Page 42 of Expose on the Ice

A soft knock at my door startles me out of my spiral. "Lil?" Jess calls. "You okay in there? You’ve been awfully quiet."

"I’m fine," I say, but fail to hold in a pathetic sob.

The door opens, and Jess takes one look at my face and pulls me into a hug. "Oh, honey. What’s wrong?"

As we sit on my bed, I spill everything – the research, the hints of a cover-up, my conflicting feelings. Jess listens without judgment, her brow furrowed in concern.

"That’s… a lot," she says when I finish. "What are you going to do?"

I shake my head, feeling utterly lost. "I don’t know, Jess. I really don’t know."

CHAPTER 16

CARTER

Istep onto the ice, the familiar chill seeping through my skates and into my bones. It’s a welcome distraction from the chaos in my head. The rink is my sanctuary, the only place where I can forget about everything else and just… be.

"Alright, boys! Passing drills!" Coach Carson’s voice booms across the arena, then follows up with detailed instructions for the drill.

I throw myself into the drill with ferocity. The puck slaps against my stick, a satisfying crack echoing through the air as I send it flying towards Tank. He corrals it easily, raising an eyebrow at the force behind my pass.

"Easy, Knox," he calls out. "Save some for the games, yeah?"

I ignore him, focusing instead on the next puck. And the next. And the next. It’s better than thinking about that night with Lily, the way her eyes had softened as I spilled my guts like some lovesick teenager, and the way her lips had…

"Knox!" Coach’s sharp bark snaps me back to reality. "Take five. You’re pushing too hard."

I skate over to him, jaw clenched. "I’m fine, Coach."

He studies me for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed. "I said take five."

I growl, my temper flaring. "Just let me do my job."

We engage in a battle of wills for a few seconds, neither gaze wavering, but eventually I give in. I’m stubborn, and he’s an old and world champion hard ass, but healsoknows the one way he can get to me and get his way, no matter what.

The threat of the bench.

With a nod, I skate toward the locker room entrance, but before I reach it, I see Frosty, our mascot, waving at me enthusiastically from the sidelines. He’s gesturing to a kid, maybe ten, looking at me with wide, awe-filled eyes.

"Hey, Knox!" Frosty calls out, his voice muffled by the giant foam head. "Got a fan here who’d love an autograph!"

I feel my shoulders tense, irritation prickling under my skin. Usually, I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t have time for this shit. Not today. Not when every second I’m not moving, not playing, leaves me alone with my thoughts.

"Not now," I snap.

"Come on, man," Frosty persists, his perpetual grin somehow managing to look pleading. "It’ll take two seconds. Kid’s been waiting all practice."

Something in me snaps. All the frustration, the confusion, the goddamn vulnerability I’d been trying to bury comes rushing to the surface. Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve skated over to Frosty and taken a swing.

My fist connects with that stupid grinning face, the foam head flying off and revealing the shocked expression of the guy inside. He stumbles backward, nearly dragging the kid down with him.

"Jesus Christ, Knox!" Tank yells, skating over and grabbing my arm. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The rink falls silent, save for the sound of my heavy breathing. I look around, seeing the shocked faces of myteammates, the horrified expression of the kid who’d just wanted an autograph.

I pull my arm away from Tank aggressively and skate off, finding sanctuary in the locker room while my teammates deal with the fallout, finding gear for the kid and helping Frosty to his feet.

I slump onto a bench in the empty locker room, my head in my hands. What the hell is wrong with me? Punching Frosty? Themascot? In front of a kid?

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