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

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

CARTER

M y mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as I pace the length of my apartment. The city lights twinkle beyond my window, a stark contrast to the darkness I feel inside. I stop at the window, staring out at the Omaha skyline without really seeing it. My reflection stares back at me.

And, for a moment, I swear I see Sarah’s face superimposed over mine.

My little sister, forever frozen at eighteen.

I’d lied to the rest of the press, stuck to the story we’d concocted all those years ago. But with Lily… I’d spilled my guts like some lovesick teenager. The truth I’d been carrying for years is out there now, the same truth I’d just lied about to a room full of reporters. It’s like a grenade with its pin pulled.

And she’s holding it.

With one action, she could blow it all to smithereens. My whole life, my career, my identity would be destroyed. Not only that. Everyone else who was involved in the cover-up of the circumstances surrounding Sarah’s death would be dragged down as well – my agent, the local cops, my family.

They’d trusted me to keep the secret safe because it benefited me and protected them, and I’d let them down. Part of me wants to call Lily, to beg her to forget everything I’d said. But another part… Christ, another part feels lighter than I have in years.

It’s out there now.

My deepest, darkest secret.

The burden I’d carried alone for so long.

I close my eyes, and Sarah’s face flashes in my mind. Her bright smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. The sound of her voice, teasing me about my latest crush or cheering me on from the stands. And then… the sickening crunch of metal. Sarah’s lifeless body, blood matting her blonde hair.

As I slump onto the sofa, I realize something. I’d never really dealt with what happened. I’d pushed it down, buried it under hockey. I’d let the guilt fester, rotting me from the inside out. It had been a poison, mutating me into something I never wanted to be.

But Lily… she’s the antidote.

The way she’d looked at me in that elevator. There’d been no judgment in her eyes. Just understanding. Compassion. For the first time in years, I’d felt a flicker of something dangerously close to hope. Maybe, just maybe, someone could see past the facade I’d built. See me for who I really am – flaws, guilt, and all.

I’d dangled the truth like a carrot, for either a future together or the scoop of a lifetime. It’s up to her how she uses it. The thought utterly terrifies and exhilarates me at the same time. If I’d calculated wrong, and Lily publishes what I’d told her, my career would be over. But I’d also have my answer. About her. About us.

But if she doesn’t…

As the thought – and the possibility – washes through me, my eyes land on a framed photo I keep hidden in my closet. It’s of Sarah and me, arms slung around each other, grinning at the camera after one of my high school games. I’d won MVP that night, and Sarah had been so proud.

I pick up the frame, my throat tightening. "I’m sorry, Sar," I whisper. "I’m so sorry."

For the first time in years, I let myself really feel the loss. The grief I’d bottled up for so long comes pouring out, and I sink to the floor, clutching the photo to my chest as sobs wrack my body. Because, most of all, I know she wouldn’t like this version of her brother very much at all.

And neither do I.

LILY

As I sit at my desk, staring at the blank document on my laptop, Carter’s words from the elevator play on repeat in my mind, each syllable etched into my memory. The raw pain in his voice had been unmistakable. I close my eyes, recalling the vulnerable look on his face as he’d laid bare his deepest secret.

It’s a far cry from the man I’d been dealing with for weeks.

My gaze drifts to the notepad beside me, filled with scribbled details about the accident, the cover-up, the guilt that had been eating away at Carter for years. The story of the century is right there in front of me, complete with an admission of guilt from the man at the center of the conspiracy, ripe for the taking.

But at what cost?

I think back to our first disastrous interview, how Carter had shut down at the mere mention of his family. Now I understand why. The weight he’d been carrying… it’s almost unfathomable. People had sacrificed themselves to give him his future, yet he’d never really dealt with the grief that chased him even now.

My fingers hover over the keyboard, but I can’t type a word. The journalist in me screams to write, to grab this opportunity for the career-defining piece I’d been chasing. But another part of me, a part that wants Carter, whispers that some stories aren’t meant to be told.

Carter’s last words in the elevator ring in my ears: "If what I’ve told you ends up in the paper, I’ll have my answer about how you feel."

It’s a challenge, but I already know. The truth is, I’d known for a while now. Despite his prickly exterior, despite all the walls he’d put up, I’ve fallen for him. Hard. So, before I can second-guess myself, I grab my phone and dial his number. It rings, then he picks up, his gruff voice coming through the line.

