Page 90 of From Ice to Home
I don’t say anything. But his words land harder than Coach’s did.
Because I know exactly what he’s talking about.
21
HANNAH
The Rangers lost last night.
I waited for Lucas to call me after the game, but the silence stretched long into the night. When I finally tried calling him, it went straight to voicemail. Just before midnight, a pair of texts lit up my screen, only slightly easing my worries.
I’m fine. Back at hotel. Need some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Sleep tight, Sanders. I miss you
I stared at the words longer than I should have. They were simple, they were honest, they were him. He’s hurting, I know he is. It breaks my heart to know that he’s going through something and I’m not able to be there for him. At least not in the way I want to be. When we’re apart, I can only support him over the phone. But only if he lets me in.
Lucas has another game tomorrow night and only then will he come home.
This morning my mom called as soon as the sun came up.She knew something was wrong, but didn’t want to call last night. Turns out my whole family watched the game night, determined to support Lucas in any way they can. I didn’t mention the media or the article, instead I tried to ease her worries and promised her that I’d try to get all of them tickets to the final game. She saw right through it, as always, and offered prayers for the both of us.
I set my phone on the kitchen counter, heading to the laundry room with my arms full. I send a silent thank you to Liz and Mona who brought more of my clothes back with them. I’m sure as soon as the playoffs are over, we’ll make a trip to Durham to pack the rest of my things and sort out the lease on my apartment.
The phone vibrates on the counter.
Dropping the laundry basket, I rush over, hoping it’s Lucas.
Frowning at the screen, I watch the unknown number flash across it. It might be Lucas calling from another phone…or it might be someone trying to sell me a timeshare in the middle of nowhere.
“Hello?” I answer, my finger hovering on the red button just in case.
“Hannah?” A man’s voice comes through the phone. Gruff. Stern. “This is Harry Matlock.”
I blink, caught off guard.
“Uh, good morning,” I say, unable to keep the shock and disbelief from my voice. “Is everything alright? Is Lucas okay?”
My mind spirals immediately, because why else would the General Manager of the New York Rangers be calling me this early in the morning.
“That depends on how you look at it.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, gripping the phone so hard, my hand hurts. “Did something happen?”
“Physically, he’s fine,” Harry says and I sigh with relief. “But that’s not enough.”
“You nearly gave me a heart attack.” I breathe out, leaning against the counter with my hand on my chest.
Turning around, I get the coffee machine started. If I’m going to have a conversation with Harry, I’m going to need caffeine to get me through it.
“Good, because this isthatserious,” he replies coolly. “I don’t make a habit of calling the women my players see. But since you’re the firstwife, and one that popped up mid-playoffs, I’m obviously making an exception.”
He says the word ‘wife’ like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
“What can I do for you, Harry?” I ask, figuring it’s best to just keep my side clean. Whatever issues the GM has, it’s clearly not with me personally. “I’m guessing this is important.”
“You know about the article, I assume,” he says, matter-of-factly. “I invite PR coverage, always have. It drives ticket sales and keeps the fanbase happy. But this? This kind of press hurts us. And I don’t like it when my players’ personal lives bleed into the game. Especially when there’s a Cup on the line.”
I take a deep breath and ready myself for the conversation ahead. The article was obviously designed to sting, and by suggesting we’re already having trouble in our marriage, it did just that. I haven’t even properly discussed this with Lucas and already his GM is calling me before seven in the morning.
