Page 94 of From Ice to Home
It’s like I can breathe again for the first time in a week. We have three days off before we play our next game. Three days to rest, to reset, and to get ourselves geared for when we face the Canucks again.
I haven’t been gone for more than six days, and yet it feels like I’ve stepped into a different home than the one I left.
“You’ve settled in,” I say, taking in the living room and the changes she’s made.
Now, there’s a coffee table in the middle of it, soft pillows on the couches, and a plant sitting in the corner by the window. But what draws my attention is the wall behind the TV. It’s now a dark navy blue. It looks like something out of a magazine, but it’s better because she did it. The TV is still mounted in the middle of it, but now it’s framed on either side by carefully arranged photo frames, Scripture verses, and a rustic clock ticking away into the quiet.
It’s a far cry from the empty room I used to sit in when watching game tapes and eating pizza from the box.
“I love it, Sanders,” I say, drawn to the display.
My eyes scan over the display. Hannah somehow got a hold of the photo where I scored my first NHL goal. Stick raised, eyes focused, puck flying toward the net…the perfect action shot. Alongside it, there’s a photo of the two of us from our last summer at Camp Grace. We’re still kids in that photo. Side by side, barefoot in the sand, our eyes are locked on one another, unaware of someone taking our picture.
This wall tells a story, our story.
“I hope it’s not too much. When I got started, I couldn’t stop.” She comes to stand next to me, and I pull her into my side. She points to the photo of the two of us sitting on the beach. “Do you remember that? I think one of the counselors took it the last day at Camp.”
I remember that moment. That night I told her I loved her. We sat on the beach and talked about our dreams, our plans, our hopes for the future. At the time, I didn’t know how real any of it would become. I only knew that I loved her, and that I wanted her to be with me no matter which of my dreams came true.
Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my chest.
“Hannah,” I say, her name thick in my throat. “I love you.”
She stills for a moment, her green eyes wide and soft, shining with emotion.
“I don’t think I’ve said that since we said ‘I do’,” I add, my voice softer. “But I’ve felt it every single day we were apart. I never stopped loving you, even when you walked away from me five years ago.”
Her green eyes light up, a small, tender smile tugs at her full mouth. “I’ve never doubted that, Lucas. Not once.”
Hearing her say that eases something inside of me. I want her to know how much I love her, how much I care about her. I never want her to feel unloved. Not even for a second.
“I love you too,” she says, placing her hand over my heart. “Do you know that?”
Her question is laced with vulnerability, and I don’t like that she thinks that I might doubt her love.
“I’ve always known that,” I say after searching my heart for the truth.
We have been through a lot, but thinking about it now, I’ve never believed she didn’t love me. I just thought it wasn’t enough.
I take her hand in mine and press a kiss against her knuckles. My gaze flickers to her hand, just briefly, and the knot in my chest tightens again. Her hand is still bare.
“What I don’t know,” I say quietly, “is why you haven’t been wearing your wedding ring.”
Her gaze follows mine, and she swallows.
“Lucas,” she says, her voice soft and careful. “All I can do is tell you the truth.”
I don’t let go of her hand when she takes a small step backward. I won’t ever let her go, no matter what happens.
“I love you. I want to be your wife. I want to do this right. I want to be everything you need. I don’t want to fail.” Her voice trembles, but she presses through. “Those are the things I know with certainty.”
“What I don’t know,” she whispers, “is why I can’t bring myself to put the ring on my finger.”
With that, she turns away from me. Not with finality, not in rejection, but filling the space between us with the weight of everything she’s still working through. I take a second, filing away the truth she just gave me. None of those things were words of rejections. If anything, it shows how much she wants this, how much she wants to make this work. It eases some of the tension about her not wearing her ring.
But not all of it.
Because something is still missing for Hannah.
