Page 117 of Icebound Hearts

the hallway, every time our eyes meet across the room—it’s like

something inside me cracks. But I refuse to let it show, because this is what I chose, right? So I deal with it. I force myself to move on. To focus. To pretend.

Aiden, though? He doesn’t pretend. He looks wrecked. His easy confidence? Gone. His sharp, cocky smirks? Nonexistent.

He’s there, but it’s like part of him isn’t. Like the fight’s been drained from him.

And the worst part? It’s because of me.

When we’re teaching, he doesn’t interact with me, Aiden

grabs his little ones and goes on his side of the arena without sparring me a single glance.

At practice, I keep my head down, but I feel him watching me. His presence is a weight pressing against my skin, a shadow that won’t leave. And when I stumble on a jump—not from lack of skill but because my mind won’t stop racing—I hear him curse under his breath from the other side of the glass. I snap my head up, glaring at him, daring him to say something. But he just shakes his head and turns away.

After practice, I head straight for the locker room, hoping to

escape before I have to face him again. But the second I round the corner, I slam into a solid chest. Warm hands steady me before I can fall, but I jerk away before I register who it is.

Aiden.

His jaw tightens as I step back, my pulse pounding in my ears. I don’t say anything. I don’t move. Neither does he.

For a long moment, we just stare at each other, tension thick, suffocating. His eyes are dark, stormy, like he’s barely holding himself together.

And then—

“Say it again.”

My stomach twists. “What?”

Aiden exhales sharply, stepping closer. “Say you don’t love me.”

My throat goes dry. How many times does he want me to say it?

He shakes his head, his voice lower, rougher. “Look me in the eye and say it.

I can’t.

I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stand here, locked in this battle I know I’m losing.

Aiden scoffs, raking a hand through his hair. “Say it, so I can move on.” My chest tightens. “It doesn’t matter.” I love you, I think to myself. I’m sorry for hurting you.

His gaze sharpens. “It matters to me.”

I press my lips together, forcing the words out before I can stop them. “Then that’s your problem.” Aiden’s body locks up. His eyes darken, something breaking in them. For a second, I think he’s going to say something, that he’s going to fight for this. He steps back and nods, walking away. And this time, he doesn’t look back.

This time, I think I might have actually lost him. And this time, I don’t know if I’ll survive it. Aiden doesn’t speak to me after that.Not at practice. Not at the rink. Not anywhere. And I tell myself it’s a good thing. That this is what I wanted.

That this is better. But it’s not. Because now, instead of lingering stares and sharp-edged words, there’s nothing. And somehow, that’s worse.

A week passes like this. A week of Aiden walking past me like I don’t exist. Of watching him skate harder, push himself further, like he’s trying to burn me out of his system.

Like I was never there to begin with. I should be relieved. I should be happy that he finally got the message. But all I feel is cold. Alina corners me after practice, slamming her locker shut with unnecessary force.

“Okay, enough.”

I sigh, pulling off my skates. “I don’t have the energy for this right now.”

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