Page 44

KATERINA

I don’t want to see him today. There are days when my heart wins over my head. Days when my heart is begging for me to hear him out so we don’t lose him. And there are days like today. My brain has taken control over my heart and refuses to talk to Aiden, or listen to him. The house is quiet when I step inside. Too quiet. I don’t know what I expected. I had timed it carefully, knowing the guys would still be at practice. I just needed to grab a few things—clothes, toiletries, anything I had left behind. In and out. No distractions. No conversations I wasn’t ready for.

Not him.

But as I push my bedroom door open, the air shifts. I can feel someone watching me, and then I hear the door click shut behind me.

I spin around, my breath catching, as my eyes land on a very

tired Aiden. Aiden.

Leaning against the door like he’s been waiting for this. Like he knew I would come back eventually, and he just had to wait long enough for me to walk right into his trap.

His eyes—stormy, unreadable, too much—lock onto mine, and the room feels smaller, the air thicker.

I swallow hard. “Move.”

He doesn’t.

I shift, trying to step past him, but he pushes off the door, blocking my way with nothing but his body, presence, and everything.

“You don’t get to run from me,”

he says, his voice low, rough,

broken.

I flinch from the pain in his voice. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

His jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “And I let you. I let you walk away. I let you pretend like this—we—didn’t matter.”

His voice drops even lower, something dangerous laced in the way he steps closer. “But it does, Kat. And I’m done pretending it doesn’t.”

I hate the way my chest tightens at his words. Hate the way my fingers itch to reach for him, to pull him close, to fall into him like I always do.

But I can’t. I won’t.”

I really tried to be there, Kat.”

He whispers, eyes full of pain.

"Aiden, you didn’t come." My voice shakes, but I keep my eyes on him. " I fell and almost lost my dream because I was so desperate to have you there, I kept glancing at the stands for you, so, please. Don’t make up some excuse."

He shakes his head, stepping toward me. “Kat, I’m not making it up.”

I cross my arms. “You disappeared. That’s all I know.”

He exhales hard. “A freshman pulled a prank on Westbridge. Coach found out right before practice and lost it. Had all of us in the weight room for three hours. No breaks. Nobody was allowed to leave or even get into the locker room.”

I blink. That’s... insane. But I don’t say anything.

“I wanted to be there,”

he says. “I kept looking at the clock, thinking about you. But Coach was losing it. If anyone tried to leave, he threatened to bench us for the season. I didn’t have my phone. I couldn’t get to it.”

My chest tightens, but I keep my expression flat. “You still didn’t show up.”

“I know.”

His voice cracks a little. “But I swear, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t.”

I square my shoulders. “Aiden, I—”

“I hated you.”

The words hit like a blow, sharp and unexpected, and I go still. Aiden’s breathing is uneven, his eyes burning into mine as if he’s ripping himself open, raw and unfiltered, right in front of

me.

“God, I hated you so much when we first met,”

he murmurs, voice rough like he’s been holding this in for too long. “You were everything I wasn’t. Sharp edges and perfect grace. You made it look easy, and all I could do was crash and burn. You were fire, and I wanted to drown you out.”

He takes a step closer, skates biting into the ice of my mind, forcing me back until my spine presses against the wall.

“But I couldn’t stop watching you.”

His breath hitches. “Even when I told myself you were my enemy, I still watched you. Every turn. Every jump. Every stupid little smile you gave when you landed something clean. It drove me insane because I didn’t understand it. I didn’t want to.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out because he’s not done.

“And then you started watching me back.”

His voice is softer now but no less intense. “Not with hate. Not even with anger. Just… with this look, like you saw something in me I couldn’t even see myself. And I knew I was screwed.”

My chest tightens.

“I spent so much time trying to beat you at something— anything—just so I could feel like I mattered here.”

His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for me, but he doesn’t. “But the truth is… you weren’t the problem. You were just the only person I couldn’t lie to. Every time you looked at me, it was like you knew. You saw all the cracks in me I didn’t want anyone to see.”

The air between us is razor-thin now.

