Page 15 of Expose on the Ice

I lean back in my chair, feeling a mix of satisfaction and surprise at how well the interview is going. Knox has finally opened up a little, happy to discuss hockey enough that I’ll get a story out of it. And as his eyes light up as he speaks, I find myself captivated by his passion.

I glance down at my notes. “And after the Mavericks, you’ve got a big game coming up against Minnesota. That’s your hometown team, right?”

The change is instant. Knox’s expression hardens, the walls go back up, his jaw clenches, and his eyes turn cold. Any warmth that had existed between us just a moment ago is extinguished, as if the bartender had poured water all over the two of us.

“We’re done here,” he says, his voice flat.

I blink, surprised. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

Knox stands up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I told you, no personal questions. I was an idiot to trust you. We’re done.”

“Wait, Carter,” I say, scrambling to my feet, and scrambling for what to say. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was just asking about the game?—”

“Save it,” he snaps, already turning away. “This interview is over.”

“Okay,” I say, trying to salvage things. “We can resch?—”

“No, we’redone.”

I watch, stunned, as Knox storms out of the bar, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open. I sink back into my chair, my mind racing. One minute we were having an easy conversation – nothing groundbreaking, butsomeprogress, at least – and the next…

I rub my temples, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened. “Shit,” I say.

“Everything okay over here?” the bartender asks from behind the main bar, eyeing me with concern.

I force a smile. “Yeah, just… a misunderstanding, I guess.”

“Well, any man who walks out on you is a fool, miss,” he says, then turns back to his work.

As I gather my things, I can’t shake the image of Knox’s face when I’d mentioned Minnesota. There had been more than just anger in his eyes. I’d seen pain, and maybe even fear. I feel frustrated and angry again, like after the last interview, but this time, I also feel intrigued.

What is Carter hiding?

What had happened in Minnesota?

I’m going to find out, but I’m done askinghim…

CHAPTER 6

LILY

The first part of finding out is watching him play with my own eyes.

As I settle into my seat in the press box of Baxter Arena, notepad in hand, I survey the scene. The place is packed, a sea of blue and white jerseys as far as the eye can see. The energy is electric, fans buzzing with anticipation for the face-off against the Kansas City Mavericks. The familiar scent of popcorn and beer wafts through the air, mingling with the crisp chill from the ice below.

As the teams take to the ice, my eyes immediately find Knox. Even in warm-ups, he stands out – tall, broad-shouldered, radiating an intensity that is palpable even from a distance. His presence commands attention, and I am eager to see him in action.

The game starts, and within minutes, it is clear something is off with Knox. The Mavericks are an expansion team – terrible, poorly coached, filled with aging castoffs from other teams. Yet, against a team that should be easy prey, I watch Knox constantly fumble passes, miss shots, and seem a moment behind the play.

Throughout the first period, the crowd’s excitement slowly morphs into concern, then palpable frustration. It seems likethere is tension among the Frost Giants players as well, with sideways glances, hands thrown into the air when a mistake is made, and audible cursing. And it seems like much of the fan and player frustration is directed at Knox and his mistakes.

“Come on, Knox!” a fan near the press box shouts. “Get in the game!”

I scribble notes furiously, trying to make sense of what I am witnessing. This isn’t the star player whose highlight reels I’ve watched countless times. Yet even as he struggles, I can’t take my eyes off him. There is something captivating about watching him fight through his difficulties, a raw determination, an unstoppable power.

At the first period break, as he leaves the ice, Knox takes off his helmet, and I can see his jaw is set in determination. Sweat glistens on his forehead as his chest heaves from exertion, and I find myself admiring the way his uniform clings to his body, outlining his broad chest and–

Jesus, Lily, get it together,I chide myself, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.You’re here to work, not ogle the eye candy.

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