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

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

LILY

M y legs are stiff from the long journey as I step off the team bus. The familiar sight of Omaha’s skyline is a welcome change after several weeks on the road. As I scan the parking lot, a flash of hot pink catches my eye.

"Lil! Over here, babe!"

I groan inwardly. There’s Jess, waving enthusiastically and dressed in what could only be described as stripper chic. Her crop top barely contains her assets, and her miniskirt leaves little to the imagination.

"Jesus, Jess," I mutter under my breath as I make my way over, then smile at her. "Did you forget pants today?"

Ignoring my question, she engulfs me in a hug, squealing, "God, I missed you! How was the trip? Did you uncover all of Carter Knox’s dirty secrets?"

I stiffen at the mention of Carter’s name, memories of our late-night encounter flooding back. "Shh! Keep your voice down," I hiss.

But it’s too late. The team has started filing off the bus, and Jess’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Ooh, introduce me," she chirps.

"Jess…" I sigh.

Before I can stop her, Jess is sashaying towards the players, her hips swaying dangerously. "Hi," she purrs. "I’m Jess, Lily’s bestie."

I watch in horror as Jess works her way through the team, shaking hands and dropping flirtatious comments like confetti. Most of the guys seem amused, some even flirting back. Tank even gives me a wink and a thumbs up.

Then Carter emerges from the bus.

The easy atmosphere evaporates as he approaches, his face an impenetrable mask. Jess, oblivious to the sudden tension, turns her megawatt smile on him.

"And you must be the infamous Carter Knox," she says, extending her hand. "Lily’s told me so much about you."

Carter’s eyes flick to me, then back to Jess. He shakes her hand briefly, his expression never changing. "Has she now?" he says, his voice flat.

Jess’s smile falters for a moment, clearly thrown by his icy demeanor. She glances at me, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

I clear my throat, desperate to diffuse the awkwardness. "Uh, yeah. Jess, this is Carter. Carter, my friend Jess."

"Charmed," Carter says, his tone suggesting he’s anything but. Without another word, he shoulders his bag and strides off towards the parking lot.

Jess watches him go, then turns to me with wide eyes. "Wow," she whispers. "You weren’t kidding about the whole brooding vibe. What’s his deal?"

I sigh, suddenly exhausted. "It’s… complicated."

We walk in silence to her car, and I slump into the passenger seat, grateful to escape the gaze of the players. But the respite is only brief because as soon as Jess slides behind the wheel, I know I’m in for an interrogation.

"Okay, spill," she demands, turning to face me. "What the hell was that about with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody?"

I groan, rubbing my temples. "Can we not do this right now? I’m exhausted."

"Nuh-uh," Jess says, shaking her head. "You don’t get to drop a bomb like that and then clam up. Something happened between you two."

I try deflecting. "Speaking of details, what’s with the outfit? Did you raid a stripper’s closet on your way here?"

Jess glances down at her barely there ensemble and grins. "Don’t change the subject. Spill."

I sigh, knowing I will not win this battle. "Fine. But can we at least get moving? I need a shower and about twelve days of sleep."

Jess starts the car, but her eyes keep darting to me as she pulls out of the parking lot. "So…?" she prompts.

"It’s complicated," I repeat, then find myself spilling everything.

The plan to go around Carter and get close to his teammates…

What I’d seen at his mom’s house…

The conversation with Isla…

"Ooh, family drama and secret meetings?" Jess grins. "Juicy!"

I roll my eyes. "I think… he’s hiding something big."

"In his pants?" Jess presses. "I don’t doubt it…"

I hesitate, then blurt out, "We kissed, Jess."

Jess slams on the brakes, earning a chorus of honks. "You what?!"

"Jesus!" I yelp, gripping the dashboard. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

She waves off my concern. "Never mind that. You kissed Carter Knox?"

I feel my cheeks flush as I recount the late-night practice session, the conversation on the ice, and the moment everything changed. The kiss. The roaming hands…

"That’s… wow," Jess breathes. "I bet he’s a great kisser. All that pent-up brooding energy…"

"Jess!" I groan, burying my face in my hands.

"What?" She pauses, studying my face. "Wait a minute. You’re actually upset about this, aren’t you?"

I nod miserably. "Jess. I screwed up. I’m a joke to my profession, and now Carter’s shut down. I’ve ruined any chance I had of getting him to trust me and give me a story, and for what? A moment of titillation?"

"But what a moment…" Jess gives a teasing smile, then realizes the tone is wrong. "It’s not the end of the world, Lil. It happens."

"Not to journalists who are supposed to be objective," I mutter.

"Look," Jess says, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "You’re a brilliant reporter, Lil. One kiss doesn’t change that. And maybe… maybe this will help you understand Carter better. You know, get past that tough guy exterior and to the soft mushy center."

I snort. "Yeah, right. You saw him today. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough."

Jess purses her lips, thinking. "Well, then you’ll just have to find another way in. You’re resourceful, babe. You’ll figure it out."

I sink into silence for the rest of the ride home, grateful for Jess’s company but needing a moment. The events of the past few weeks swirl in my head like a tornado, and I can’t seem to grab onto a single coherent thought.

As soon as we get to our apartment, I mumble a quick "thanks" to Jess and retreat to my room, locking the door behind me. I need space, time to process everything that had happened.