"Lily?"

I take a deep breath. "Carter, we need to talk. Can you meet me?"

There’s a pause. "Text me your address. I’ll be right over."

The line goes dead, and I stare at my phone in disbelief.

He’s coming here?

Now?

Panic sets in as I glance around my messy apartment. Clothes are strewn over the back of my couch, and dirty dishes fill the sink. I’d been so consumed with the story – with Carter – that I’d let everything else slide.

I fire off a quick text with my address, then scramble to make the place somewhat presentable. As I shove a pile of laundry into my closet, my eyes land on the notepad on my desk. The one filled to the brim with Carter’s secrets.

For a moment, I hesitate. Then, decision made, I run to the kitchen sink and use some matches to set it alight. As I watch it burn, I smile. Whatever happens next, it won’t be because of what was written on those pages, it will be because of what’s in our hearts.

A while later, when I’ve mostly finished my rushed tidy job around the apartment, there’s a knock on the door. My breath catches in my throat because the idea of Carter coming to my place is different to Carter being here.

I open the door, my heart pounding as Carter stands before me. His eyes are red-rimmed, and he looks as exhausted as I feel. We stare at each other for a long moment before I step aside to let him inside my place.

"Thanks for coming, Carter" I say softly, closing the door behind him. "It’s good to see you."

Carter nods, his gaze sweeping around my apartment before settling back on me. "You said we needed to talk."

I take a breath, steeling myself, then I meet his eyes, willing him to see the sincerity in mine. "I won’t publish your story, Carter. Not the real one."

His brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

I sink onto the couch, gesturing for him to join me. As he sits, I continue, "I’ve been struggling with this assignment. The pressure to deliver a scoop, the fear of losing my job if I didn’t…" I shake my head. "But after what you told me in the elevator, I realized my career isn’t worth ruining your life over."

Carter’s expression softens and he sits, relief washing over his face. "Lily, I?—

I hold up a hand, needing to get this out. "Let me finish, please. If succeeding means betraying someone’s trust and exposing their deepest pain… that’s not the journalist I want to be. I found out about the cover-up long before you told me, and you telling me would make it a slam dunk, but I’m burying it."

I watch as Carter processes my words, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. "What about your job?" he asks quietly.

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. "Oh, I’ll probably lose it. Frank’s been breathing down my neck for weeks, and without this story…" I shrug. "But I can live with that. I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you more than you have been already by the leak of my notes."

His head tilts, curious. "Who leaked your notes?"

"I don’t know," I say. "Someone on the team. Or someone around the team, at least. Only the contents of the notepad I carry in my bag made it into the story, whereas the one I keep at home – which had all the details about the cover-up, and I’ve now destroyed – didn’t."

He takes in the information without speaking, then nods. "We’ll handle that later."

"Okay," I say. "Carter, I need you to know I’m so?—

"Enough apologizing," Carter cuts me off, reaching out, hesitantly taking my hand in his. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through me. "You didn’t write the story, and you’re not responsible for someone stealing your notepad. We’ll figure out what comes next together, including a way to keep your career intact."

Relief washes over me like a warm summer rain. Maybe, just maybe, I can have it all – Carter and my career. The thought of finding another story, with his help no less, sends a thrill of excitement through me. Because, despite not wanting to hurt him, I do still want to have my career.

I look up at Carter, my heart pounding. His eyes, usually so guarded, are open and vulnerable. Before I can overthink it, I lean in and press my lips to his. The kiss is electric, igniting every nerve ending in my body.

Carter holds back at first, clearly deciding how he wants to respond to my sudden action, but then his hand cups my face and his thumb gently caresses my cheek as he deepens the kiss. I melt into him, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

Our lips move together with a desperate intensity, as if we’re trying to make up for all the lost time and misunderstandings. My hands can’t stay still, roaming over the smooth planes of his back, the hard muscles tensing beneath his shirt. The sensation of his warmth seeps through, branding my fingertips.

I gasp as his hands begin to explore, sliding over my waist and down to my hips. His touch is possessive, commanding, like he can’t get enough, like he’s claiming me. One hand slides up my side, brushing the curve of my breast, and my breath hitches as heat pools low in my belly.

Carter deepens the kiss, his tongue stroking against mine in a way that makes my knees weak. I can taste the mingling flavors of desperation and need, and it drives me wild. My nails scrape lightly over his back, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest. The sound makes me ache for more.

