Page 36

KATERINA

Aiden is slacking and I see it before anyone else does. The way his footwork is just a fraction slower than usual, the way his shots aren’t hitting as cleanly, the

way he keeps glancing toward me during practice like he’s not fully focused. It’s subtle—subtle enough that most people wouldn’t catch it—but I know Aiden. I know the way he moves, the precision he carries, the intensity that usually burns behind every shift he takes on the ice.

And right now? It’s off.

I shift uncomfortably from my place on the other side of the

rink, watching as Aiden skates down the ice, taking another shot that barely misses the net. He curses under his breath, frustration evident in the way he tightens his grip on his stick.

Coach Matthews notices it, too.

“Knight! Get your head in the game!”

he barks, his voice cutting through the cold air of the rink. Aiden clenches his jaw but nods, skating back into line with the rest of his teammates.

I exhale, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling settling in my chest. Half an hour later, the inevitable happens.

Practice stops cold as Coach blows his whistle, the sharp sound echoing through the arena. Everyone turns as he stalks toward Aiden, his expression stormy.

“Knight, what the hell is going on with you?”

Aiden exhales sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “I’m fine.”

Coach’s glare darkens. “Bullshit. You’ve been missing practices, showing up late, and when you do show up, your head isn’t in it. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I shift uncomfortably from where I’m standing, fully aware of the reason Aiden has been slacking.

Me.

He’s been helping me practice every night, making sure I get my strength back after surgery. He’s been there for me, making sure I don’t push too hard, that I don’t fall apart under the pressure of recovery. And now, it’s costing him.

Aiden’s jaw ticks, but he doesn’t say anything.

Coach scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re distracted, Knight. And I can see exactly what’s doing it.”

My stomach drops as Coach’s gaze flickers toward me. Aiden tenses beside him.

“I’m not distracted,”

Aiden grits out.

Coach laughs coldly. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re too caught up with her to remember what the hell you’re playing for.”

My face burns. Aiden snaps.

“That is not what’s happening.”

His voice is sharp, dangerous, filled with barely contained anger. “Kat has nothing to do with this.”

Coach crosses his arms. “You sure about that? Because it seems to me like your head is too far up her ass to focus on the team.”

Aiden steps forward.

I react before he can do something stupid, skating towards him and grabbing his arm before he can get too close to Coach.

“Aiden,”

I say quietly. “It’s fine.”

He whips his head toward me, his eyes burning. “No, it’s not.”

I squeeze his wrist, trying to ground him, trying to remind him that this isn’t a battle he needs to fight.

But Aiden isn’t the type to back down.

“Stay out of my personal life,”

he tells Coach, his voice low and deadly. “What I do off the ice is none of your business.”

Coach’s gaze narrows. “It is my business when it affects your performance.”

Aiden’s nostrils flare, but before he can say anything else,

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.”

The words hit me like a gut punch. Because I care about him too. More than I should. I swallow hard, shifting closer. “Aiden, I—”

“Don’t.”

He looks up at me, his expression raw. “Not if you don’t mean it.”

The words die in my throat. Because I don’t know what to say. I do the only thing I can. I lean in. Aiden inhales sharply, his hands tightening on his knees, like he’s holding himself back. Like he’s waiting.

I kiss him.

Soft, slow, but undeniable.

Aiden doesn’t hesitate. The second our lips touch, his hands are on me, pulling me into his lap, his fingers digging into my waist. He kisses me like he’s making a point, like he’s trying to prove something, and maybe he is.

Maybe we both are.

When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against his, my breathing unsteady.

“We’ll figure this out,”

I whisper.

Aiden lets out a slow breath, his hands still gripping me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. “Yeah.”

And for now, that’s enough.