Page 30 of Expose on the Ice

The night of the accident.

Both of us drunk at a party.

Sarah insisting on driving us both.

Me, refusing, too wasted to be argued with, too arrogant to be denied.

Her, relenting, because she’d trusted me.

The deer in the headlights.

Swerving.

The guardrail giving way.

And then… chaos.

Sirens.

Flashing lights.

Dad’s face, ashen and grim as he arrived at the scene.

“We can fix this,” he’d said, his voice low and urgent. “But you can’t say a word, Carter. Do you understand? Not adamnword.”

I’d nodded, numb with shock and alcohol, unable to fully grasp what was happening, and then he’d fixed it. My Dad had always been my greatest fan, and I’d always been his biggest hope. Long training sessions, driving across the state… I’d been the pride of a down on their luck family.

And I’d screwed it up. And cost Sarah her life.

The next few days had been a blur. Dad claiming he’d been driving. The local cops, old friends of the family, nodding along. My agent, smoothing things over with carefully worded statements and sizeable donations. They’d concocted a story good enough to pass casual muster, fed it to the papers, and put just enough of a finger on the scales of justice to get therightoutcome.

All to protect me.

To protect my future.

And bury Sarah, sheathed in a lie.

“Carter?” Mom’s voice snaps me back to the present. She’s stood up, reaching out as if to touch me, but I flinch away.

“I can’t be here,” I mutter, already backing towards the door. “I can’t breathe in this house.”

“Please, don’t go,” she begs. “Your father would want?—”

“Dad’s not here,” I cut her off. “He’s in prison because of me. Because of what I did.”

Tears well up in her eyes. “He did what he had to do. We all did. To protect you. Your career?—”

“I know, Mom,” I say, a long sigh threatening to turn into a sob. “I know, okay? And I live with it every day, even though it eats at me.”

“We all do, Carter.”

I nod. “See you soon, Mom.”

As I walk to my hire car, chased by demons, haunted by ghosts, the weight of the past presses down on me, threatening to crush what little composure I have left. As I fumble for the keys, my breath comes in ragged gasps in the cold night air, and a flicker of movement catches my eye.

Lily.

She’s on the other side of the street, her notepad clutched to her chest, her eyes wide with curiosity. For a moment, our gazes lock, and I know my usual walls are nowhere near high enough. My guilt is probably written all over my face, even as the gears in her mind turn.

---