Page 11

AIDEN

Practice is brutal. My head is a fucking mess. I skate harder, pushing my body until my muscles scream, but nothing quiets the storm brewing inside me. Not the cold bite of the rink air, not the satisfying scrape of my blades against the ice—nothing. Because no matter how fast I skate or how many pucks I shoot into the net, I can’t outrun reality.

I can’t change that my baby sister, Sophia, is sick. I can’t fix her disease with a well-placed check or a fucking hat trick. And I sure as hell can’t make my dad see that hockey is the only thing keeping me sane right now. His words from last night still echo in my head:

“She will never get better, Aiden. Instead of spending every minute with her, you should focus on your degree. This hockey crap needs to stop. Sophia will die. I refuse to spend time with someone who will not be part of our lives in a few years.”

I’d taken the phone away from my ear before he could hear me slam my fist into the wall. Like, I don’t know there is a chance she will die. She’s still waiting for a bone marrow match.

I think about it every second of every goddamn day.

I grit my teeth and wind up for another slap-shot. The puck hits the top corner of the net so hard that it rattles, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough.

“Alright, that’s enough, Knight.”

I glance up, my grip tightening on my stick. Will stands at the boards, arms crossed, watching me like a ticking bomb. Not a lot of people know, but Will is my fraternal twin. We don’t have the best relationship because of our father. While growing up, he took Will everywhere, leaving me and Sophia behind like we didn’t matter. I don’t hold it against Will. We just don’t have the same connection I have with Soph.

“Not done,” I mutter.

“Yes, you fucking are.”

His voice is firm, and I know that look on his face—it’s the same one he’s had since we were kids. The don’t be an idiot, Aiden look. I exhale sharply and skate toward him, tapping my stick against the ice before hopping over the boards.

“What do you want?”

Will hands me a water bottle. “For you to get your shit together before you self-destruct.”

I roll my eyes but take the bottle anyway. “I’m fine.”

He gives me a deadpan stare.

“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.

“Aiden, do you want to play?”

Roman asks. I nod, stand up, and sit beside him in our giant beanbag. I grab one of Roman's remotes and start picking my team, but I still feel her. Lately, I feel her everywhere. I think about her during school, practice, and at home. She has invaded my head, and I can’t stop thinking about Katerina Hart.

She has Maddie on the loudspeaker, talking animatedly about figure skating. She says people don’t take it seriously enough and should be considered one of the most challenging sports.

I smirk to myself. She’s so passionate about it, so utterly Kat,

that I almost let it slide. Almost.

“Figure skating isn’t a real sport, Kat.”

I don’t even look up when I say this. I just toss it out there like it’s a fact, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Roman snaps his head towards mine, eyes wide in disbelief at what I said.

“Excuse me?”

I finally glance at her. She’s staring at me, the phone still pressed to her ear, looking like she’s torn between ending the call or strangling me. I shrug.

“It’s performance. Not a sport.”

Something shifts in her expression. It’s subtle, but I see it—the moment I hit a nerve.

Kat hangs up without another word and stands up. She marches towards me and plants herself directly before me, blocking my view of the TV.

“Say that again.”I raise an eyebrow, amused. She’s pissed. Really pissed.

“Fuck man, You did this to yourself,”

Rome says, patting my back as he stands up to leave. I didn’t want to argue with her, but I couldn’t help it. I like seeing her angry, mainly when that anger is directed towards me. Which means I can’t stop now. I lean back, stretching my arms over the back of the couch.

“It’s a hobby. Not a sport.”

Her hands ball into fists at her sides. And fuck me, she’s cute when she’s mad.

“You think just because your sport revolves around shoving

people into walls, it makes it harder than mine? You don’t know a damn thing about what I do.” I smirk.

“I know you get judged on how pretty you look.”

The throw pillow hits me square in the face. I catch it, laughing. “Touch a nerve, Hart?”

She glares.

“If you think it’s so easy, why don’t you try landing a quadruple jump?”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

“Why don’t you try taking a hit on the ice and still finishing the game?”

Her eyes narrow. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I sign up to get slammed into a wall for fun? No, I have actual skills.”

I chuckle. “Skills? Please. You twirl around in sequins and call it work.”

The second pillow comes flying at me before I can duck. This time, it hits. I wipe a hand down my face, grinning.

“Resorting to violence, Angel Face?”

She throws her hands up.

“You are insufferable!”

“And you love it.”

Kat groans, spinning on her heel and storming off, mumbling something under her breath. But I don’t miss the way her pulse jumps at her throat. The way her ears flush pink.

I don’t miss the fact that, even as she leaves, she doesn’t want to.

And fuck, neither do I.