Page 46 of From Ice to Home
“Hey Sanders,” he says with a relieved sigh as he takes mein. His dark eyes narrow as he takes in the worry on my face. “Everything alright?”
“Essie,” I say, pointing over my shoulder. “She’s not taking it so well. Well, no, that’s an understatement. I’ve never seen her this angry.”
“I’m going to finish dinner,” my mom interjects on her way back to the kitchen. “Lucas, you’re more than welcome to stay and eat with us.”
“Thanks Mrs. Sanders,” he calls after her with a genuine smile on his face, before looking back at me. “I’m seriously tempted, your mom’s cooking is delicious and I can’t remember when last I had a home-cooked meal.”
I reach for his hand and tug him further into the house, the warmth of his presence grounding me.
“Then stay,” I urge, a smile tugging at my lips. The thought of sharing a meal with him, here in my family home, feels surprisingly normal in the midst of all the chaos. “She’s your mother-in-law now, you know, so you definitely have the benefit.”
He chuckles deeply, the sound stirring something in my chest. “She congratulated me when she answered the door. Said I should call her Mom…or Kate. Your dad beat her to it though. I kind of stumbled over his name,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But at least I gave it a shot.”
I glance over my shoulder toward the kitchen, shaking my head fondly. Both my parents had already told Lucas to call them Mom and Dad, as if they’d been waiting for this moment for years. “Those two…”
“And you thought they wouldn’t think this was good news,” he teases, his eyes glinting with humor.
I let out a soft sigh, feeling like a weight has lifted off my shoulders. Relief and gratitude bubble up about how all of this went in the end...it could’ve gone so much worse.
“What about your dad?” I ask, hesitantly.
The humor drains from his face as he drags his hand across his jaw. “My old man isn’t too happy. That’s why I think I should maybe skip dinner and head back. I need to try to smooth things over a little more. Plus, I don’t want to leave Noah to clean up the mess. He’s already had more than his fair share.”
My heart aches thinking about Lucas’s family, who’s my family now, too. They’ve been through so much since his mom passed away in high school and now, somehow, I’ve managed to make things worse for them. Again.
“Should I come with you?” I ask, knowing that we should be tackling these things together. “I don’t want to make things more difficult than I already have. It didn’t seem like your dad was very happy with me before, so I can only imagine what he thinks of me now,” I say, my voice filled with uncertainty.
Lucas frowns, stepping closer, forcing me to look up and meet his gaze. “What do you mean?” he asks, his voice steady as his dark eyes search mine.
I sigh, shaking my head. “Every time I came home, I somehow always managed to bump into him somewhere—Baxley’s, the grocery store, even the gas station once.” I remember that one time I tried to avoid bumping into Mr. Walker and purposefully chose a different coffee shop only to find him there too. “I guess he kind of blamed me for you leaving after high school.”
Lucas groans, dragging his hands over his face in frustration. “That man…” he lets out.
Without a thought I reach up, gently cupping his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing against the scruff of his beard. The tension is his expression softens slightly as his eyes meet mine.
“Things are a bit messy,” I say softly, despite the knot in my stomach about what we still have to face moving forward. “But we’ll manage.”
Lucas exhales slowly, the warmth of his breath fanning across my skin. “There’s more.”
“More?” I echo, dropping my hands and taking a step back.
He nods, his expression growing serious. “I have to go back to New York tomorrow morning. I have practice and the rest of the series. We have a good chance to win the Cup this year. My manager also wants a statement from us for the press…about our marriage.”
The enormity of it all is threatening to smother the spark of confidence I just had a hold on. “Lucas…”
“We can take the time to go through it now, if you want. He sent me a few options. Or,” he pauses, searching my face. “You could come with me tomorrow.”
The thought of leaving with him makes my heart race, equal parts excitement and fear swirling around inside me. I study his expression, trying to gauge whether that’s what he truly wants.
“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course,” he replies without hesitation.
I look up at him, hoping, praying that he really means it. This morning, we made the decision to try—to really give this marriage a chance. But I know myself too well. If I tell him I’m staying here, to fulfill my commitment to my dad, to give him the space he needs to practice…it’ll feel like running again. And that is the last thing I want to do.
“How else are we going to make this work, right?” I ask, keeping my gaze fixed on the warmth of his dark eyes. “We made a commitment.”
“Right,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I remember something like that.”
