Page 90 of Expose on the Ice

And, for a moment, I feel a sense of belonging I haven’t in weeks.

The game is already underway as I find a seat high in the stands. My eyes immediately seek Carter on the ice, and my breath catches in my throat. Even from this distance, I can see something is off.

Carter’s usual fluid grace is gone, replaced by jerky, unfocused movements. He fumbles a pass, then barely keeps his feet during a routine check. It’s like watching an entirely different player.

"What the hell is Knox doing out there?" a fan behind me grumbles. "Looks like he forgot how to skate."

"Well, he killed his sister, so maybe she’s haunting him from the grave," another fan says, laughing. "Hope they trade him before the cops lock him up."

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to turn around and defend him. They do not know what he’s going through, the pressure he’s under. But then again, neither do I. Not anymore. I’ve cut myself out of his life, thinking it was for the best.

Abandoned him.

As the first period drags on, Carter’s performance only gets worse. He misses an easy shot on goal, then takes a stupid penalty that leaves the team shorthanded for two minutes. When he returns to the ice, his frustration is palpable.

As he keeps trying too hard, forcing plays that aren’t there and only making things worse, I watch Coach Carson’s face grow increasingly thunderous on the bench. Finally, after another botched play, he’s had enough.

Even from my perch in the nosebleeds, I can see the defeat in Carter’s posture as he skates to the bench. Coach Carson lays into him, his words lost in the din of the arena, but his furious gestures speaking volumes. Carter nods mechanically, his eyes fixed on the ice.

And then he’s benched.

Carter slumps onto the bench, ripping off his helmet and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He looks… broken. My heart aches, and I want nothing more than to go down there, to tell him it will be okay, that we’ll figure this out together.

But I can’t.

How would he even react if I did?

"Hi, Carter," I whisper to myself, mocking myself. "I left you hanging for weeks on end, knowing you had issues with trust. But I’m back now, cool?"

I scoff in disgust with myself.

By staying away, I’ve made my choice, like it or not.

As the second period starts, Carter remains on the bench, hunched over, while his teammates battle it out on the ice. Every few minutes, his gaze drifts up to the press box, and I wonder if he’s looking for me.

This isn’t the confident, sometimes infuriating, but altogether wonderful man I’d come to know and love. This is someone lost, drowning under the weight of his past and the relentless media scrutiny, in a far worse state than ever before.

And I’ve left him to face it alone.

Watching Carter now, seeing the toll this whole mess has taken on him, I realize how badly I’ve failed. Not as a journalist, but as someone who cares about him. Suddenly, I wish I could somehow let him know he isn’t alone.

The realization hits me like a punch. I’ve been so caught up in my fears, in Frank’s threats, that I’ve abandoned the one person who’d truly opened up to me. The one person who’d trusted me enough to share his darkest secrets and who’d told me we’d face the entire world together.

I pull out my phone, staring at the unanswered email about the job offer. It promises stability, opportunity, and a fresh start away from all this drama. But as I look back at Carter, I know I can’t do it. I can’t walk away.

Not when there’s still a story to tell – the real story.

My fingers fly across the screen as I type out a quick response: "Thank you for the opportunity, but I must respectfully decline."

As soon as I hit send, a weight lifts off my shoulders. I’ve made my choice, and for the first time in weeks, it feels right. Frank’s threat still looms large, but I’m done letting fear dictate my actions. I’m a journalist and I love Carter Knox...

And it’s time I start acting like it.

I stand up and head for the aisle. My mind is already racing, piecing together the narrative I need to tell. Not the salacious expose Frank wanted, but the truth – the whole, messy, complicated truth about Carter Knox.

As I hurry out of the arena, my phone buzzes with a text from Jess:

"Have you made your decision?"

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