Page 84 of Icebound Hearts

Coach takes a step back, shaking his head in disappointment. “Figure out your priorities, Knight. Because if you keep playing like this, you won’t have a place on this team.”

Aiden’s entire body locks up, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Coach doesn’t wait for a response. He just turns and walks

off the ice, leaving Aiden standing there, seething. The silence that follows is suffocating.

I swallow hard, my fingers still wrapped around Aiden’s wrist. “Aiden—”

He yanks away, his eyes stormy when they meet mine. “Don’t.” I flinch, but nod.

Because there’s nothing else to say. Because I know exactly what he’s feeling. Because he’s right—this isn’t my fight.

Even if it feels like I’m the reason he’s losing it.

The tension lingers long after practice ends.

Aiden storms off the ice without a word, his jaw tight, his hands clenched. I watch as he disappears into the locker room, my stomach twisting uncomfortably.

He’s pissed—at Coach, at himself, at me. And I don’t know how to fix it.

I linger by the rink, running my fingers over the smooth

edge of the boards, trying to work through the tangled mess of emotions in my head. Guilt, frustration, something heavier that I don’t want to name.

“Give him space.”

I turn to find Will standing a few feet away, arms crossed. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something knowing in his gaze.

I exhale. “He’s ruining his own game because of me.”

Will shakes his head. “No, he’s ruining his game because he cares about you. And Aiden doesn’t do anything halfway.” My chest tightens. “I never wanted him to put me first.”

Will shrugs. “That’s not how he works. You should know that by now.” I do. That’s what makes this worse. I nod, biting my lip. “Thanks, Will.”

He just offers a small smirk before walking off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

When I finally make it back to the house, Aiden is already there, sitting on the couch, watching an old hockey game on the TV. He doesn’t look up when I walk in.

I close the door softly, hesitating for a second before stepping forward. “Aiden.”

I sigh, moving closer. “Can you at least look at me?” He exhales harshly, dragging a hand down his face before finally turning his head. His eyes are unreadable, but there’s something tired in them. Something frustrated.

I sit on the coffee table in front of him, crossing my arms.

“Are you mad at me?”

His jaw tightens. “I’m mad at myself.” I frown. “Why?”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Because I let myself get distracted. Because I let this”—he gestures between us—“affect my game.”

I flinch. “So, I am a distraction.”

Aiden’s eyes snap to mine, sharp and furious. “No. That’s not—” He groans, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” I demand, my heart pounding. He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I mean that I can’t stop thinking about you. I mean that every time I’m supposed to be focused, you’re right there in my head. I mean that I would drop everything for you, and I don’t know if that makes me the dumbest guy alive or just someone who’s finally figured out what actually matters.”

I stare, my breath catching. Because I wasn’t expecting that. Aiden shakes his head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Coach is right. I’ve been slipping. And it’s because I care about you more than I should.”

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