Page 119 of Icebound Hearts

“Yeah.”

She exhales, her voice knowing. Too knowing. “And now you regret it.”

I let out a strangled laugh. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.” I close my eyes, my throat tight. “I don’t know how to let someone stay, Mom. I don’t know how to let someone close without waiting for them to leave.”

My mother is quiet, and when she finally speaks, her voice is

softer than I’ve ever heard it.

“Katerina, baby… I know why you’re scared.”

I grip the blanket tighter, feeling like a child again.

“I know you’re hurt from everything that has happened,” she continues. “But you can’t push people away just because you’re scared they might leave or hurt you.”

I swallow, the tears dangerously close now.

“I don’t want to lose him,” I whisper. “But I don’t know how to keep him, either.”

She sighs. “Then start small. Talk to him. Let him see that

you care. Even if it’s scary.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Okay.”

The next morning, Alexei shows up at my door and he’s not alone. He’s holding a bag of croissants and two cups of coffee. I raise an eyebrow, but he just pushes past me into my apartment.

“You look like shit,” he says cheerfully, setting the coffee on the counter.

I scowl. “Good morning to you, too.” He flops onto my couch, kicking his feet up. “We’re having a Kat Day.” I blink at him. “A what?” Alexei grins. “A Kat Day. Where we do, everything you love. Movies. Junk food. Skating—if you want. No boys. No drama. Just you and me.”

I stare at him, and something in my chest eases. Alexei knows. He sees me in a way I sometimes forget.

I sit down beside him, taking a sip of coffee. “Fine. But I get to pick the movie.”

He smirks. “Go ahead, Malyshka. But I swear to God if you pick some depressing French indie film, I’m walking out.” Somewhere between watching three movies and eating way too much popcorn, I start to feel human again.

Alexei doesn’t push. He doesn’t ask about Aiden.

He just lets me exist.

Chapter Forty - eight

KATERINA

I tell myself I don’t care. That the picture doesn’t matter. That it’s just a stupid party. That Aiden can do whatever the hell he wants because I made my choice. But when I walk into the rink the next day and see him actually

talking to her— My heart aches.

She’s standing too close. Her hand brushes against his arm when she laughs, and I hate that I notice. I hate that I immediately compare myself to her—tall, blonde, model-pretty, exactly the kind of girl who wouldn’t run from him, who wouldn’t push him away at every turn.

Aiden says something, and she laughs again, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Fucking hell. I slam my skates onto the bench harder than necessary.

Alina, who’s lacing up next to me, raises an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I mutter.

She follows my gaze, her lips twitching when she sees what I’m glaring at. “Ohhh. This is interesting.”

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