Page 79 of From Ice to Home
“You’re not asking me to.” I smile at him, loving the words that are coming out of his mouth. “Lucas, that’s what it means to be married to someone. That’s what I said yes to the moment we decided to get married. That all else will change and that you and I will remain. There are jobs everywhere, in every city in the world, but there’s only one Lucas Walker. Only one man I gave my heart to.”
He leans closer, brushing his nose against my cheek as he places soft kisses along my jaw, my neck, my ear. Love and contentment rushes through me, the feeling of being home settling deep into my bones as he pulls me close.
“I want to dance with my wife,” he whispers in my ear, his breath soft against my skin, leaving a trail of fire along my skin.
I don’t need to think about Durham anymore. The past five years have been…challenging and exciting. Setting goals and reaching them on my own gave me a sense of independence that I’ve longed for for as long as I can remember.
But as Lucas is leading me onto the dancefloor, his warm hands on my waist, pulling me close to him, moving with me along to the music, I’m more content than I ever was.
This is where I belong. No job title, or university degree could ever make me as happy as spending my life with the man I love, with the man I know God made for me.
18
LUCAS
Leaving Hannah this morning was brutal.
I’ve never hesitated to leave home for an away game before. Waking up in the early hours of the morning, meeting the team, the rush of getting to the airport, the routine of it all has always been part of the job.
But today, for the first time, I didn’t want to leave my bed or the woman curled into my side. Her legs were tangled with mine and when I breathed her in, she smelled like home. Not to mention the small moan of protest when I finally got up, it nearly undid me. For the first time in my career, I wanted to stay.
Which in itself is absolute madness. We’re heading to the final round in the Stanley Cup Finals—no NHL player in their right mind would consider, for even a millisecond, not to show up for their team in a time like this.
After we landed in Vancouver, I sent her a quick message to let her know we’re safe. But then I got pulled into team meetings, then practice, followed by more meetings with our different coaches. By the time I finally had a free minute to call, she didn’t pick up. And now there’s a missed call from her.
I hate that she’s not here with me. Everything between us feels both fragile and unbreakable at the same time. Like it could all fall apart or become the strongest thing in my life. Right now, I’m not sure which way it’s going to go…despite what I may be hoping for.
And that’s the problem. I don’t know.
The pressure is suffocating. It’s always been intense, but this…this is different. This is pressure from all sides for the first time in my life. Usually I’ve had hockey to think about, and not much else. And now, I have a wife and her happiness to consider in everything I do. I’m being pulled in two directions, and no matter what I do, someone loses.
If I give everything to my team, if I lock in, play harder than I ever have, then maybe we’ll win the Cup. But that means less time with Hannah. Less time proving to her that I’m the kind of husband she deserves. A husband who isn’t only present during the off-season.
But if I put her first, if I start focusing more on my marriage than my game…then I won’t be the player my team needs. I won’t be the player I expect myself to be.
I have to figure out how to be both, equally. Because I don’t know if I can live with either failure.
The weight of expectation is heavy for everyone right now. The coaches, the guys, Harry—all of them have this look in their eyes.
This is it. This is our year.
We’re running on adrenaline, on instinct, on sheer willpower at this point. Some guys are playing through injuries that might take them out for a while after the finals are over. But they’re dedicated. Determined. The Stanley Cup is the hardest trophy in sports to win, and every man in that locker room is willing to bleed for it.
I should be, too.
I shouldn’t be thinking about staying at home with Hannahfor an extra day. Or be preoccupied by finding a way for her to join me in Vancouver. This nagging worry that everything seems alright between us, but maybe it isn’t, shouldn’t take up this much of my headspace.
But it is.
Because when I think about Hannah, about everything we’ve been through, it doesn’t feel random. Vegas, the wedding, the fallout with family—it wasn’t just some accident. God knew. He saw it before it ever happened. And I believe that with every fiber in my being. I do.
So why do I feel like I’m failing some test I don’t even understand?
I look down at the ink on my forearm.
Proverbs 3:5 — Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.
I want to trust. But what if I’m not even asking the right questions? What if I’m standing in the middle of something God is trying to teach me, and I’m too blind to see what it is?