The kiss with Carter, the family drama I’d witnessed, the walls he’d built back up… it’s all too much. And, worse than all that, the looming deadline, tick-tick-tick…

I flop onto my bed, burying my face in my pillow. Just as I’m contemplating the merits of screaming into the fabric, my phone buzzes. I groan, fumbling for it without lifting my head.

"Hello?" I mumble, my voice muffled by the pillow.

"Lily? It’s Frank. Got a minute?"

I sit up, my stomach instantly knotting. Frank Pearson, my editor at the Star, rarely calls unless it’s important. And given the mess I’d made, I have a feeling this will not be a pleasant conversation.

"Sure, Frank," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "What’s up?"

"How’s the Knox story coming?" he asks, not bothering with small talk. "Your first piece was good, but we’re going to need something meatier soon…"

I swallow hard. "I’m… working on it," I lie, my mind racing. "There’s more to Carter than meets the eye. I just need a little more time to?—

"Time isn’t a luxury we have, kid," Frank cuts in, his gruff voice tinged with an edge I don’t like. "Things are tight. We need this series to be a hit."

My stomach drops. "What do you mean, ‘tight’?"

Frank sighs, and I can practically see him rubbing his temples. "Look, there’s talk of potential layoffs. Nothing’s set in stone, but…"

The rest of his words fade into a dull roar as panic sets in. Layoffs? I’d worked my ass off to get this far, and now it could all come crashing down because I couldn’t crack one stubborn hockey player?

"Lily? Are you still there?"

I snap back to attention. "Yeah, sorry. I’m here."

"Listen, I know Knox is a tough nut to crack. But you’re good at what you do. Find an angle, dig deeper. We need a smash hit to keep your job safe."

"Right," I say weakly. "I’ll… I’ll figure something out."

"That’s what I like to hear. Keep me posted."

The line goes dead, and I let the phone slip from my fingers onto the bed. My mind is reeling. How am I supposed to dig deeper when Carter has completely shut me out? And even if I could, how could I justify destroying his personal life for the sake of my career?

I flop back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The weight of everything– the kiss, the secrets, and now the threat to my job – presses down on me like a physical force. I need a plan, and fast. But as I lay there, my thoughts a jumbled mess, I come up with an idea to at least keep me busy.

"No harm finding the story, is there?" I mutter to myself. "I don’t need to publish it, and it might tell me more about Carter…"

With a heavy sigh, I open my laptop and begin my research. The weight of Frank’s words hangs over me like a storm cloud, but I can’t shake the image of Carter’s vulnerable expression that night at the rink. Still, I have a job to do, and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m curious about what I might find.

I start with the basics of his junior career and family, which I’d already looked through when first given the assignment: fluff pieces about his rise to hockey stardom, with the occasional mention of his supportive parents. Nothing earth-shattering there.

But then I dig deeper. My preliminary research on his family had only been for information, because I thought the story was him and here and now, not them and then and there. Yet, as I chase this rabbit down the hole, I start to think there’s even more than Carter had revealed at the rink that night…

I find an old article from Carter’s hometown newspaper. "Local Hockey Prodigy Faces Family Tragedy," the headline reads. The article is vague, mentioning a "terrible accident" that had claimed the life of Carter’s sister, Sarah. It praises the family’s strength in the face of adversity.

I run a hand through my hair. Something about the article feels… off. It’s too polished, too careful in its wording. "What am I missing?" I say.

I keep following leads and cross-referencing dates. Slowly, a picture emerges that makes my stomach churn. There are whispers of a cover-up, veiled references to "inconsistencies" in the official report. One old message board post even suggests that Carter had been involved in the accident somehow.

The more I find, the more convinced I become. The court transcripts from his father’s trial are brief. Carter’s father had entered a guilty plea for the raft of dangerous driving charges arrayed against him, sparing his family a lengthy trial, but also leaving key evidence out of the public eye.

There are plenty of loose ends that feel like they’d been tied up, but I wonder if they’d come loose if I gave them a tug and started talking to people…

My hands hover over the keyboard, trembling slightly. If I’m right, then this is the story – the big, meaty exposé Frank is looking for. It could cement my reputation and open up a world of opportunity for me.

But at what cost?

I think back to that night at the rink, the raw pain in Carter’s eyes as he opened up to me, even a little. The way his walls had come crashing down, if only for a moment, and then that kiss…

"Fuck," I whisper, pushing away from my desk. This feels wrong. Every instinct I have as a reporter is screaming at me to pursue this lead, to uncover the truth. But my heart? My heart is telling me something else entirely.

I pace my small bedroom, my mind racing. What am I supposed to do with this information? Keep digging and potentially destroy Carter’s life? Keep it to myself and risk losing my job? Neither option feels right to me.

A soft knock at my door startles me out of my spiral. "Lil?" Jess calls. "You okay in there? You’ve been awfully quiet."

"I’m fine," I say, but fail to hold in a pathetic sob.

The door opens, and Jess takes one look at my face and pulls me into a hug. "Oh, honey. What’s wrong?"

As we sit on my bed, I spill everything – the research, the hints of a cover-up, my conflicting feelings. Jess listens without judgment, her brow furrowed in concern.

"That’s… a lot," she says when I finish. "What are you going to do?"

I shake my head, feeling utterly lost. "I don’t know, Jess. I really don’t know."