Page 106 of Icebound Hearts

burns through me as I hit decline.

Text after text pops up, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing he says will fix this. I don’t want anything to do with him. The one man I ever loved forgot about me tonight. And I’m done.

I turn off my phone and hand it to Alina. I don’t have to say anything. She understands, and I’m grateful beyond words to have her in my life. Alina is hurting too. But she’s still here for me.

She’s always there for me.

I change into the pyjamas she gives me and slide into the right side of her bed. A few minutes later, she joins me with a sigh.

“I don’t know why he didn’t show up,” she murmurs. “But I know Aiden loves you, Kat. He’s crazy about you.” I shake my head, shutting my eyes tightly.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Ali. I almost ruined my future for a guy. For a guy who couldn’t even be here for me.” My voice wavers, but I force myself to finish. “I’m never doing that again.” Alina gulps, watching me. “I know you don’t mean that. You’re hurt because you love him.” I stare at the ceiling, forcing back the tears.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I whisper. Because figure skating is my life.

And Aiden is not part of it.

Chapter Forty - three

KATERINA

The figure skating house is quiet. It’s the kind of silence that should feel peaceful, should make me feel at home—but it doesn’t. Because no matter how many times I try to tell myself this is where I belong, no matter how much I remind myself that skating is my priority, that I can’t afford distractions—I still feel wrong.

I stare at my phone for the hundredth time, my thumb hovering over Aiden’s name.

I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. I can’t talk to him. I won’t talk to him. I need to clear my head. I need to focus.

So why does it feel like I can’t breathe without him? A soft knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. I already know who it is before I open it.

Alina stands there, arms crossed, one brow arched. “Are we going to talk about it?”

I sigh, stepping aside so she can come in. She closes the door behind her and sits on my bed, watching me carefully. “Kat, you’ve been avoiding him.”

“I’m not—” She glares.

I groan, rubbing my temple. “Fine. I am.”

Alina leans forward. “He’s worried, you know.” I swallow hard. “He’ll be fine.”

She scoffs. “Yeah? And what about you? Because from where I’m sitting, you look miserable.”

I am miserable. But I don’t say that. Instead, I shake my head. “I just need time.”

Alina studies me for a long moment, then exhales. “You’re

scared.”

I stiffen. “No, I’m focused.”

She tilts her head. “Focused on what? Running away? Pushing him away?”

I flinch, but she doesn’t stop. “You think if you avoid him, you’ll suddenly forget what he means to you? That it’ll make everything easier?”

My throat tightens. “Alina—”

“You love him, Kat.” My breath catches. The words sting—not because they’re wrong, but because they’re too right. And I hate it.

“I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t afford to love him.”

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