Page 110 of Icebound Hearts

“But I couldn’t stop watching you.” His breath hitches. “Even when I told myself you were my enemy, I still watched you. Every turn. Every jump. Every stupid little smile you gave when you landed something clean. It drove me insane because I didn’t understand it. I didn’t want to.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out because he’s not done.

“And then you started watching me back.” His voice is softer now but no less intense. “Not with hate. Not even with anger. Just… with this look, like you saw something in me I couldn’t even see myself. And I knew I was screwed.”

My chest tightens.

“I spent so much time trying to beat you at something— anything—just so I could feel like I mattered here.” His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for me, but he doesn’t. “But the truth is… you weren’t the problem. You were just the only person I couldn’t lie to. Every time you looked at me, it was like you knew. You saw all the cracks in me I didn’t want anyone to see.”

The air between us is razor-thin now.

“I don’t know a lot of things,” He exhales, eyes never leaving mine. “But all I know is, somewhere between wanting to be better than you and wanting to break you, I started wanting you. And it’s terrifying because you deserve someone who’s effortless and graceful and everything I’m not.”

My breath is coming too fast, my heart hammering, my hands

shaking. And he sees it. I inhale sharply, but he keeps going.

“Do you know what you are to me?” His fingers graze my wrist, feather-light, but I feel it everywhere. “You’re a storm— the kind that drowns everything in its path. I thought if I hated you enough, I could hold myself above it. But you pulled me under. And now I’m choking on you.”

My lips part, but no sound comes out.

“I can’t stand the way you make beauty look effortless like you’ve never once doubted yourself.” A shadow crosses his face.“Because I doubt everything. Every shift of my weight, every pass, every goddamn second I spend chasing a puck across this frozen hell.”

He exhales, something breaking in his eyes. “I love you, and I hate how much it hurts.”

My stomach plummets.

“I love you like a bruise loves bone—too deep to heal clean. I love you like a body hitting the boards—all impact and no grace. And if you walk away right now, I swear I’ll hate you all over again.” His voice cracks. “But it won’t matter. Because I’ll still love you under all of it.”

The silence suffocates us.

“You’re the one I keep loving, with fear of not being loved back. They are telling me to let go, but it feels as if I’m cheating on my own heart if I do. You are what home feels like, and my heart takes comfort in you. So how am I supposed to change the way I love and keep coming back to you if nothing can change the way I see you?”

God, why is he so perfect? I break, bringing him down to me, and slam my mouth on his, getting one last taste before I let him go.

A minute later, I pull away, regretting what I just did.

The air between us is thick—heavy with the remnants of what just happened, of what we just did, of what I just let happen. And it’s dangerous because of the way Aiden is looking at me right now. Like I’m the only thing holding him together? It’s going to ruin me, and I’m going to ruin him.

I step back. Just an inch. Just enough to make space between us, to get my breathing under control, to ignore the way my lips still burn from his kiss.

His brows furrow. “Kat—”

“No.” My voice comes out sharper than I intended. I clear my throat, clenching my fists at my sides. “This—” I motion between us, between whatever the hell just happened—“was a mistake.”

Aiden’s entire body locks up. His expression shifts, morphing into something unreadable, but I see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his jaw tightens like he’s bracing for impact.

“A mistake,” he repeats, voice flat.

I swallow the lump in my throat, ignoring the way my stomach knots. “Yeah.”

His eyes darken. “That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not,” I snap, forcing myself to stay steady, to lie. “You need to get over this—over me.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I huff. “Tell you the truth?” His expression hardens.

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