place my hands on her knees, the need to connect to her in some way burning through me.
“Sanders, you’ve already made this place come alive and all you’ve done is make spaghetti.”
She smiles faintly. The uncertainty in her eyes easing slightly as she reaches out to take my hands, threading her fingers through mine. I take another deep breath, the words weighing on my chest as I try to get them right.
“As for the sleeping arrangements…” I hesitate just long enough for her to meet my gaze. “If you’re asking me where I want you to sleep…my answer will always be with me,” I say softly, my voice firm and gentle. “But in that I’m not saying we should dive into the deep end with our physical relationship, if that’s not what you want.”
Right now, I’m trying my hardest not to dwell too much on the whole wedding ring thing, and what it might or might not mean. I just want her towantto stay.
We can figure out the rest from there.
Her lips part slightly, her expression shifting in a way that sends a flicker of hope through me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Hoping my rambling has made the situation better, that it’s making her feel better about all her concerns.
“We need to be a little patient right now. We rushed into all of this, but now we have to slow down. We’re doing this one step at a time,” I say, brushing my thumb over her fingers.
She visibly relaxes, a small smile spreading on her lips as she looks at me. “I like that. We’ll just take it slow.”
Before I can respond, she lifts my hands, guiding me to stand in front of her. Towering over her, I watch as she wraps her arms around my waist, her embrace warm as she rests her chin against my stomach, watching me intently.
“I want you to know that I’ve always felt safe with you, Lucas,” she murmurs, her gaze not leaving mine for a second. Her arms tighten around me, as if she’s anchoring herself in the moment. “And I want to sleep next to you…every single night.”
My breath hitches, her words striking something deep in me. I rest my hands on her back, holding her close and press my lips to the top of her head. “It’ll all work out, Sanders. As long as we do this together.”
I usually sleepin shorts since I have a tendency to run hot. But tonight is the first night I’m sharing a bed with Hannah and I want her to be comfortable. So instead, I’m wearing sweats and a t-shirt.
Lying here now, my legs feel extra heavy beneath the added weight of the bedcover and it feels like I might not make it through the night. At least the bed is king size. That leaves plenty of space between us, but the idea of her lying just a few feet away makes the space feel smaller somehow.
And so much warmer.
I kick off my part of the bedcover, slight relief washing over me now that my feet aren’t covered anymore.
We came to bed almost thirty minutes ago—with minimal eye contact and even fewer words. And the room has been quiet ever since. The kind of quiet that’s filled with shallow breathing and unspoken thoughts. I haven’t moved an inch—haven’t even closed my eyes—and I’m now a lot more familiar with the patterns on the ceiling than I was before. My body is hyper aware of the fact that, if I shift just slightly to the right, I’ll touch her.
