Expose on the Ice (Sparks on the Ice #1)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

LILY

I push through the crowded bar, my eyes scanning for Tank’s hulking frame. The Frost Giants have just wrapped up a massive victory, and the entire team is riding high, out on the town in small groups to celebrate. I spot him at a corner table, nursing what looks like a whiskey.

“Mind if I join you?” I ask, sliding into the seat across from him. “Someone told me you’d be here…”

Tank’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Ah, the intrepid reporter. Pull up a chair, sweetheart. What can I do for you?”

I ask the waitress for a gin and tonic, then turn back to Tank. “Just looking for some friendly conversation.”

He chuckles, a deep rumble that seems to vibrate the table. “Sure, sure. And I’m the tooth fairy. Come on, what’s really on your mind?”

I sigh, deciding honesty is the best policy. “Alright, you got me. I’m trying to understand Carter better. Off the record.”

“Okay, as long as it is off the record…” Tank’s expression softens slightly, and he takes a long sip of his whiskey, seeming to weigh his words carefully. “Look, I know he comes off as a grade-A asshole most of the time. And trust me, he can be, most of the time. But there’s a hell of a lot more to him than that, he just doesn’t let anyone see it.”

I lean in, intrigued. “Go on.”

“There’s no one you’d rather have on your side in a tough game. And nobody works harder than that kid,” Tank says. “You saw how he led from the front. He crushed that guy, tried to fight the whole team. He knew we needed something to get us up and about, and he delivered. And then he also scored the game winning goal.”

My drink arrives, and I take a grateful sip. “Yeah, I’ve noticed more dimensions to him than I expected, that’s for sure…”

Tank nods. “Sure, his attitude pisses us off every so often. But weirdly, it also brings the rest of us closer together. He doesn’t need to be adored, doesn’t seem to want to be, either. Something else drives him, and he fuels us. And when the chips are down, he always stands up.”

I think back to the fight, how the team had rallied around Carter in a split second. “So, he’s the black sheep, but also the heart of the team?”

“Bingo.” Tank points a finger at me, grinning. “You’re sharper than you look, sweetheart. That’s exactly it. Knox is like… I don’t know, the grumpy old man of the team, even though he’s one of our youngest players. We all gripe and roll our eyes at him, but deep down, we respect the hell out of him.”

I mull this over, trying to reconcile this image with the prickly, defensive Knox I’ve encountered. “But what drives him? What makes him so special?”

Tank’s expression grows serious. “You had to be there, back when he first joined the team. The kid was a machine, Lily. I’ve never seen anyone with that kind of drive, that kind of raw talent. It was like… he had something to prove, you know? But more than that, it’s like he was running from something.”

I feel a little thrill at that last part. There it is again, that hint of a deeper story lurking beneath the surface. “Running from what?”

Tank shrugs, draining the last of his whiskey. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Whatever it is, it lit a fire under his ass that’s never gone out. And as much as he pisses us off sometimes, we all know we’re better with him than without him. We joke about him, we rib him, but he’s good for us.”

I nod, processing this new information. It paints a more complex picture of Knox than I’d had before – still frustrating and difficult, but also matched what I’d seen with my own two eyes since I’d started to look around, rather than simply try to drill him for answers.

“Thanks, Tank,” I say sincerely. “This helps a lot.”

He waves a hand dismissively, drains his drink, and stands. “Don’t mention it. Just… go easy on the kid, alright? He’s got his reasons for being the way he is, even if he won’t tell anyone what they are.”

As he stands and departs, taking care of the check on the way out, I sit there and finish my drink alone. My mind is whirling with new information and perspectives, which are forcing me to change my mind about the guy, his place on the team, and the angles I want to take in reporting.

When I’m done, I make my way back to the hotel. On the short walk, I can’t shake the contrast between the two eras of Carter Knox that Tank had described: a college kid who played free and like an artist, and a pro who was driven by some unknown force and had turned into a sledgehammer.

The player Tank had described, and I’d seen, was a fanatic.

A maniac that awed his teammates and asked nothing of them.

Who put it all on himself.

But why?

The question plagues me as I reach the hotel. The lobby is quiet, most of the team having retired to their rooms or still out celebrating, and few other guests around. I’m about to head for the elevator when a familiar voice catches my attention.

My journalist’s instincts kick in, and I duck behind a large pillar. Peering out, I see Knox sitting on a secluded corner sofa, his back to me. He’s speaking in hushed tones to a woman I don’t recognize. Gone is his usual aloofness. Instead, his shoulders are slightly hunched, his head bowed.

He looks… vulnerable.

“You don’t need to worry, Isla,” he’s saying, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “I’ll get those bills paid.”

“Carter, you’re doing too much already,” the woman – Isla – replies. “I can’t keep taking your money like this.”

“Yes, you can. Just let me help you and your kid, okay?” Carter insists, then waits until she nods. Standing, he continues, “I’ve got to go.”

I watch as Isla stands as well, and the pair of them share a slow, deep hug, pressed together. Unbidden, a flicker of jealousy sparks in my brain, and I feel some sensitive parts of my body tingle. For the briefest moment, I want to be in Isla’s shoes.

A second later, it’s over. He retreats to the elevators, thankfully not spotting me, and Isla starts heading for the exit. As they head in different directions, I have a split second to decide. I can ignore the situation, press him on it and likely be stonewalled like usual, or I can talk to Isla.

