Page 63 of From Ice to Home
Lucas continues to lead me down the corridor, his grip warm and sure before we enter a door leading to one of the practice rinks.
“It’s just a morning skating session. The more intense prep is after that,” he reassures me. “Besides, it’s just a quick meet and greet. The real get together will be tonight after the game. I don’t want you to be alone the entire day and then you have to meet a bunch of strangers tonight.”
I squeeze his hand, touched by his thoughtfulness. I take a deep breath as we move closer to the ice, the chill in the air keeping me cool. The sound of a few players skating across the ice echoes through the room, and my heart is pounding taking it all in.
“Come on, Petrov, keep up!” Someone shouts.
I catch a player speeding past another who is covered in layers of padding. Unmistakably the goalie of the Rangers. Nikolai Petrov.
Goalies always seem a little different. This week, when I watched the games, I noticed his intense focus and his intimidating frame, especially after the game when everyone would tap his helmet as a sign of respect.
Lucas glances at the guys skating as we move closer to theglass. A few players are still on the bench, lacing up their skates and taking quick sips of water. Luckily, Lucas isn’t late…but in a few minutes he definitely will be. I open my mouth to suggest we do this after the game instead, but before I can get the words out, a sharp whistle cuts through the air.
“Woa, guys. Look who’s in the house!” Number 23, the defenseman I’ve noticed who likes to draw penalties, calls loudly with a grin on his face. “Mr and Mrs Lucas Walker! The first official Ranger wife!”
His words hit me square in the chest.First official Ranger wife.
I was hoping that there’d be at least a few wives who could show me the ropes on how to deal with everything this life entails. It would help to have someone relay the unspoken rules of the game, the crazy hours, flight, hotels, fans... Just thinking about it brings a tightness to my stomach.
Guess, that’s not an option anymore. I’ll have to learn first hand.
“I’m the first?” I whisper-shriek, turning to Lucas in disbelief.
He glances down at me, amusement flickering in his eyes before he presses a quick kiss to my hair. The sound of cheers and howls erupts around us, echoing through the arena.
“You sure are, Mrs. Walker,” he says, tucking me beneath his arm, and I can’t help but melt into his side. I’m not going to let this get to me. I know I belong by his side.
I playfully shove his chest, loving the way it sounds.
Mrs Walker.
His teammates skate around the ice, tapping their sticks against the glass panel in front of us. Even the goalie, who looks like the most intimidating person in the world the closer he gets, slowly moves out from the crease toward us. I know he has to wear more padding, but he’s also taller than everyone else on the ice. It looks like he barely needs to move to keep thepuck out of the net. He lifts his helmet slightly before giving Lucas a small nod and tapping his stick against the board too.
Lucas leans in. “That’s Nikolai. His bark is bigger than his bite.”
“I’m not so sure,” I toss back, eyeing the giant wearily. “He looks like he could do a lot worse than bite.”
Lucas laughs when the guy wearing the number 86 skates toward us before stepping onto the rubber mat. He lifts his visor and I recognise his friendly face, not only from Vegas, but from watching Lucas’s games this past week.
He gives me a smile. “Hannah,” he greets. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“You remember EJ right?” Lucas asks, his hand on my lower back. “He’s my wingman.”
I shift the brownies to my other hand, extending the free one. “You’re the one who makes sure he gets the puck. ”
“That’s me,” he says with a smile, drawing attention to the scar above his eye as he quirks an eyebrow. “Without me, Lucas wouldn’t make it.”
“Ah, keep telling yourself that, man,” Lucas says. “You know I’m the star of the line.”
“So modest. So humble,” EJ says looking over his shoulder to the other arrival. “Speaking of humble…”
Number 23,Murphy, hops onto the rubber with a smirk.
“So you haven’t decided to run again?” he asks. I’m sure he’s going for playful teasing, but the comment stings all the same.
“Not this time no,” I say, attempting a smile. Looking up to Lucas, I don’t miss the frown between his eyes. “I’ve been told that he can’t run fast enough to catch me, so I’m staying put.”
I put out my hand to him, and he shakes it. “South really got himself a perfect little Southern Belle, didn’t he?” he says with a wink, his eyes dipping to the brownies in my hand. “And you even baked treats for me.”
