Page 48 of From Ice to Home
A soft smile plays on her lips, the morning light in her golden hair making her look every bit the angel I’ve always thought she was.
“It really is beautiful,” she says, her brow rising as she steps toward the front door and I can’t help but follow her. “I didn’t really know what I expected, but this wasn’t it.”
A laugh escapes me, wondering what she thought my life looked like. “You thought I’d be sharing some kind of bachelor pad with my teammates?”
She grins, tucking a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. The movement draws my attention to the light blue Duke University sweater she’s wearing, a reminder of the life she’s lived in Durham. I don’t know whether she has roommates expecting her back or not. But I’m sure campus life is different from the life she’s walking into now.
“I could easily see you with gear littered all over your living room, pizza boxes stacked to the ceiling, team mates crashing on futons, sure.” I don’t miss the teasing in her voice.
“Well,” I say, chuckling at her accurate description of at least five of my teammates’ current living situation. “Lucky for you, I traded up a year ago.”
“Lucky me,” she teases, but there’s a softness in her tone that makes my heart skip.
“You bet your sweet hiney, lucky you.” I grin as I guide her toward the front door, my hand resting lightly on the small of her back. The sensation sparks something deep inside of me—a feeling of rightness, of pride that this woman belongs to me now. After missing her for five years she somehow crossed my path and now she’s so permanently fixed into my life, it’s hard to believe.
I fish the keys from my pocket, unlocking the door with a deliberate twist and push it open. But as Hannah takes a step forward, I gently pull her back.
“Not so fast,” I say, a grin tugging at my lips. Before she can protest, I scoop her up into my arms, holding her close to my chest.
“Luke!” she says, laughing and instinctively wrapping her arms around my neck.
“I think this is the way you’re supposed to show your wife her new home.”
Her laughter melts into a joyful smile, her green eyes shining as she looks up at me. The sound, the sight of her in my arms has my chest swelling with warmth. Carrying her across the threshold, I don’t take my eyes off her.
This will be ours now, in every way.
After stepping over the threshold, I gently set her down in the spacious entryway. Her footsteps echo faintly against the polished hardwood floors as she takes a slow step forward, her gaze sweeping across the space.
The entryway opens into a wide living room, the high ceilings and expansive windows making the space feel even bigger.
The house is still mostly empty. I got someone to handle the essentials when I bought the place, but that was it—just enough to make it livable. Since I spend most of my time training, or sleeping in hotels on away games, I didn’t really bother that much.
Now, as I watch her take it all in, her gaze lingering on the sparsely furnished living room with its lone couch and flatscreen TV mounted on the wall, I feel a twinge of regret. Maybe I should’ve put in more effort.
A coffee table wouldn’t have killed me.
“It needs a bit of work,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck, the warmth of embarrassment creeping up my skin. “I don’t really spend a lot of time at home.”
She doesn’t respond immediately, instead wandering through the open living space toward the kitchen. Her hand glides along the cool marble counters of the kitchen island, her touch deliberate, like she’s trying to get a sense of the place. The large, empty counters only boast a sleek coffee machine, and I know the fridge is stocked with nothing but water bottles and pre-made meals from my nutritionist. I’m not even sure I own more than five plates. She wasn’t wrong when she imagined pizza boxes. When the guys come over everyone hunches over the box, leaving no dirty plates to be washed.
I watch her closely, every silent step as her brows knit together. My stomach churns with every quiet second that passes. She’s used to a house that feels alive, that looks like a home. Her family home in Georgetown always felt more like a home to me than my own house did. In comparison, this place is very empty and impersonal.
And it’s very,verygray.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. Harry’s face appears on the screen. I check the time and groan inwardly, realizing that I’m already half an hour late for practice. Right now, I want nothing more than to stay here with her, settle in, and make sure she’s alright but I know I can’t. I can’t afford to miss practice altogether.
I silence the call and watch the screen go dark again. Clearing my throat, I force a lightness into my voice that I don’t feel. “I really wish I was inside your mind right now.”
Her fingers linger on the handle of the fridge before she opens it, taking a peek inside. “Meal prep?” she asks, her green eyes sparking with humor.
“Guilty,” I say, stepping closer and closing the fridge of embarrassment. Unable to resist the magnetic pull toward her, I put my arms around Hannah, pulling her closer to me. “It’s not exactly homey, I know. But it works and it gets the job done.”
“I bet it does,” she teases with a smile. My eyes take in every feature of her standing here, in my kitchen, my arms around her and it feels surreal.
“This feels unreal,” I say, thinking back on how we stood just like this in Vegas. Breathless from kissing on the Strip before we walked into that chapel. “I want to stay here and forget about the rest of the world,” I admit, my voice low and raw, the honesty catching even me off guard. My hands rest lightly on her waist, but the urge to hold her tighter, to anchor myself to her in this moment, is almost overwhelming.
“I know what you mean,” she whispers, her fingers brushing against my chest.