This feels like a needle in a haystack.

A pig soaring through the sky.

It’s a side of Knox I’d never expected to see in the open. The arrogant, powerful, aggressive and dismissive man I’d been battling with seems miles away from this person – someone who cares deeply, who carries burdens I don’t understand.

I make my decision.

I hurry after Isla, my heart racing. This could be the breakthrough I need. Or it could bring a whole flaming mess down on me, compromising my position with the team and therefore my job. But I have to take this shot because who the hell knows if I’ll get another.

YOLO.

As she steps outside, I call out, “Excuse me! Isla?”

She turns, surprise flickering across her face. “Yes?”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart as I approach her. As she stands and looks at me, curious, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Holy crap, she’s gorgeous. Like, stop-traffic, make-you-question-your-sexuality gorgeous.

Long, silky dark hair frames a face that belongs on magazine covers. Her eyes are a striking shade of green that put my own to shame. And don’t even get me started on her body. She has curves that would make both men and women do double-takes.

I swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. Isla is stunning, yes, but as I take a closer look, I notice the subtle signs of exhaustion etched into her features. There are faint shadows under those captivating eyes, and a weariness in her posture that speaks of bone-deep fatigue.

“May I help you?” Isla asks, her voice tinged with wariness. “I’m really in a hurry…”

I realize I’ve been staring and quickly snap out of it. “Sorry, I’m Lily Grant. I’m a journalist working on a story about the Frost Giants.” I hesitate, unsure how to broach the subject without seeming like a complete creep. “I, uh, couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Carter Knox.”

Isla’s expression immediately shutters. “I’m not interested in talking to the press,” she says firmly, already turning away.

I nod, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “I get that. But I’m not looking for dirt or scandal. I’m trying to write an honest profile of who he really is, behind the tough guy exterior. And, because he won’t talk to me, I’m desperate to find someone who will…”

The undertone in my words is clear: if you care about this guy, give me the scoop, or I’ll find someone who might not be as kind. It’s a dirty trick, but it’s the only one I have, and I’m done playing nice with this guy and the people who know him.

Something in my tone must have resonated with Isla because her stance softens slightly. She runs a hand through her hair in a gesture that reminds me eerily of Knox. She thinks in silence for a long few seconds, then lets out a long sigh.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but Carter’s got his reasons for keeping people at arm’s length. It’s not my place to spill his secrets.”

“I’m not asking for secrets,” I assure her quickly. “Just… a glimpse of the real man. The one who offers to pay bills for another person without hesitation.”

Isla’s posture stiffens. “Carter and I are… friends. He’s been generous with helping my son and me. But I shouldn’t discuss his personal matters.”

I press on, my journalistic instincts kicking into high gear. “Not many athletes would help a one-night stand’s medical bills, and few women who sleep with athletes and end up pregnant keep quiet about it…”

My words land like a blow to her chin. Isla’s eyes flash with a mixture of anger and protectiveness, and it’s clear I’ve struck a nerve. I feel like a real bitch, being so aggressive with this clearly vulnerable woman, but she offers the best chance I’ve had yet to crack the hard shell that surrounds Knox.

“Hey, fuck y—” she starts, then catches herself. “Look, it’s not what you think. Carter isn’t Liam’s father, and I’m not some money grabbing whore.”

The strength of her tone surprises me. Isla has landed a blow back on me, after all. “Go on, please” I say.

“Off the record?” She raises an eyebrow. “Or I walk.”

I nod.

Isla hesitates, clearly wrestling with how much to reveal. “We separated before he got drafted. Right after…” she trails off, a shadow passing over her face.

My heart races. There it is. The hint of something more. “Right after what?”

Isla shakes her head, seeming to catch herself. “His sister died. But Carter’s a good man, and when I approached him, alone and in trouble, he helped.”

“He was close to his sister?” I press, a little. “I know she died in an accident…”

“They were inseparable,” Isla sighs. “He was never the same after she died, and it broke us up as well.”

I nod, processing this information. “So, he’s been supporting you and your son for a while?”

“Not supporting,” Isla corrects firmly. “Helping. There’s a difference. I work hard to provide for Liam, but sometimes… it’s not enough. Carter steps in when we really need it, and I love him for how much he’s helped me, while asking for nothing in return. He’s got a good heart, even if he doesn’t always show it. But he’s also carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders. Weight that shouldn’t be his to bear.”

I lean in, hanging on her every word. “What do you mean?”

Isla shakes her head, a sad smile playing at her lips. “That’s not my story to tell. But I will say this: Carter is a far better man than he lets anyone see. He’s been there for me and my son when no one else was, expecting nothing in return. Whatever image he projects to the world, that’s the Carter Knox I’ve always known.”

I feel a lump forming in my throat. This glimpse into Knox’s hidden depths is more than I’d hoped for, but it also leaves me with a thousand new questions. Before I can ask anything else, Isla’s phone buzzes. She glances at it, her expression softening into a mother’s worried smile.

“I’ve got to go,” she says, already backing away. “Just… be kind to Carter, okay? He doesn’t deserve to have his life ripped apart.”

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving me standing there with my head spinning and my heart racing. I’d come looking for a scoop and instead found myself questioning everything I thought I knew about Knox, his role on the team, his family life, and his complex past.

“Well, great,” I say, shaking my head.