Page 11 of Expose on the Ice

I wince, imagining the disappointment in his eyes. He’s given me the chance of a lifetime with this assignment. How would it look if I came crawling back after the very first interview, begging for help after it had gone off the rails?

No, I can’t do it. I won’t. Frank has faith in me, even if it’s buried under layers of gruffness. Something had made him thinkI could handle this gig, and I don’t want to let him down. This is my shot. It’s time to put on my big girl pants and make it work.

I start the car, Frank’s imaginary voice still echoing in my head. As I pull out of the arena’s parking lot, my mind is already churning with ideas. Carter Knox might think he’s won this battle, but the war is far from over.

Game on, asshole.

CARTER

I slam my locker door shut with a resounding bang that echoes through the dressing room. The metallic clang makes a few of my teammates jump, their heads snapping in my direction.

“Whoa, easy there, Knox,” ‘Tank’ Thompson calls out from across the room. “What’d that locker ever do to you?”

I ignore him, yanking my skates from the bottom of the locker with more force than necessary. The laces tangle around my fingers as I wrestle them onto my feet, cursing under my breath.

“Everything okay, man?” Tank asks, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Peachy,” I growl.

As I viciously tug at my laces, I can feel their eyes on me, a mix of curiosity and wariness filling the air. Tank and the others are used to walking on eggshells around me. But let them stare. I don’t owe anyone an explanation.

When my skates are on, I grab my stick and storm out of the locker room, leaving a wake of whispers behind me. The cool air of the practice rink hits me as I step onto the ice, but it does nothing to calm the fire raging inside me.

I take off, my blades cutting into the pristine surface as I push myself harder and faster with each lap. It’s a welcome distraction, but it isn’t enough to silence the voice in my head – her voice, asking all thosedamnquestions.

“What about your family, Carter? Do they come to your games often?”

I grit my teeth, picking up speed. The memory of those green eyes boring into me, searching for cracks in my armor, makes my blood boil. Who the hell does she think she is?

“The accident with your sister… care to comment?”

My stick slaps against the ice as I round the corner, the sound echoing off the empty stands. I’d seen the glint in her eyes when she’d asked all those questions, like a shark smelling blood in the water.

She’d been looking for a reaction and, damn it, I’d given her one.

I can still feel the heat of her body as we’d stood toe-to-toe, her chin tilted up defiantly as she challenged me. For a moment, I’d been surprised by how close she was, how her lips parted slightly as she waited for my answer.

Andthathint of cleavage…

In a single moment of weakness, I’d let my mask slip.

“Fuck!” I shout, the word bouncing off the rafters as I cut to a stop at center ice, spraying snow.

I’ve screwed up. I know it, and worse, she knows it.

I’d let her see that her questions had rattled me, and now she’ll dig and pry until she finds every skeleton in my closet. The image of Sarah’s face flashes through my mind, and I feel my chest tighten. The thought sends a chill down my spine, colder than the ice beneath my skates. I can’t let that happen.

Iwon’t.

I take off again, pushing myself even harder. My lungs burn as I gasp for air, but I welcome the pain. It’s better than thealternative – better than remembering, better than feeling. As I round the far end of the rink, I notice Coach Carson standing by the boards, his arms crossed. Great. Just what I need.

I slow to a stop in front of him, trying to catch my breath. “Just getting in some minutes, Coach.”

“You planning on wearing a groove in my ice, Knox?” he asks, his voice gruff.

I shake my head, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my glove. “Just rusty.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And it has nothing to do with that reporter I saw storming out earlier?”

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