Page 22 of Icebound Hearts

“Right. That’s why you’re acting like a damn psycho on the ice.” I don’t respond. Because if I do, I might say what’s running through my head. Whenever I lace up my skates, I feel like I can breathe again. If I stop moving and pushing, I’ll have to sit with the fear that we won’t find a match for Sophia in time. That she’ll—No. I won’t go there.

Will observes me like he can hear the thoughts I’m trying to suppress. Then, in a rare moment of softness, he claps a hand on my shoulder.

“Look, I get it. You don’t have to talk about it, but you don’t have to keep pretending you’re indestructible.” I huff out a breath, shaking my head.

“No offence, but I don’t need a heart-to-heart right now.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Will says dryly. Then he smirks. “Maybe you need something else. Something infuriating.”

I frown. “The hell are you—” Before I can finish, someone crashes into me from behind, nearly knocking me off balance.

“What the—”

“Watch where you’re going, Asshole.” I know that voice. I hate that voice. That’s a lie, I don’t.

I turn around, and there she is. Standing on the ice with her hands on her hips, looking damn beautiful, Goldie sneers up at me like I’m the problem.

My right eye twitches. “You literally ran into me.” She shrugs, entirely unbothered. “You were in my way.” I stare at her, then glance at Will, who looks way too entertained by this.

“You brought her here?” I demand. Will lifts a shoulder.

“Figured you could use a distraction.” Kat tilts her head, all fake innocence.

“Don’t tell me I make you lose focus, Knight.” I exhale the frustration through my nose.

“You are a distraction.” Her lips curve into a slow, taunting smile.

“Then I must be doing something right.” Will is outright laughing now, and I swear to God, I’m going to kill him. Kat skates backward, her movements effortless. “What’s the matter? Not used to someone being better on the ice than you?” I let out a sharp laugh.

“Better? Sweetheart, did you forget who won the other night? You twirl for a living. I fight.” Kat gasps dramatically.

“Oh, no. The big, bad hockey player thinks he’s tougher than me. I’m so scared.” I smirk, enjoying the back-and-forth with her.

“You should be.”

“Try me, Knight.” She pushes off, gliding down the ice, and something about the challenge in her voice makes my blood heat. Fine. I skate after her, closing the distance in seconds, but she’s already spinning into a perfect turn, barely out of reach. I lunge. She dodges. It’s infuriating. It’s exhilarating. And the worst part? I’m enjoying it. We keep this up for a few more minutes—her teasing, me chasing, neither of us backing down. Will and Roman are watching from the boards, probably placing bets on who will snap first. Finally, Kat slows down, stopping near the centre of the rink. She’s breathing fast, and her cheeks are flushed from the cold. I skate up to her, close enough that our blades nearly touch.

“You always this annoying?” She smirks, eyes gleaming at my question.

“Only around people who deserve it.” I shake my head, but I don’t move away. I should step back, but I don’t. I can’t. Her expression shifts slightly as if she just realised how close we actually are. Her breath comes out in a small puff of air, and I catch the faintest hint of vanilla and something sweeter—caramel,probably from her coffee addiction. I don’t know why I noticed that. Or why I don’t hate it. Kat opens her mouth, probably to throw another insult my way, but before she can, I mutter,

“You ever shut up?” She tilts her head, considering. Then she grins.

“Make me.” I exhale sharply, shaking my head, and a smile threatening to reach my lips.

“You’re impossible.” She grins and winks at me. “And yet, here you are.”

Before I can respond—before I can do something stupid like admit she’s in my head—she skates off, leaving me standing there. Will skates up next to me, smirking.

“Feeling better?” I snap, glaring at him.

“Shut the fuck up.” He just laughs, skating away. I stand there for a second longer, watching Kat as she spins effortlessly, her movements fluid and precise.

And despite everything—despite the weight on my shoulders, the stress, the exhaustion—I realise something.

Will was right. I do feel better, and maybe I don’t hate her, but I like her presence.

The rest of the day is a blur: training, arguments with Dad, and trying to stay sane in a house full of idiots. I should be getting some sleep, but instead, I do what I always do—claim my usual spot on the couch, flip through channels, and ignore the fact that Kat herself is sitting just a few feet away from me.

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