Page 23 of From Ice to Home
Micah’s words echo in my mind.“You don’t have to have it all figured out.”
He’s wrong though. I do have to figure it out. I’m Hannah Sanders, the oldest sibling. I’m supposed to have my life together. The responsible one. The example.
But instead…I’m a wreck. I’m failing on all fronts.
Tears start to burn at the back of my eyes, and I press my palms against them, trying to push it all back. The blurry view of the waves stretches in front of me, the coolness of the water lapping over my feet. The salty air stings my throat as the weight of everything I’ve been holding in hits me at once. Stumbling back, I collapse onto the sand, unable to hold myself upright any longer.
It all comes pouring out. Every single doubt, every single lie, every single ounce of regret and self-hatred I’ve been harboring…not just this past week, but for the last five years.
“Father, please,” I sob, the words tearing from my chest. “I don’t know what to do. I have no idea which way to go. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I made promises to You, promises about marriage, about honoring what’s sacred, and I broke them. I broke all of it!”
Tears streak down my cheeks as I try to catch my breath. Ihaven’t been able to pray…not really. And even now, the words feel fractured, like they’re breaking apart before they can reach Heaven. Even my prayers are now broken.
Guilt and pain sear through me. But then comes a small sense of relief, just enough to urge me to continue, to let more spill out. To unburden my soul to my Father, my Maker.
These beaches used to give me peace and clarity. This has always been my quiet place, the place where I can meet Him. But now…it feels empty. Like I’ve left for too long and now I can longer find him. Like a part of Him is lingering here, but not all of Him.
It’s like He can’t hear me and I don’t know what to do.
I lift my eyes to the horizon, the waves still rolling steady and ceaseless. The constancy mocks me. What am I supposed to do when I feel like this—when it feels like I have nowhere to turn to, nowhere to find answers?
It’s like perfection is expected and I have nothing to give. Nothing that will be enough.
Scripture I’ve known by heart since childhood rises to the surface, my lips moving as I mutter them.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”
“Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.”
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end.”
The verses feel hollow, as if spoken into a void. I try again, desperate for some connection…to God, to Lucas.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.”
But we didn’t trust in Him, did we?
We made this mess on our own. I got swept up in what Lucas and I once were, in what I thought we could be one day.How am I supposed to run to Him for forgiveness when I can’t forgive myself for what I’ve done?
Tears stream down my face as I press my forehead into my knees, pulling them up close, needing something to hold onto.
“Father, I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make things right with You, or with Lucas. What if this is too big? What if this is the thing that rips everything apart?”
The thought of feeling this far away from…everything and everyone…it’s unbearable.
The waves continue to crash onto the shore, the scene in front of me as unchanged as the ache in my chest, the guilt that’s weighing heavy on every part of my being. I thought I might find peace here, that I might find clarity and comfort with God, but instead…there’s nothing. Just a reminder that I’m not who I thought I was.
When I finally rise to my feet, there’s no answer. No clarity.
Just the overwhelming certainty that I don’t know what comes next.
6
LUCAS
The early morning light creeps over the horizon, soft hues of gold and peach stretching across the quiet streets and freshly cut lawns. The familiar scent of salt and magnolia drifts through the cracked window, blending with the faint hum of cicadas. Georgetown is just as I remember it. Achingly familiar, yet the tension of what’s to come is undeniably hanging in the air.
The drive from the airport in Charleston felt longer than it actually was. My eyes are still open by God’s grace alone, but I couldn’t take the time to rest after the game. I jumped into the post-game rituals, doing the media and the interviews as Harry suggested, in a bid to keep the press at bay for as long as we have the upper hand. He did everything he could not to raise any red flags, in exchange for 24 hours to figure things out with Hannah before the PR team takes over.