His other hand moves down my back, squeezing my ass possessively before pulling me closer. Our bodies mold together, the hard length of his erection pressing against my thigh, making me gasp into his mouth. The friction is delicious, a promise of what’s to come.

He moves his lips to my neck, nibbling and sucking, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. "I’ve waited for this," he whispers.

I can’t hold back a moan as his teeth graze my pulse point. My hips move instinctively against him, seeking more of that intoxicating friction. Carter’s hands roam over me, one tracing the line of my bra strap before slipping beneath the material to cup my breast.

"Oh, Carter," I breathe, my voice a mix of need and impatience.

His touch is electrifying, his thumb brushing over my nipple until it hardens, straining against the fabric. It’s an exquisite torture, making me crave more, to crave him, making my wetness flow between my thighs.

He moves his lips back to mine, kissing me fiercely, his hand still working wonders on my breast. The sensations overwhelm me, each touch, each kiss, sending pleasure cascading through my body. My hands find their way to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, needing to feel his skin against mine.

Carter pulls back just enough to help me, his eyes dark with desire as he yanks the shirt over his head. The sight of his bare chest – broad, muscled, and scarred – makes my mouth water. I reach out, running my hands over the hard ridges of his abs, feeling the heat of his skin.

"God, Lily," he murmurs, his voice husky with want.

He pulls me back into a bruising kiss, his hands exploring the length of my body, igniting fires everywhere he touches. My hips move against him, desperate for contact, feeling his hardness straining against the constraints of his jeans.

My hands aren’t idle, traveling down his torso to the waistband of his pants. I hesitate only a moment before slipping a hand inside, grasping the hot, thick length of him. I start to work it. Slow. Carter groans, his hips jerking into my hand, and the power of that reaction makes me dizzy.

Carter’s hand slides down my body. Each touch feels electric, sparking a fire that pools in my belly. When his fingers reach the waistband of my jeans, they don’t falter. He unbuttons them with ease, sliding the zipper down. My breath hitches, chest tight with anticipation.

He locks eyes with me, his expression burning with lust and something else, something softer and deeper. I can’t bear to look away. As his hand slips inside my panties, the sensation of the roughness of his fingers against the sensitive skin of my lower belly makes me gasp.

When his fingers find my clit, my breath catches. "That feels…" I can’t even finish my sentence.

It feels heavenly.

It makes me ache for him even more.

As my eyes practically beg him for more, he slides a finger deep inside me. The warmth, the fullness – it’s so immediate, so intimate. I can’t control the moan that escapes my lips. I move my hips, meeting his touch, urging him deeper.

As I continue to work his cock, slowly, methodically, his finger curls inside me, finding a spot that makes my legs weak. He adds another finger, stretching me, filling me. His thumb finds my clit again, rubbing in slow, firm circles that make me see stars.

Each movement is precise, his rhythm perfect.

But just as I’m on the verge of exploding, the sound of a key in the lock makes us spring apart like guilty teenagers. Jess comes through the door, her arms laden with grocery bags. She stops short at the sight of us, disheveled and breathing heavily on the couch, having only just extracted our hands and covered our parts.

"Well, well, well," she drawls, a knowing smirk spreading across her face. "What exactly do we have here?"

I feel my cheeks burn as I try to smooth down my rumpled shirt, aware my jeans – and his pants – are still unbuttoned. "Jess, um, remember Carter?"

Carter clears his throat, looking adorably flustered. "Hey, nice to see you again."

Jess’s eyes dart between us, her grin widening. "Oh, I definitely remember Carter. Though I don’t think I’ve ever seen him quite so… ruffled."

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

She laughs, heading towards the kitchen with her groceries. "Don’t mind me, lovebirds."

As Jess disappears into the kitchen, I turn back to Carter. His hair is sticking up at odd angles where I’d run my fingers through it, and his lips are slightly swollen from our kisses. He looks utterly irresistible.

"So," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "That was…"

"Yeah," Carter agrees, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It was."

We stare at each other for a moment, the air between us crackling with tension. Then, as if mutually deciding the best way forward, we both let out a desperate, longing breath. Even as every fiber of my being screams to pick up right where we left off, I hesitate.

"Maybe we should take things slow," I suggest, "There’s a lot going on."

Carter nods, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "You’re right. No rushing."

I lean into him, and we hug for hours.

It’s almost as good as his touch.