The Coldest Knee Ice Pack Novels & Stories

She had woken up a little later in the day, no doubt feeling a little better than she had been and taken a warm shower. Of course, Anelia swore not to take anymore cold showers, which she had been taking in the early mornings when she was trying to avoid Dex. Anelia easily caught a cold and she should have known that taking cold showers in the morning to help rejuvenate her from lack of sleep was not a very good idea.

The last thing I wanted was to run into Tessa or Gemini again. I opened the fridge, its light spilling into the dark room, and grabbed the ice tray. Wrapping a few cubes in a thin cloth, I hurried back to my room, shutting the door softly behind me. The cold ice pressed against my hand, numbing the pain slightly. I pressed the makeshift ice pack harder against the burns, letting some relief wash over me as my body sank back onto the bed. The ice managed to numb the pain and dull the fire, just long enough for me to drift back into sleep.

She said, looking guilty and I sighed. “Don’t do that again, it was reckless and you could have gotten yourself hurt!” I scold and I didn’t even know I had been imposing my aura on her. “Mustn’t be a dick about it!” She murmured and I pretended not to hear her. I huffed, looking at her petite feet. “I’m going to get an ice pack and press on it…” I retrieved the pack from the refrigerator, the bag was so cold it made my palm feel numb and cause slight discomfort. I sat beside, guiding her head onto my thighs as I slowly pressed the cold pack to her temple.

And I jumped. The air was biting cold. I hit the ground with a muffled thud, sinking into a heap of snow. My knees buckled, and a sting cut sharply across my leg where skin peeled against the edge of ice. The pain came immediately but numbed almost instantly by the cold slipping into it. I stood up fast, subbing the ache. My breath came quickly and unsteady, turning white in the freezing air. Without glancing back, I started moving toward the street. Each step away from the house felt like taking back a piece of myself.

He set the bag on the desk — extra ankle tape, anti‑inflammatory gel, a fresh ice pack — and popped the cooler open to show me a bottle of water and a chocolate bar. “Figured you’d already taped it, but better safe than sorry. How does it feel now? Swelling at all?” I sat on the edge of the bed and propped my foot up on the chair. “Sore. Not bad, just… tight when I point my toes too hard.” He knelt down carefully, untucked the hem of my sweatpants, and wrapped the fresh ice pack around my ankle, securing it with a light layer of tape. His hands were warm and calloused, his touch gentle, like he was handling something fragile.

drizzle, in a way that was, technically, a single second and felt like a small eternity. "Your knee," he said. Quiet. "It's fine." "It's not fine. Ice it for twenty minutes. Four times a day." "Okay." "Ms. Park" "Emma." He closed his eyes for a second. Opened them. "Emma. Drive home. Ice your knee. Eat something that isn't ice cream." "You don't know what I eat." "I know you eat ice cream." "How do you know that?" He looked at me. The look lasted half a second. It was the longest half second of my entire life.

The air in the Briarwood locker room was heavy, wet soup—old sweat, the strong smell of sports tape, and the fancy cologne the guys used to cover up the rink smell. Outside my stall, the other Knights were a mix of loud voices, slamming locker doors, and high-fives. Loud rap music with heavy bass played from a speaker in the corner, shaking the floor and my feet. It was meant to be a fun time after skating, but it didn't help with the silence in my mind. “Voss! Are you planning on living in there, or are we going to the Liquid Lounge?” I didn't look up. I knew the voice. John, our goalie and my oldest friend. I could hear the steady clack-clack-clack of his skates as he finished unbuckling h

A towel or ice pack. Relief hit like a gust of wind. I let myself sag into the mattress. Muscles unknotted. He climbed in behind me, arm sneaking around my waist. Warm again. Heavy. I shoved at his chest, annoyed. Wanted the cold, not the furnace of his body. He paused. Didn’t move. Then pulled back. Mattress lifted slightly. He muttered something. I didn’t catch the words. Two more ice packs later, the coolness settled my skin. My breathing evened. My head stopped pulsing.

It didn't make sense, but it just happened. June's leg was throbbing so badly that she couldn't help but compress it with the ice cubes. There was no way June could compress her own feet with a cloth and ice cubes, so she decided to put them in the basin filled with ice cubes. June winced as the pain in her leg ached the instant her skin touched the ice. June knew this would alleviate the pain, but it was still aching.

That worried me as Tippa lay here sweating profusely from her head to her toes. I returned to the kitchen and got some ice from the freezer for an ice pack pouch in my medical kit. I pushed her black hair away from her face. Then, I placed the cold compress on her forehead, eyes, and behind her neck. For the first time, it seemed like forever since I had paid attention to her face. She was so beautiful, but her face looked thin.