Page 47 of From Ice to Home
I playfully swat him on the shoulder before he pulls me into his chest. The smell of my mom’s chicken alfredo drifts toward us, reminding us that we’re not alone.
“That really smells delicious,” Lucas says before pulling away. “I wish I could stay, but I have to get back.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask, thinking that maybe I could help with his family somehow. “I could talk to your dad too. And Noah. I’ve seen him at camp, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk or anything.”
He smiles at me. “Stay with your family, Sanders. I’ll deal with my dad.”
He glances over his shoulder toward the yard, but then his gaze shifts back to me, his eyes softening. Memories of the two of us on the porch wrap around me. Late summer evenings when we’d sit on the steps, the cicadas humming, the air thick with the smell of my mom’s hydrangeas and cut grass.
The scent of Lucas, earthy and warm, stirs something deep inside of me. The familiar ache of wanting to be close to him rises like a tide I can’t hold back.
A tide I no longer have to hold back.
“We’re married now,” he says, his eyes dipping to my mouth for a second. “And still it feels like I’m eighteen, needing to say goodbye when I want nothing more than to stay.”
His words send a soft flutter through my chest.
I step closer, sliding my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips. A brief kiss that lingers longer than I intended.
“You have to leave,” I whisper, my fingers brushing the back of his neck as I pull away just enough to speak. “So I can pack.”
“Tomorrow I’m taking you back to New York,” he says. There’s a flicker of joy in his eyes, but it’s mixed with caution. “To a world where there’s constantly eyes on us. Games, schedules, long flights, cameras…it can be difficult if that’s not what you’re used to.”
I know I have no idea what to expect and that I can’t possibly begin to understand the life Lucas has been living forthe past five years. But I know that I want to try with everything inside of me.
“Together,” I whisper, holding on to the promise I’ve made, not just to him but to God. I have no idea what our life will look like, but as long as I have Lucas by my side and lean on the One who brought us back together again, I’m sure I’ll be fine.
“Together,” he echoes, sure and steady.
11
LUCAS
“You live here?” Hannah’s voice is soft, filled with wonder as she peers out the window of my truck. The way her eyes take in every detail—the gravel driveway winding toward the house and the sprawling trees that frame it—makes me see it all differently. The look on her face takes me back to the first time I saw this place and knew I had to buy it.
I haven’t changed much about the property since I’ve lived here. My schedule hardly allows for it. At least I have someone to take care of the garden and basic cleaning and maintenance while I’m not here.
“Yes, this is my house,” I say, looking up at the place I bought a year ago. Most of my teammates thought me insane when I made the move, but I knew it was the right decision, despite me being in my first contract.
We slowly pull into the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath the tyres as I come to slow stop in front of the double door garage. A grin tugs at my lips as Hannah’s eyes widen at the sight of my Westchester home.
“Well, I guess, now it’sourhouse,” I add, wanting to share every part of my life with her.
The early morning flight Harry organized left us both running on adrenaline, coffee, and heartfelt goodbyes from her family. Seeing her expression right now makes every second of the chaotic forty-eight hours we both made through, worth it.
“Luke—“ she starts, shaking her head as her fingers lace tightly together, her knuckles turning white. I reach over, gently untangling her hands and lifting one to my lips.
“We’re married now, Sanders,” I remind her, my voice low and steady. “I want to share all of it with you.”
Her lips part, maybe to argue or to say something about how fast this is all happening, but before she can, I set the truck in park and switch off the engine. Sliding out, I circle around to open her door, because that’s the kind of man my mom raised me to be.
She hesitates before stepping out, her green eyes fixed on the house like she’s still processing. The mix of surprise, awe, and maybe even a little bit of nerves has me reaching for her hand, the fit of her hand perfect in mine.
“Do you like it?” I ask, my chest tightening, hoping for a positive answer from her. “I didn’t want to stay in Manhattan. It’s too busy. Out here it’s quieter and it feels a bit more like home. It’s close to the training facility too, which is great. At first I didn’t want to get something too permanent, since I’ve always thought I’d go back home after I’m done with the NHL. But when I saw this place…” I look at her, wondering what’s going through her mind. “What do you think?”
“You bought this house?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as she takes in the dark stone exterior. The morning light reflects in the giant windows, and the large wooden door is framed by two rose bushes which have been meticulously pruned by the garden services I hired to take care of the yard.
“It’s bigger than what I need, but it was the only house that caught my attention when the realtor showed me around,” I admit. She turns toward me, her green eyes searching mine. “Something about it just screamed ‘family’, even though…I didn’t have plans for that back then.” I pause, the words catching in my throat. “Plans for a family…or this,” I add, gesturing between us, suddenly feeling like I’ve stumbled into a minefield. I clear my throat, knowing that honesty is always the thing Hannah appreciates most. “But when I walked in, I felt this little nudge, like the Holy Spirit was telling me to buy this place. It didn’t make sense at the time, but now I’m glad I listened.”
