Page 11 of Icebound Hearts

He shakes his head, stepping back first.

“You should watch yourself, Hart.”

“Or what?” His lips curve slightly, but there’s no humour in it.

“You might find out.” He leaves before I can respond, disappearing down the hall and leaving me frustrated and confused.

I hate him.

I hate him and his stupid smirk.

Chapter Six

KATERINA

The following morning, I had one goal: to avoid Aiden Knight at all costs. After last night’s argument, I need space. It's time to let the anger simmer down before I do something reckless, like throw one of his stupid hockey sticks out the window. My knuckles are still sore from how tightly I clenched my fists when stormed out of the rink. Even now, lying in bed, I can feel the remnants of frustration curling in my stomach, threatening to boil over.

A sharp knock on my door nearly sends me leaping out of my skin.

“Kat, you alive?” Roman’s voice filters through the wood door. I groan, rolling onto my stomach. “Unfortunately.”

“Good. Because Will made pancakes, and if you don’t hurry, I’ll eat your share.” That gets me moving. I shuffle out of my room and into the kitchen, where the rich scent of coffee greets me. Roman is leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone, while Will flips pancakes at the stove like some domestic god.

“Morning, Kit-Kat,” Roman greets without looking up. “Rough night?”

“You have no idea.” I grab a mug and pour myself coffee, inhaling the warmth before taking a slow sip. The caffeine hits like a lifeline. Will eyes me and pushes a plate of pancakes in my direction.

“You and Aiden gonna murder each other soon, or should we start placing bets?” I groan.

“I’m trying to ignore him.”

Roman snorts. “Good luck with that. You two have this… thing.” I glare at him. “There is no thing.”

“There’s totally a thing,” he replies.

“Shut up and eat your pancakes.” Before he can retort, the front door swings open, heavy footsteps echo through the hallway, and Aiden appears.

His damp hair curls slightly from his morning workout, sticking to his forehead. He’s wearing a hoodie and sweats, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. Our eyes lock for half a second. Just long enough to feel the static between us. It's just long enough to remind me why I hate him. Aiden says nothing. He just grabs a protein shake from the fridge and disappears upstairs.

I exhale slowly, pretending that interaction didn’t shake me. But Roman notices. “Oh, yeah,” he muses.

“Definitely a thing.” I chuck my napkin at his head, but he manages to catch it, his smirk unwavering.

After breakfast, Alexei picks me up for practice, and I'm over the moon that we are about to train with Camilla. Until practice starts.

It’s brutal.

Camilla has us running our routine over and over again. Each time, she points out something that needs fixing—my landing is a fraction off, my hold with Alexei isn’t tight enough, and my expression isn’t emotive enough. By the fifth run-through, I’m sweating and biting back the urge to scream. Coach’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Again, Katerina. You’re being sloppy today,” she calls, her sharp tone echoing off the walls. My body feels like it’s made of lead, weighed down by the exhaustion that clings to every muscle. We’ve been practicing since six in the morning, and it’s almost noon. The first qualifier is next Friday, and Coach has been pushing us to the limit. Alexei, too, looks like he’s running on fumes. Every time Alexei lifts me, his arms shake, and I can feel the tremor in his grip. It’s only a matter of time before he collapses, but he keeps pushing forward.

“Both of you need to be in exceptional sync,” Coach barks. “It may be just the first qualifier, but you must show them why you’re the best at what you do.” I know she’s right. I want to be the best. But all I can think about right now is food, sleep, and the dull ache that’s settled deep in my bones. I glance at Alexei and see the same exhaustion in his eyes.

“Again,” Camilla says, tapping her pen against her clipboard. Alexei groans under his breath. “She’s trying to kill us.”

“She’s succeeding,” I mutter, shaking my arms before stepping back into position.

We go again, and this time, it’s sharper. Stronger. I push through my exhaustion, channeling every ounce of frustration into my movements. Every jump, every spin—perfect. When we finish, Camilla finally nods in approval. “Better, that’s enough for today. Alina, it’s your turn. Alexei, Kat, take a break.” I nod at our coach as I make my way towards the exit. I practically collapse onto the bench as I unlace my skates. My entire bodyaches; I only want a hot shower and sleep for the next twelve hours.

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