Page 50 of From Ice to Home
I give him a semi-apologetic smile. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You’re late,” he shoots back, clicking off the phone and tucking it into his blazer. “I was about five seconds away from dragging you here by the ankles. This was not the agreement, Walker, and you know it.”
Running my hand through my hair, I try to keep my cool.The last thing I need right now is to get into an argument with Harry before practice.
“I know. I got tied up at home getting Hannah settled, but I’m here now.” The expression on his face doesn’t relent, so I add, “It won’t happen again.”
I step around him, desperate to get on the ice and get back a semblance of normalcy.
“Not so fast.” He steps in front of me, his hand landing on my shoulder to stop me in my tracks.
“I thought you wanted me on the ice,” I say, motioning toward the locker room door just a few feet away. “None of your other players can quite get their slapshots in order, no matter how much they practice. You know I’m the only one who can create the time and space.”
“Funny you should say that,” he says, pulling out his phone from his blazer again. He swipes a few times before holding it up toward me. The screen displays a photo of me mid-game, still in my blue and red gear, lined up for the winning slapshot in our last game. Below it, a bold caption reads: “Lucas Walker: First Ranger to tie the Knot!”
I feel my cheeks heat up slightly. I’ve never really liked seeing photos of myself in the news, but now adding my personal life into the mix…it’s somehow worse.Wayworse.
“Seriously?” I ask, taking the phone from him and scrolling down. “I thought you wanted a statement from us. This is a whole article.” My eyes skim through it, catching words like ‘secretly married’ and ‘sudden commitment’. “What happened to the statement you wanted from me and Hannah? It’s not even in here.”
He smirks, clearly unfazed. “Call it payment for springing this Vegas wife on me mid-playoffs.”
“And I guess for being late,” I mutter, my eyes still glued to the article and the comments that seem to double every time I look again.
“Oh no, for being late I got you and your new wife tickets for a charity gala.”
I stop scrolling and hand him back his phone. “You’re not serious. Harry you know I don’t like to attend those.”
“Well, you do now.” Harry’s smirk deepens. “Face it, Walker, your spotlight just got a bit brighter. And it’s shining on your new wife too. You need to make sure you’re ready for the scrutiny.” He shrugs and I get the distinct feeling he’s somehow enjoying this. “Everyone wants to know about the newly married Ranger and this wife he’s been hiding away.”
I sigh, running my hand over my face, feeling the weight of the added attention. But deep down, I know he’s right. It’s part of the deal, part of the life I’ve chosen. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that this new attention on my personal life is going to take on a whole new shape, since it includes my marriage.
“Her name is Hannah,” I tell him, not liking the way he keeps referring to her as my ‘new wife’, as if she's some kind of novelty. “She’s not some liability or a PR stunt, she’s the woman I married. So, I’ll talk to her and see if she’ll be up for the gala.”
Harry’s eyes remain hard as a chuckle escapes his throat. “Listen kid, if I had the luxury of believing in love, I would. But this is the NHL. There’s only room for ice and duty.”
I have no idea what happened in Harry’s life that he’s become this jaded. All I know is that I can’t allow him to bring his personal beliefs about Hannah’s intentions into my marriage.
I move past Harry, keen to get away from the GM and onto the thing I’m actually good at. “Can I please just get to practice?”
“You better hurry,” Harry says, following me back in the direction of his office. “It doesn’t look good when the alternate captain is late for practice.”
As I reach the locker room door, Harry’s voice reaches me. “Just remember, you’re not just any player, you’re the starcenter of the New York Rangers. Half this country breathes hockey, and your new wife…” he pauses, catching my glare. “Fine,Hannah, is a breath of fresh air. Play their game for a bit and they’ll leave you alone. No sense in fighting the inevitable, Walker.”
Without another word, I walk into the locker room and drop my bag by my cubby. I pull my gear on as quickly as possible, keen to get on the ice and put this conversation behind me.
But before I head out to the rink, I quickly take a second to forward the article to Hannah. I hesitate, staring at the screen, wondering how she’ll react when she reads it. I haven’t read the whole thing, but the comment section is already blowing up, and knowing how ruthless some people can be, there’s bound to be a few nasty comments in the mix. I just hope she’s prepared for it—or at least knows I’ll have her back no matter what.
Tucking my phone into my cubby, I grab my stick and my helmet and head to the rink. The familiar squeak of my skates digging into the rubber brings a sense of normalcy, but as I step onto the ice, the tension from earlier still lingers.
“Nice of you to join us, Walker!” Coach’s voice booms across the ice as I glide onto the rink.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Coach,” I shout back, flashing him a grin.
He snorts, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the clipboard in his hands.
Declan skates past me, a smirk plastered on his face. “Well, it’s about time, South,” he says, his green eyes dancing with humor. “Welcome to the land of the living.”
“I wasn’t even gone that long,” I toss back, skating across the ice and getting my stride. The chill bites at my cheeks and the rhythmic scrape of blades against the frozen surface feels like home.
