Page 38 of Icebound Hearts

“Yeah, I do,” I admit because I have no idea what else to say. Aiden spins in my chair as he leans his head back, staring at the ceiling with a grin.

I must fall asleep at some point because the next time I open my eyes, the room is drenched in early morning light. My head feels heavy, and my body feels sore, like I ran ten miles in my sleep.

The chair is empty. For a second, I think I imagined the whole thing. Maybe Aiden was just another hallucination, some twisted projection of my fried brain. But then I spot something—on my desk, right next to my lamp. A Gatorade bottle and a granola bar. Both are unopened, clearly left there on purpose. I pick up the bottle, and a crumpled piece of paper is under it. There’s writing scrawled across in thick black Sharpie.

Hydrate, dumbass.

I snort, then immediately feel guilty for finding it funny. I should be mad that he stayed, furious that he saw me like that, but I don’t —not at all. Alina was right. I do like him.

Chapter seventeen

AIDEN

I woke up feeling like someone had snuck into my room overnight and stomped all over my chest. Not physically—no, I would’ve noticed that. It was emotional damage. My brain felt overloaded, my heart a little too aware of its own beating, and every time I so much as thought about Kat, my stomach twisted like I’d swallowed a live snake.

I groaned and flopped back onto my pillow. Last night had been… intense. I wasn’t exactly the guy people went to for comfort. Sarcasm? Absolutely. Witty insults? All day. But soft reassurances and steady hands? That was new territory. And yet, when Kat had broken down, something in me had just—clicked. Like I was supposed to be there and keep her steady while her world tilted. And I had, which was terrifying.

Because now, in the cold light of day, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way she’d leaned into me. The way her breath hitched. The way I’d wanted to press my chin to the top of her head and tell her that she was okay and that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. I was officially losing my mind.

A sharp knock on my door yanked me out of my downward spiral.

“Aiden,” came a familiar voice that haunted my mind day and night. “Are you alive in there, or did your ego finally crush you under its massive weight?”

Ah, there she was. My blood pressure was back to normal. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and opened the door, only to find Kat standing there with a single eyebrow arched and a smirk on her lips.

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’d invite you in, but I wouldn’t want to expose you to the sheer devastation of my morning hair.”

Kat doesn’t even blink. “I’ve seen worse.” I squinted, jealousy creeping in.

“Have you?” She shrugs. “I had a figure skating partner for years. There were some dark times.”

The teasing was familiar and safe, like slipping into a favourite old hoodie. It was our thing. We bickered. We argued. It was a battle of wits where no one really won, but neither of us ever wanted to stop. It was easy. It was fun. And yet, standing here, watching her smirk at me, I couldn’t ignore the fact that something had changed.

She was still Kat—sharp, quick, and endlessly infuriating—but now I also knew the softness underneath. The vulnerability. The way her voice cracked when she was scared, the way she clung to me like I was the only solid thing in the room. I was so screwed.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, mainly to keep myself from thinking too hard. Kat rolls her eyes.

“Wow. Rude. Maybe I came to check on you. Ever think of that?” I blinked.

“No.”

She sighs dramatically. “Typical. Anyway, since I’m clearly wasting my concern, let’s get to the real reason I’m here. I needa ride to the store. Alina has my car, and I’m craving junk food.” I raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you think I’m your personal chauffeur?”

“Well,” she said, tilting her head, “for one, I asked nicely.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“For two,” she continues as if I hadn’t spoken, “you owe me after last night.” I frown.

“Wait—how do I owe you? I was the one who—” She cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

“Emotional labor, Aiden. You made me have feelings, and now I have to balance that out by buying junk food. I can’t do that without a ride. So, really, this is your fault.” I stare at her in disbelief. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” I say, walking towards the dresser.

Kat grins. “And yet, here you are, grabbing your keys.” I look down at the keys in my right hand and groan...

Damn it. She’s right.

Fifteen minutes later, we were in my car, windows down, music playing at a low volume so we could still talk. Kat had her feet propped up on the dashboard despite my half-hearted protests, and every now and then, she’d turn her head just enough that I could catch the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. It was distracting.

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