Page 62 of Expose on the Ice

And she’s holding it.

With one action, she could blow it all to smithereens. My whole life, my career, my identity would be destroyed. Not only that. Everyone else who was involved in the cover-up of the circumstances surrounding Sarah’s death would be dragged down as well – my agent, the local cops, my family.

They’d trusted me to keep the secret safe because it benefited me and protected them, and I’d let them down. Part of me wantsto call Lily, to beg her to forget everything I’d said. But another part… Christ, another part feels lighter than I have in years.

It’s out there now.

My deepest, darkest secret.

The burden I’d carried alone for so long.

I close my eyes, and Sarah’s face flashes in my mind. Her bright smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. The sound of her voice, teasing me about my latest crush or cheering me on from the stands. And then… the sickening crunch of metal. Sarah’s lifeless body, blood matting her blonde hair.

As I slump onto the sofa, I realize something. I’d never really dealt with what happened. I’d pushed it down, buried it under hockey. I’d let the guilt fester, rotting me from the inside out. It had been a poison, mutating me into something I never wanted to be.

But Lily… she’s the antidote.

The way she’d looked at me in that elevator. There’d been no judgment in her eyes. Just understanding. Compassion. For the first time in years, I’d felt a flicker of something dangerously close to hope. Maybe, just maybe, someone could see past the facade I’d built. See me for who I really am – flaws, guilt, and all.

I’d dangled the truth like a carrot, for either a future together or the scoop of a lifetime. It’s up to her how she uses it. The thought utterly terrifies and exhilarates me at the same time. If I’d calculated wrong, and Lily publishes what I’d told her, my career would be over. But I’d also have my answer. About her. About us.

But if she doesn’t…

As the thought – and the possibility – washes through me, my eyes land on a framed photo I keep hidden in my closet. It’s of Sarah and me, arms slung around each other, grinning at the camera after one of my high school games. I’d won MVP that night, and Sarah had been so proud.

I pick up the frame, my throat tightening. "I’m sorry, Sar," I whisper. "I’m so sorry."

For the first time in years, I let myself really feel the loss. The grief I’d bottled up for so long comes pouring out, and I sink to the floor, clutching the photo to my chest as sobs wrack my body. Because, most of all, I know she wouldn’t like this version of her brother very much at all.

And neither do I.

LILY

As I sit at my desk, staring at the blank document on my laptop, Carter’s words from the elevator play on repeat in my mind, each syllable etched into my memory. The raw pain in his voice had been unmistakable. I close my eyes, recalling the vulnerable look on his face as he’d laid bare his deepest secret.

It’s a far cry from the man I’d been dealing with for weeks.

My gaze drifts to the notepad beside me, filled with scribbled details about the accident, the cover-up, the guilt that had been eating away at Carter for years. The story of the century is right there in front of me, complete with an admission of guilt from the man at the center of the conspiracy, ripe for the taking.

But at what cost?

I think back to our first disastrous interview, how Carter had shut down at the mere mention of his family. Now I understand why. The weight he’d been carrying… it’s almost unfathomable. People had sacrificed themselves to give him his future, yet he’d never really dealt with the grief that chased him even now.

My fingers hover over the keyboard, but I can’t type a word. The journalist in me screams to write, to grab this opportunityfor the career-defining piece I’d been chasing. But another part of me, a part that wants Carter, whispers that some stories aren’t meant to be told.

Carter’s last words in the elevator ring in my ears: "If what I’ve told you ends up in the paper, I’ll have my answer about how you feel."

It’s a challenge, but I already know. The truth is, I’d known for a while now. Despite his prickly exterior, despite all the walls he’d put up, I’ve fallen for him. Hard. So, before I can second-guess myself, I grab my phone and dial his number. It rings, then he picks up, his gruff voice coming through the line.

"Lily?"

I take a deep breath. "Carter, we need to talk. Can you meet me?"

There’s a pause. "Text me your address. I’ll be right over."

The line goes dead, and I stare at my phone in disbelief.

He’s coming here?