Page 4 of Icebound Hearts

Alina, who’s been listening quietly, suddenly smirks.

“Sweaty hot hockey bros.” I sigh dramatically.

“Why is everyone acting like this is some blessing? I’d much rather be in a house full of girls who understand things like skincare and personal space.” Alexei slings an arm over my shoulder, steering me toward the exit.

“It won’t be that bad. Maybe you’ll even have a little fun.” I snort. “Doubt it.” Still, as we leave the rink, a strange feeling lingers in my chest—a feeling I can’t quite place. As I glance over my shoulder one last time, my eyes land on him again—the hockey player who hasn’t stopped watching me, the one who hasn’t said a word. Another shiver runs down my spine.

Yeah.

This is going to be hell.

Chapter Three

KATERINA

Where is it? Panic flutters in my chest as I rummage through my bag, my fingers digging through layers of fabric and loose items. My breath quickens. No, no, no. It has to be here. Then, finally, my fingertips brushed against the familiar cool metal. Relief washes over me as I pull out my necklace, the delicate gold pendant catching the dim overhead lights. I clasp it around my neck, my shoulders sagging as the muscle tension eases.

Grandma Anastasia gave this to me before she passed away. A tiny figure skater etched into the pendant, symbolising her unwavering belief in me. She was my biggest supporter and the reason I am where I am today. Before every practice, I make sure I’m wearing this necklace. Some might call it superstition, but it’s a reminder to me—a connection to the woman who always saw my potential, even when I doubted myself. I take a deep breath, slip my headphones in, and secure my headband to keep them in place. The world outside fades, replaced by the steady rhythm of music filling my ears. Practice is gruelling, but Camilla praises Alexei and me for our performance. We ran through our routine four times, and although there’s room for improvement, the fire inside me is back—the hunger, the need to be better.

Now, it’s just me and the ice. The arena is empty. The fluorescent lights hum softly, casting a cool glow over the pristine ice sheet. I exhale, step onto the frozen surface, and push off. As I gather speed, my blades carve smooth lines into the ice, and the familiar adrenaline rush makes my heart race.

I move through my elements, landing a few jumps with ease. The ice welcomes me back like an old friend. But just as I gain momentum, something solid collides into me. I don’t have time to react before hitting the ice, a sharp sting spreading through my right hip and shoulder. Pain lances through me as I wince, brushing the shredded ice off my leggings. “What the hell?” I mutter, disappointed at myself for falling. I look up—and my breath catches.

Dark eyes. Sharp jaw.

Raven-black hair.

The most devastatingly gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen stands before me, amusement dancing in his gaze. He’s all lean muscle and raw intensity, displaying an almost infuriating confidence. His lips are moving, but there’s no sound hitting my ears. I snap out of my daze, pulling out an earbud.

“What?”

“You should watch where you’re going, Goldie.” His voice is smooth, with the slightest rough edge at the end, like he’s always a second away from smirking. I scowl.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going? I could’ve sliced you open with my skate blades.” He crouches slightly, extending a hand toward me. “Don’t worry, angel. I can handle a skate-blade.” I ignore the way his lips twitch as if he finds this amusing.

“I’m not an angel,” I muttered, gripping his hand. He pulls me up effortlessly, his strength sending another unwanted jolt through me. His chuckle is low, teasing.

“No? Then what should I call you?” “Nothing.” I glare, pulling my hand back. “I was here first. If you don’t mind, I’d like to return to my solo practice.”

He doesn’t move. He crosses his arms, his gaze flicking to my chest before meeting my eyes again.

“The rink’s open to both of us, angel. I’m not going anywhere.” My patience snaps.

“I don’t care. Go practice somewhere else.” His smirk deepens.

“Check the timesheet, sweetie. I have this time-slot reserved for the rest of the season. It's right here, every day, at the same time.”

My jaw tightens.

“You reserved this time slot?” He nods in response. I want to scream. I need this ice time—every second counts. I huff. “Fine. Whatever. You got your way this time.” I say, skating backward toward the exit. As I step off the ice, I can feel his gaze still on me, burning into my back. God, he’s insufferable. And I already know—I will hate every second of knowing him, but I will enjoy seeing him. Why is it always the hot ones with a crappy attitude?

The house is quiet when I step inside. Three pairs of eyes snap at me as I approach the living room. “Kat, you’re back,” one of the guys says. It takes me a second to recognise him. I saw him briefly earlier—tall, dark hair, mischievous smirk. Did Will tell him my name?

“I’m Roman,” he says, patting his chest once, then continues, ”That’s Grayson.” gesturing toward another guy on the couch. “And you already met Will. Our team captain, Aiden, will be heresoon.” Will leans back on the couch,eyes still on his game. “So? What’d they say?” I sigh, dropping my bag.

“Looks like you guys are stuck with me for six months.

They said I could stay here or defer a semester, and that’s not happening.” Will grins.

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