Page 32 of Expose on the Ice

The thought makes my stomach churn.

I wind up for another shot, putting all my frustration and fear behind it. The puck flies wide, missing the net entirely and slamming into the plexiglass with a resounding crack. The sound echoes through the empty rink, startling me out of my thoughts.

For a moment, I just stand there, chest heaving, sweat dripping down my face. In the quiet, the weight of everything I’ve been carrying threatens to crush me. My hands shake as I run them through my sweat-soaked hair. How had it come to this? How had I let myself get backed into a corner by some journalist?

The answer comes unbidden from the depths of my conscience.

Because you’re guilty,it says.And because you’ve been running from the truth for so long.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the voice, but it persists.

You can’t keep running forever, Carter,my mind mocks me.Eventually, the truth always comes out.

Pushing myself back to my feet, I retrieve my stick and skate over to where I’d left the whiskey bottle. As I reach for it, I catch sight of my reflection in the plexiglass. For a second, I barely recognize myself. The man staring back at me looks haunted, desperate.

Is this what Lily sees when she looks at me?

I grab the bottle and take another long drink, relishing the burn. But even as the alcohol dulls my senses, I know that while it can help me feel blissful nothing in the moment, it can’t solve my problems. It can’t erase the past or keep Lily from digging deeper.

I don’t know how long I skate, lost in a haze of whiskey and self-loathing. It’s rhythmic. Robotic. At least until I round the corner of the rink for what feels like the thousandth time, and a flash of movement catches my eye. I stumble, nearly losing my balance, and squint into the darkness of the stands.

“Who’s there?” I call out, my voice echoing in the empty arena.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

Then, a figure emerges from the shadows, and my stomach drops.

Lily.

I freeze, my skates digging into the ice as she steps into the dim light.

What the hell is she doing here? And why does she look like… that?

She’s wearing a slinky black dress that hugs every curve, the kind of outfit you’d wear to a fancy cocktail party, not some run-down ice rink in the middle of the night. The dress dips low in the front, revealing a tempting glimpse of cleavage, and the hemline stops just above her knees, showing off legs that seem to go on forever. Her hair is swept up in some kind of fancy updo, with a few stray tendrils framing her face.

“Fuck,” I say, taking another swig. She looks incredible. And it pisses me off how much I notice it.

“Carter?” Lily’s voice echoes through the rink. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

I snort, gesturing with the bottle. “I could ask you the same thing. Bit overdressed for a skate…”

She shifts, looking uncomfortable. “I was… out,” she says vaguely. “With a source.”

“Asource, huh?” I skate closer, my voice full of suggestion. “Must’ve been one hell of an interview.”

My mind wanders, imagining her on a date with some faceless source. I picture his hands on her waist, then sliding, north or south. There really isn’t a poor option with a body like that, her curves an equal shot at a good time, regardless of which choice is made…

A surge of jealousy hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. What the hell? She’s nothing to me but a pain in my ass, a threat to everything I’ve worked so hard to protect. So why does the thought of another man touching her make me want to put my fist through the boards?

Her cheeks flush, from anger or embarrassment, or both. “What’s your problem?” Lily fumes. “I came here to check you were okay, not be grilled about what I wear or who I see. Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” I snap, but the words ring hollow even to my ears. “But I could ask you the same question. Why do you give a damn where I am or what I’m doing? Especiallyhere…”

I cut myself off, realizing I’ve said too much. Lily’s eyes widen, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. Damn it. This is precisely what I’ve been trying to avoid. First, she’d seen me emotional coming out of my family home, and now she’s at my childhood rink.

Too.

Fucking.

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