“I don’t know a lot of things,”

He exhales, eyes never leaving mine. “But all I know is, somewhere between wanting to be better than you and wanting to break you, I started wanting you. And it’s terrifying because you deserve someone who’s effortless and graceful and everything I’m not.”

My breath is coming too fast, my heart hammering, my hands

shaking. And he sees it. I inhale sharply, but he keeps going.

“Do you know what you are to me?”

His fingers graze my wrist, feather-light, but I feel it everywhere. “You’re a storm— the kind that drowns everything in its path. I thought if I hated you enough, I could hold myself above it. But you pulled me under. And now I’m choking on you.”

My lips part, but no sound comes out.

“I can’t stand the way you make beauty look effortless like you’ve never once doubted yourself.”

A shadow crosses his face. “Because I doubt everything. Every shift of my weight, every pass, every goddamn second I spend chasing a puck across this frozen hell.”

He exhales, something breaking in his eyes. “I love you, and I hate how much it hurts.”

My stomach plummets.

“I love you like a bruise loves bone—too deep to heal clean. I love you like a body hitting the boards—all impact and no grace. And if you walk away right now, I swear I’ll hate you all over again.”

His voice cracks. “But it won’t matter. Because I’ll still love you under all of it.”

The silence suffocates us.

“You’re the one I keep loving, with fear of not being loved back. They are telling me to let go, but it feels as if I’m cheating on my own heart if I do. You are what home feels like, and my heart takes comfort in you. So how am I supposed to change the way I love and keep coming back to you if nothing can change the way I see you?”

God, why is he so perfect? I break, bringing him down to me, and slam my mouth on his, getting one last taste before I let him go.

A minute later, I pull away, regretting what I just did.

The air between us is thick—heavy with the remnants of what just happened, of what we just did, of what I just let happen. And it’s dangerous because of the way Aiden is looking at me right now. Like I’m the only thing holding him together? It’s going to ruin me, and I’m going to ruin him.

I step back. Just an inch. Just enough to make space between us, to get my breathing under control, to ignore the way my lips still burn from his kiss.

His brows furrow. “Kat—”

“No.”

My voice comes out sharper than I intended. I clear my throat, clenching my fists at my sides. “This—”

I motion between us, between whatever the hell just happened—“was a mistake.”

Aiden’s entire body locks up. His expression shifts, morphing into something unreadable, but I see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his jaw tightens like he’s bracing for impact.

“A mistake,”

he repeats, voice flat.

I swallow the lump in my throat, ignoring the way my stomach knots. “Yeah.”

His eyes darken. “That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not,”

I snap, forcing myself to stay steady, to lie. “You need to get over this—over me.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

I huff. “Tell you the truth?”

His expression hardens.

“No.”

snaps, eyes begging with mine.”

Lie to me.”

My breath catches. He knows. Of course, he knows. Aiden Knight isn’t stupid. He’s always seen through me in ways no one else ever has, cutting through my walls like they’re made of glass. But I can’t let him see this. I won’t. So I lift my chin, steel my spine, and say the one thing that will finally break him.

“I don’t love you, Aiden.” Silence.

A wreckage of silence, sharp and suffocating, stretching between us like the aftermath of a storm. Aiden doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me, his face unreadable, his entire body so still it’s terrifying.

He lets out a breath. Slow. Controlled. But his hands curl

into fists like he’s trying to hold himself together, like if he lets go for even a second, he’ll fall apart.

I bite the inside of my cheek, willing myself to stay steady. To keep my face blank. To pretend this doesn’t hurt like hell.

Because it does, it kills me. But I don’t say another word.

Aiden inhales deeply, running a hand through his hair, before finally stepping back.

His voice is quiet when he speaks, rough at the edges. “Okay.”

I don’t breathe.

“I won’t bother you anymore,”

he adds, and the way he says it— the finality, the sheer emptiness in his tone—makes something shatter inside me.

I force myself to nod. “Good.”

Aiden turns, his movements slow and deliberate, and walks out the door. The second it clicks shut behind him, I crumble.

My knees buckle, my hands flying to my face as I gasp for breath as I break in the safety of my empty room because I just lost him. I just lost the only thing that ever made me feel alive. And the worst part?

I did it to myself.