Page 58 of From Ice to Home
Her gaze softens as she slips her fingers through mine, and for a moment, I just look at our hands, her small one resting in mine.
Closing my eyes, I begin.
“Father, tonight we come to You with gratitude in our hearts. Thank You for bringing us together, thank you for giving us this perfect moment. We ask that You bless this food to our bodies and keep Your hand of protection over us tonight. Amen.”
When I open my eyes, she’s watching me, her expression hard to read. Then she smiles—a small, genuine curve of her lips that makes my chest tighten.
She picks up her fork and takes a bite, and as I watch her, the strangeness of it all hits me like a sledgehammer.
I’m married. To Hannah.
She made us dinner, and we’re sitting at a table, eating it like normal people.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me. “You look funny.”
I can’t help but chuckle at how well she actually knows me.
“Nothing. It’s just…this.”
“Is the spaghetti not cooked?” She takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Granted I had to move mountains to get it here.”
“I’m sure the spaghetti is fine,” I tell her, smirking. “What do you mean by ‘moving mountains?’”
She waves her fork in the air. “Oh, you know. Finding a way to get food in this house to make us dinner. Remember, I have no car or even an inkling as to what the address is. Still, I’d say I did pretty well.”
I’m about to say something, but she cuts me off.
“Wait. Are you even allowed to eat spaghetti?” she asks, her eyes widening as she looks me over, like she’s looking for signs of imminent disaster.
“Calm down, Sanders. It’s not technically on the menu, but I won’t spontaneously combust from having a bowl of pasta.” I pause, just to mess with her. “It might slow me down tomorrow, though, costing us the game, getting my contract cut, and having my sponsors withdraw their support. Nothing major.”
Her jaw drops. “Luke!”
“I’m messing with you,” I say, laughing. “Pasta is a big menu item for players. You did good, wife.”
She shakes her head, muttering something under her breath, but I catch the smallest hint of a smile.
“It’s not funny,” she says finally, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Not even a little,” I ask, tilting my head, the teasing tone back in my voice.
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she takes another bite, and I watch her, feeling the overwhelming urge to kiss her.
“So,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “You were talking about moving mountains to feed your new husband?” I ask, taking a bite of the delicious meal, thankful that she did just that. “What happened?”
She shrugs, twirling her fork in the spaghetti. “I wanted to go out and get something to cook for dinner, and maybe a few things to bake something for the guys when I meet them tomorrow.” She pauses, taking a bite of her dinner and holding a finger up until she’s done chewing. “You know, since you have nothing but chips and protein bars in your pantry.”
I wince. “Noted.”
She grins. “But I found myself stranded,” she says with a glint of sadness in her eyes. “I miss my little blue car.”
I frown, guilt tugging at me. “I didn’t even think of that, I’m so sorry.” I straighten up, already thinking through solutions. “I could make a few calls tomorrow and have it sorted by the end of the day. I’ll get you a car.”
She frowns at me.
“What? Is there something else you need?” I ask, looking around the house, silently kicking myself for not thinking about what she might need when I’m off at the rink.
“A key. I’ll have to get you a key made.”
