Page 46

KATERINA

I don’t sleep. Let me correct that. I can’t sleep, even if I wanted to. The second Aiden walked out of that door, it was like something inside me collapsed, a part of me breaking beyond repair. And now, I’m lying in this unfamiliar bed in the figure skating house, staring at the ceiling, my chest so tight it hurts to breathe.

I told him I didn’t love him. I lied. And he believed me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of his face, the way he looked at me like I had gutted him. Like I had taken a blade and cut right through him.

I roll over, pressing my face into the pillow, but the ache won’t

leave. It’s in my ribs, in my lungs, in every shallow breath I take. I told myself this was the right thing. That I needed to focus, that I couldn’t afford to let myself get distracted.

But all I feel is empty. By the time morning comes, I force myself out of bed, dragging my feet through my routine. I barely register Alina when she joins me in the kitchen, her eyes sharp as she watches me stir my untouched cup of coffee. “You look like hell,”

she finally says.

I scoff, but there’s no heat to it. “Thanks.”

Alina sets her mug down, leaning on the counter. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

I stare down at my coffee, my stomach twisting. “Nothing.”

She huffs, crossing her arms. “Kat, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re full of shit.”

I swallow hard, my fingers curling around my mug. “I told him I didn’t love him.”

Alina freezes. Her brows pull together, and then her mouth parts slightly, like she can’t quite believe what she just heard. “You—”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “Are you kidding me?”

I flinch but stay silent.

“Kat.”

Her voice is softer now, but still laced with frustration. “Why?”

I lift my shoulders, even though I already know the answer. Because I was scared. Because I thought pushing him away would make it easier. Because I thought if I severed the connection, I could breathe again. But I was wrong. And now it’s too late.

Alina sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re an idiot.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “I know.”

She shakes her head, muttering something in Russian before looking at me again.

“What are you going to do?”

I stare into my coffee, my chest tight. “Nothing.”

Alina’s eyes narrow. “So that’s it? You’re just going to let him think you don’t care? That you never did?”

My throat closes up, my fingers tightening around the mug. “What else can I do?”

Alina sighs, standing up. “For someone who fights like hell on the ice, you’re a coward when it comes to him.”

The words hit deep, but I don’t argue. Because she’s right. I am a coward.

I go to the rink later that afternoon, but the second I step inside, I know I made a mistake. Because Aiden is there. And he’s not alone.

He’s standing by the boards, talking to a girl I vaguely recognize—one of the hockey groupies, the kind that flocks to the team after big games. She’s laughing at something he said, reaching out to touch his arm, and he lets her.

He lets her.

One day! It took him one day to move on.

I don’t realize I’ve stopped moving until Alexei steps up beside me, following my gaze. He exhales sharply. “Kat—”

“I don’t care,”

I say quickly, my voice clipped. I force my feet to move, heading toward the ice like I didn’t just feel my stomach implode.

Alexei doesn’t push, but I feel his gaze burning into me.

The entire practice is a disaster. My jumps are shaky, my turns too stiff, my focus gone. Every time I try to get out of my head, my eyes betray me, flicking toward where Aiden is standing by the glass, completely unbothered, like I don’t even exist. Good. That’s what I wanted, right?

Then why does it feel like I can’t breathe?

I push harder, throwing myself into a triple lutz, but my blade catches the ice wrong— And I fall.

Hard.

The impact rattles through me, knocking the wind from my lungs, pain flaring across my knee and wrist as I slide across the ice.

A rush of movement—voices, skates scraping to a stop—

Aiden is there before I even register the pain, his gloved hand reaching for me.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is tight, controlled, but his eyes—his eyes betray him. Because they’re frantic, flickering over me, checking for injuries, for damage.

I hate it. I hate that he still cares.

So I push his hand away and pull myself up, forcing my expression blank.

“I’m fine.”

Aiden’s jaw tightens.

“Kat—”

“I said I’m fine,”

I snap, brushing past him, skating back toward Alexei before I can break all over again.

Aiden doesn’t stop me and he doesn’t call after me. He just watches me go and when I finally glance back, his expression is unreadable, his body rigid. I hurt him.

And now he’s hurting me back. The ache in my knee is nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

After practice I sit in the locker room, pressing an ice pack against my leg, staring at nothing in particular. The rink is empty now—everyone else has left. Even Alexei, after sending me a long, pointed look, decided not to push me further. But Aiden?

He hadn’t said a word. Not when I fell. Not when I snapped at him. Not when I skated off without looking back. And for the first time in my life, I don’t know what hurts more—the silence or the distance.

I go back to the figure skating house instead of the hockey house. It’s safer there. Less reminders. Less temptation to go back to him. Alina isn’t there when I arrive, which means I’m left alone with my thoughts, and I hate it. I busy myself, grabbing a sweatshirt and a pair of leggings before hopping in the shower, letting the scalding water burn away the tension in my muscles.

It doesn’t help.

Because no matter how much I try to ignore it, my mind keeps replaying the moment I pushed Aiden’s hand away. The flash of something raw in his eyes. The way he clenched his jaw, like he was barely holding himself together.

I did that.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my forehead against the shower tile.

I thought pushing him away would make things easier. That if I kept running, I wouldn’t have to deal with the weight of him—of us. But instead, it just feels like I’m drowning.

By the time night falls, Alina still isn’t back, which means I have no one to stop me when I do something stupid. Like go back to the hockey house.

I tell myself I just need to grab the rest of my things. That I’m not looking for him. That I don’t care. But the second I step inside, the air shifts.

Because he’s there. Sitting on the couch, watching a game on mute, his body relaxed in a way that’s too forced, too careful. I swallow hard, gripping the strap of my bag as I move toward the stairs. I don’t look at him. I don’t acknowledge him.

“Running away again?”

His voice is quiet, but it hits.

I stop, my fingers tightening around the railing. “I’m not running.”

Aiden scoffs, standing up. “Right. Because avoiding me at practice, moving out of the house, and refusing to even look at me isn’t running.”

I exhale sharply, turning to face him. “What do you want me to say, Aiden?”

His jaw clenches. “I want you to stop lying to me.”

I lift my chin, trying to steady my breathing. “I’m not lying.”

Aiden takes a step closer. “No? Then look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

My stomach twists violently. “Aiden—”

“Say it.”

His voice is rough, almost pleading. “Say it and I’ll drop it. I’ll leave you alone. You’ll never have to deal with me again.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because I can’t say it.

Aiden’s gaze darkens, his fingers flexing at his sides. “That’s what I thought.”

I shake my head, my throat burning. “It doesn’t matter.”

His brows pull together. “How does it not matter?”

“Because love isn’t enough!”

I snap, my voice cracking. “Not for me! Not for you! Not for this!”

Silence.

Aiden exhales slowly, stepping even closer, his presence overwhelming. “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

I shake my head, swallowing hard. “I can’t lose skating.”

“And you think you have to lose me to keep it?”

His voice is softer now, raw at the edges. “That’s not how this works, Kat.”

I clench my jaw, looking away. “I don’t know how else to do this.”

Aiden lifts a hand, hesitating for a second before brushing his fingers against my cheek. “Then let me show you.”

My breath catches, my heart slamming against my ribs. But before I can say anything—before I can think—Aiden leans in, his lips hovering just over mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“You can push me away all you want,”

he murmurs.

“But I’m not going anywhere.”

Aiden steps back, leaving me standing there, breathless, heart aching, wanting more.

And I realize, with a sinking feeling in my chest— I might have already lost the battle.