Page 113 of Icebound Hearts

I don’t answer. Because deep down, I already know she does.

She just doesn’t know how to love me without setting herself on fire in the process.

And I don’t know how to stop burning for her.

Will nudges me with a beer. “C’mon. You need to relax. Pretend she’s not here for five minutes.”

“Yeah, sure,” I mutter. “I’ll just ignore the girl who gutted me two hours ago. Easy.”

Roman smirks. “We’re not saying it’s easy. We’re saying you’re spiraling and it’s painful to watch.”

I shoot him a glare, but it’s weak. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Anytime, heartbreak hotel.”

We settle in for the movie. Sort of. I don’t know what’s playing. Some action thing. People are getting shot. Blown up. Whatever. Roman and Will are doing their best to keep things light. Roman keeps tossing popcorn at Will’s face. Will’s giving him shit about missing open nets last game. Everyone else is laughing.

Except me.

Except her.

Across the room, Kat’s curled up next to Alina, legs tucked under her, eyes fixed on the screen but unfocused. She laughs at the right moments. Says the right things. But I can see it. She’s not here either. Halfway through the movie, I can’t take it anymore. I get up, mutter something about needing air, and slip out onto the balcony. The night is cold, biting against my skin even through my hoodie. I lean on the railing, trying to breathe.

A minute later, the door slides open. Will steps out, handing me another drink.

“You’re allowed to hurt,” he says quietly.

“I don’t want to hurt. I want to shut it off.”

“Then go tell her how you feel.”

“I already did.”

“And?”

“She still walked away.”

He shrugs. “Then maybe now it’s her turn to come back.”

I shake my head. “I’m tired of being the only one who shows up.”

Roman joins us, holding out a pack of gum like it’s a peace offering. “We’re not letting you sulk all night. You either confront her or you do shots with us and talk shit until you feel human again.”

“I’ll take the shots.”

We head back in, and the rest of the night blurs into something weirdly familiar—guys being guys, teasing, laughing too loud, talking trash over Mario Kart. And for a second, I forget how bad it hurts. Kat stays quiet, doesn’t interact much, but I catch herwatching me. Once. Twice. A third time when she thinks I’m not looking. And every single time, it wrecks me a little more.

At some point, Maddie declares it’s time for board games. Roman talks me into playing. Kat ends up on the other team.

Our eyes meet when we sit across from each other.

For one second, I forget how to breathe again. She looks away first.

The game goes on. Our friends are loud. A couple of shots in I’m laughing. I’m making jokes. I’m being the version of myself they expect.

But inside, I’m still stuck on that look. That moment. That one breath of vulnerability I saw in her eyes before she buried it.

Later, as people start to clear out, I help Will grab some trash bags. We’re in the kitchen when Kat walks in to grab water. She doesn’t notice me at first. Then she does. She freezes, and I do too. The silence stretches, thick and electric.

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