Page 55 of Expose on the Ice

The dam breaks. Words pour out of me in a jumbled mess – the story, Carter’s accusation, Frank’s betrayal. Jess listens, her expression growing darker with each revelation, the heaviness of the moment impacting even her deep reserves of pep and sass.

"Someone stole my notes," I say, my voice cracking. "God, the look on Carter’s face. He thinks I betrayed him. But I didn’t write it, Jess."

Jess wraps an arm around my shoulders. "Any idea who leaked your stuff?"

I shake my head and lean into her embrace, grateful for her support. "I don’t know what to do. I want to grab my big shot, but… I don’t want to hurt him."

"Oh, honey," Jess sighs. "You’ve got it bad, don’t you?"

I nod miserably. "I think I do. And now he hates me."

"He doesn’t hate you," Jess says firmly. "He’s hurt and lashing out. Give him time to cool down."

"What about my career? Frank used my notes without my permission. Not to mention, I don’t know how he got them!"

Jess squeezes me tight. "Right now, we need to focus on clearing your name with Carter, if he’s what you really want."

"I don’t know what I want." I shake my head. "I don’t know if I can face Frank, or Carter, or Mark, or the team. Maybe I should just quit. Hide in here."

"Lily Grant," Jess says, gripping my shoulders. "You are not a quitter. You’re going to get up, take a shower, and then we’ll figure this out. Together."

CARTER

I wake with a pounding headache, the events of last night hitting me like a tidal wave. Indiana. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the memories, but they persist. What the hell had I been thinking? How did I think that would make thingsbetter?

The charity event, the article, confronting Lily, and then… Indiana. I’d been hurt by Lily, overwhelmed by the situation and what it meant for my family and my future, and then I’d acted like a complete jackass. It was loss of control that was unusual for me.

My phone buzzes insistently on the nightstand. Reluctantly, I reach for it, squinting at the screen. Missed calls from my agent, Coach Carson, and half the team.

I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and dropping my head into my hands. The room spins slightly, a reminder of how much I’d had to drink last night. As if I needed another reason to feel like shit.

My agent’s voicemail is first. "Carter, call me back immediately. We need to get ahead of this story. I’ve got PR working on a statement, but we need to talk."

Delete.

Next is a text from Tank. "Are you okay, man? That article was rough. We’ve got your back, no matter what, dude."

Delete.

I’m not ready to deal with any of it. Everything I’d tried so hard to keep buried had been dragged into the light, painted in the most sensational way possible. And it was Lily’s fault.

Lily.

Despite everything, my finger hovers over her contact. Part of me wants to call her, to hear her voice and… what? Yell some more? Hope like hell she has an explanation?

I’m not even sure.

But I can’t do it. Not yet. The anger and hurt are still too raw, even if a small voice in the back of my mind whispers that maybe, just maybe, I’d overreacted. Maybe, just maybe, there’s another explanation.

I flop back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. No matter how I look at it, I’d only made things worse. Pushing Lily away, sleeping with Indiana – it was all just running from the real problem.

The past I’d never truly dealt with.

My sister’s face flashes in my mind, and I feel the familiar ache in my chest. Sarah. God, I miss her. And now everyone knows. Well, they know part of it, anyway. The article hadn’t unearthed everything, but it had gotten enough.

I grab my phone again, scrolling through the notifications. More missed calls, texts from teammates offering support, and… a voicemail from my mother. Shit. I can’t bring myself to listen to it. Instead, I stare at Lily’s contact again. Despite everything, I can’t shake the memory of that night at the rink.

The way she’d listened, really listened, without judgment.

---