Page 17 of Expose on the Ice

Exhausted, long after almost everyone else has cleared out, I step out into the cool night air. As I walk down the concrete steps, my mind still buzzing as I approach the near-empty parking lot, I hear raised voices coming from around a corner.

“I don’t get it, Tom,” a male voice says. “What the hell happened out there tonight? Laura wants my head on a platter. She told us if things don’t improve, there’s not going to be a large enough broom.”

I freeze, recognizing the gruff voice of Mark Turner, the Frost Giants’ team manager, and the woman’s name as that of Laura Kane, the team’s owner. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I creep closer, pressing my back against the wall.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Mark,” Coach Carson replies, his tone laced with frustration. “We were turning the season around, then bam. It’s like someone flipped a switch. The entire team’s energy is off.”

“It’s not the team,” Mark growls. “It’s Knox. He was holding our season together with his bare hands. Now he’s playing like he’s got concrete in his skates. He was terrible tonight.”

I hold my breath, straining to catch every word.

“I know, I know,” Coach Carson sighs. “He’s still got the anger and the fire, but it’s like he’s lost his focus. I can’t figure out why.”

“Well, you better figure it out fast,” Mark snaps. “We’ve got disgruntled fans and sponsors breathing down our necks. We need Knox in form.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Coach Carson promises. “Maybe there’s something going on off the ice that’s affecting his game.”

“Well, it’ll start affecting jobs if we’re not careful,” Mark says. “Whatever the problem, it needs to be fixed.”

Their voices fade as they walk away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I lean against the wall, my heart racing. This is it – the story behind the story. The team’s shining star is suddenly dimming, and nobody knows why.

But I do. Or, at least, I have a pretty good idea.

As I make my way to my car, my mind whirls with possibilities. Knox’s performance has tanked right as I’d started getting under his skin and digging into his past. It can’t be a coincidence. Whatever secret he is hiding, it is impacting him on the ice.

I think back to what Tank had told me earlier. Knox had changed dramatically just before he was drafted – going from a carefree kid to a man fueled by aggression and anger. What in the hell could have caused such a drastic shift?

Unlocking my car, I slide into the driver’s seat and just sit there for a moment, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. I’ve only scratched the surface so far, but I’m onto something big. I can feel it in my bones. It has to do with Minnesota. His hometown. His family. His past.

One thing is obvious: Carter Knox is hiding something, and it is eating him alive – both on and off the ice.

CHAPTER 7

LILY

The wheels of my carry-on suitcase squeak a little as I walk inside Omaha Prime, the upscale steakhouse where the Frost Giants are having their pre-trip meal ahead of a long stretch of road games. The restaurant buzzes with energy, a mix of excitement for the upcoming trip and curiosity about my presence.

As I make my way through the dining room, I catch Mark Turner’s eye and give him a grateful nod. “Thanks for this, Mark. I really appreciate it.”

He returns my smile with a tight one of his own. “Of course, Lily. We’re happy to have you along. Just make sure that first story is glowing…”

His words might be welcoming, but the tension in his shoulders gives me the distinct impression that ‘happy’ isn’t quite the right word. Instead, it feels more like he hopes that by inviting me to travel with the team during the upcoming stretch of road games – a privilege usually denied to journalists – I might pull a punch or two about the team in my article.

My article that’s due in three days…

The article that hasn’t been written yet…

The road trip is the second part of my plan to go around Knox to get to the core of my story, building on my efforts to get close to some other players. He’s a dam in a river, impossible to get past if I go with the flow, but I’m digging new paths around him.

I scan the tables where the team is seated, my eyes immediately drawn to Knox at the far end. His broad shoulders are hunched, his gaze fixed on the menu in front of him as if it holds the secrets of the universe. Even from across the room, I can feel the waves of hostility rolling off him.

As I navigate towards an empty seat, snippets of conversation reach my ears. The players and some coaches are talking quietly enough to not betooobvious, but loud enough to make it clear they have no problem with me hearing. I’m an outsider, after all, penetrating their fragile ecosystem.

“Can you believe they’re letting her come with us?”

“I thought road trips were supposed to be team-only.”

“Knox is going to lose his shit.”

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