Page 89 of Expose on the Ice

After she leaves, I reach for my phone. Carter’s name sits at the top of my contacts, his goofy profile picture – taken during a rare moment of lightness – staring back at me. My thumb hovers over the call button.

One touch. That’s all it would take to hear his voice again. But Frank’s threat echoes in my mind, along with the memory of Carter’s face the last time I’d seen him – so hopeful, so trusting. I can’t bear the thought of causing him more pain.

With a shaky breath, I set the phone back down.

CHAPTER 36

LILY

The prestigious logo of the New York Times stares back at me as I sit at my kitchen table, staring at the email on my laptop screen. It is an offer that should have me jumping for joy. It offers a fresh start and a chance to rebuild my career far away from the mess in Omaha.

My finger hovers over "Accept", but I can’t bring myself to click it.

"This is what you wanted," I mutter to myself, running a hand through my unwashed hair. "A real shot at the big leagues."

But even as I say the words, I know they aren’t entirely true.

What Ialsowant is Carter.

I minimize the email and pull up a local news site. Carter’s face stares back at me from the top story, looking haggard and worn. The headline screams about possible criminal charges, his career hanging in the balance.

My chest tightens as I scan the article. The press has crucified him today, like they have every day for the past week and a half, his every move dissected and analyzed. His mother has been hospitalized – a minor heart attack, they say, brought on by the stress.

And now the police are circling, still undecided on whether to press charges for his role in the cover-up. Although opinions vary about whether he could end up in jail for being at the wheel so many years ago, if nothing else it’s trouble Carter doesn’t need.

I ache to go to him, to offer whatever support I can. But Frank’s threat still looms large in my mind. If I show up now, it might only make things worse. Cursing, I close the laptop with more force than necessary, stand up, and pace the small kitchen.

The boxes scattered around the apartment seem to mock me, a physical representation of my indecision. Stay or go? Get in touch with Carter or continue to hide from him to keep him safe? Risk everything or fold my hand?

My eyes land on the framed photo I’d pulled out of a box earlier. It’s from my college graduation, my arm slung around Jess’s shoulders as we both grin at the camera. We look so young, so full of hope and ambition.

I pick up the frame, running my thumb over the glass. That girl in the photo wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have charged headfirst into the fray, consequences be damned. But that girl hadn’t seen her dreams crumble around her, or watched someone she cared about get torn apart in the press.

I set the photo down with a sigh, turning back to the laptop. The job offer still waits, promising a clean slate and a chance to start over without the baggage of the past few months, and at the most prestigious paper in the world, to boot.

But as I reach for the mouse, Carter’s face flashes through my mind again. The warmth in his eyes when he’d finally opened up to me. The way he’d held me that last night, like I was something precious. My hand freezes, caught between two impossible choices.

"Fuck it," I say.

I grab my coat and head out the door, desperate for some fresh air to clear my head. The crisp evening breeze nips at my cheeks as I wander through the streets of Omaha, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

My career aspirations…

The job offer…

Carter’s face…

His touch…

His… everything…

Frank’s threat.

They all swirl together in a dizzying mix that leaves me feeling lost and overwhelmed. It’s been the same for days, my boxes packed, but my mind and heart not yet ready to move on.

Before I know it, I find myself standing in front of Baxter Arena. The familiar roar of the crowd inside tugs at something deep in my chest, awakening a longing I can’t quite explain.

Without really thinking about it, I buy a ticket and slip inside, drawn by an invisible force I can’t resist. As I enter the arena, the electric atmosphere washes over me.

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