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

Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

CARTER

M y legs barely hold me up as I stumble into the men’s bathroom. The door swings shut behind me, muffling the sounds of the charity ball – the chatter, the soft music. All of it fades away as I grip the edge of the sink, my knuckles turning white, and stare at a guilty man in the mirror.

My reflection stares back at me, a stranger with haunted eyes and a clenched jaw. I hardly recognize myself. I let out a lengthy sigh. "What now, Carter?"

The article.

Those details.

My past laid bare for the world to see.

How could this be happening?

As I’d moved away from Lily and the reporter who’d cornered me, I’d quickly read the article on the Star’s website using my phone. It had all been there. The accident. Sarah. Isla. My family. How I’d pushed myself to the breaking point on the ice, trying to escape the memories.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the words from that damn article are burned into my brain.

At least there was nothing about the cover-up, but that feels like a small win. My stomach churns as I remember the reporter’s questions earlier. The knowing look in his eyes. He’d known everything. Things nobody except my family and my agent knew… and Lily.

Talking to me on the ice.

Talking to my teammates.

Stalking me to my mom’s house.

Somehow getting in touch with Isla.

Watching me.

Always. Fucking. Watching. Me.

"Idiot," I growl at my reflection.

I think back to the warning from Uncle Pete, the cryptic warning about someone snooping around back home. It must have been Lily, digging right before the story was finalized, talking to people who knew me before Sarah died and before I became this version of myself.

My fist connects with the mirror before I even realize I’ve moved. Pain shoots through my hand, but I welcome it. It’s better than the ache in my chest, the feeling of betrayal that threatens to suffocate me. I’d let her in. I’d kissed her. I’d touched her. I’d fantasized about fucking her.

And all along, she’d been planning this.

To use me.

The bathroom door creaks open, and I whirl around, ready to snarl at whoever dares to intrude. But it’s just some drunk guy who takes one look at my face and backs out quickly, muttering an apology and clearly sensing my rage.

I turn back to the cracked mirror, watching a drop of blood from my knuckles trail down the fractured glass. It’s fitting, really. Everything is broken now. My carefully constructed walls, the hurt I’d tried my best to conceal, the image I’d worked to maintain – all of it shattered by a story in a newspaper.

And Lily…

Tonight, for a moment, I’d thought there might be something there. Something real. But it had all been a lie. Every question, every look, every touch – it was all just part of her game. Her way of getting the story she wanted.

I let out a bitter laugh. I should have known better. Trust no one. That had been my motto for years. I’d told myself to be careful around her, and I’d been an idiot. The one time I’d let my guard down, and it might have cost me everything.

The sound of the party filters through the door again, reminding me where I am. I can’t hide in here forever, as much as I want to. I have to go back out there, face the music, plaster on a fake smile for the cameras.

But first…

I pull out my phone. It’s filled with dozens of messages from my mother, from my agent, from teammates wondering where I’d run off to. I ignore them all. I want nothing to do with any of them right now.

My fingers hover over Lily’s name in my contacts. I know I should delete it, block her number and cut all ties. But that wouldn’t be enough. I’d also have to refuse to work with her, no matter how much Mark huffs and puffs at me.

Instead, I type out a message:

"Hope you got what you wanted."

I know it’s petty, but it makes me feel a little better. That done, I push through the bathroom door, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. The cacophony of the charity event hits me like a wall. It grates on my nerves, amplifying the rage coursing through my veins.

I need to get out. Now.

I make a beeline for the exit, pushing past well-wishers and rich assholes, my eyes fixed on the double doors that promise escape. I think I might make it, too, nobody powerful enough to stop me in my tracks managing to intercept me, until–

"Carter! There you are!" A hand claps my shoulder. It’s Mark, our team manager, his smile strained as he leans in close. "Where have you been?"

I grunt, shouldering past him. "I’m leaving."

"Carter, wait?—

But I’m already moving, pushing through the crowd. I can feel eyes on me, hear the whispers, sense the unease. They all know. They’ve all read that article already. They all know things about me I’d tried to keep hidden.

"Mr. Knox! Can we get a statement about?—

"Not now," I growl.

I’m almost there, freedom just steps away, when I see her.

Lily.

She stands near the entrance, talking to someone on the phone. Her eyes go wide as they meet mine, and she quickly terminates the call she’s on. The sight of her ignites a fury in me and, before I know it, I’m advancing on her, my vision tunneling until all I can see is her face.

"How could you?" I snarl, my voice low and dangerous. I’m vaguely aware of people around us stopping, staring, but I don’t care.

Lily takes a step back, her hands raised placatingly. "Carter, please, we should go somewhere quiet and I can explain?—

"Save it," I spit, cutting her off. "This is exactly why I keep people at arm’s length."

The words taste bitter on my tongue, laced with pain and betrayal. I can see the hurt flash in her eyes, but it only fuels my anger. How dare she act wounded when she’s the one who’d stabbed me in the back?

"I didn’t write that article," Lily protests, her voice barely above a whisper. "I swear, Carter, I had no idea?—

"No idea?" I laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. "You’ve been digging into my past for weeks. Talking to my teammates, following me to my mom’s house, talking to my ex…"

Lily flinches at my words, and I see tears welling in her eyes. Part of me wants to stop, to hear her out, but the larger part – the part that’s been betrayed and exposed – won’t let me. I’m incandescent with a fury fueled by fear and sorrow, and she’s the best possible target.

"I trusted you," I hiss, leaning in close. "I let you in, and this is how you repay me? By airing my dirty laundry for the world to see? My family and I have suffered enough for that accident. My sister – the greatest person I’ve ever known – deserves to be spared your tabloid bullshit."

I clench my fists, my whole body shaking with rage as I glare at Lily. Her eyes are wide, the tears now starting to spill over, but I can’t bring myself to care. The pain of betrayal burns too hot, evaporating any drop of sympathy.

"Carter, please," Lily pleads, her voice barely above a whisper. "I would never?—

"No!" I bellow.

"Carter, man, everything okay here?"

I whirl around to see Tank approaching. Although he has a casual smile on his face, it’s far from friendly. He glances between Lily and me, clearly sensing the tension, and probably worried about what I might do at a public event.

"Get lost, Tank," I snap, barely sparing him a glance. "This doesn’t concern you."

Tank hesitates, shifting his weight nervously. "Are you sure? Because it looks like?—

"I said get lost!" I roar, my patience finally snapping.

Tank raises his hands in surrender and backs away, watching from a respectful distance, and leaving Lily and me alone once more. I turn back to her, my jaw clenched so tight it aches, and it takes all my willpower not to explode further.

"We’re done," I say instead, my voice cold and final. The words taste like ash in my mouth, but I force them out anyway. "No more interviews. No more access. No more tricking me into thinking you give a shit. No more making me feel feelings that are total bullshit. No more dresses. No more cleavage. No more flirting."

"Carter," she sobs. "I?—

"You got your story. Now leave me alone."

Lily’s face crumples, a tear finally escaping and trailing down her cheek. For a split second, I feel a pang of regret, an urge to reach out and comfort her. But I squash it ruthlessly, reminding myself of the pain her actions have caused.

"I mean it, Lily," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "Stay away from me, my family, my team, and my past . If I see you sniffing around for more dirt, I’ll make sure you never work in sports journalism again. I will make it my life’s work to destroy you."

"Carter, please," Lily pleads, reaching out to touch my arm, her sobs turning into heaving gasps.

I jerk away as if her touch burns. "Don’t," I warn, my voice cracking slightly. "Just… don’t."