Page 87 of Expose on the Ice

CHAPTER 35

LILY

Surrounded by a sea of half-packed boxes, each one a stark reminder of how quickly my life has unraveled, the apartment I’d once loved now feels like a prison, closing in on me with every passing moment.

So many moments.

Weeks without him.

Without Carter.

At my desk, my fingers hover over the keyboard as I scroll through yet another job listing. Copy editor for a local gardening magazine. I snort, the sound hollow in the quiet room. From rising star sports journalist to articles about petunias.

"Lily?" Jess’s voice calls through the door, followed by a soft knock. "I know you’re in there. Come on, let me in."

I remain silent, willing her to go away, to understand that I don’t want to talk to anyone about anything right now. After a few moments, I hear her sigh and retreat down the hallway, even Jess’ legendary reserves of humor and pep destroyed by the black hole of my mood.

My gaze falls on a stack of framed photos I’d pulled from the walls. On top is a picture of my college graduation. I pick it up,my chest tightening as I look at my younger self. So full of hope and ambition – and so naïve.

"Look where that got you," I mutter, turning the frame face-down and dropping it into a nearby box with a dull thud.

The silence in the apartment is deafening, broken only by the occasional ping of my phone. Each message, each missed call, feels like an accusation. A reminder of the people I’m pushing away, the life I’m leaving behind.

But what choice do I have? Frank’s threat looms over me like a dark cloud. If I stay, if I fight, it will only make things worse for Carter. And I can’t bear the thought of causing him any more pain, which means I have to keep my distance from him and go.

To be here, in Omaha, knowing he’s so close but completely untouchable, would kill me. I need to get to the other side of the country, get a job elsewhere and head in any direction. It doesn’t matter what, or where, all that matters isnot here.

I glance at my laptop screen, the cursor blinking mockingly at me from an empty Word document. I’d thought about writing, about pouring my heart out onto the page. But the words won’t come. They’re stuck somewhere in my chest, tangled up with all the things I can’t say, can’t feel, because to do so would rip apart the person I’ve cared for most in my whole life.

My fingers itch to dial Carter’s number, to hear his voice just one more time. But I know if I do, my resolve will crumble. And then he and the rest of the team would end up destroyed by Frank’s vendetta, when they’d only been trying to help Carter and me.

No, this is better.

Lonely, painful, but better.

This way, Carter can salvage his career, his reputation.

Even if it means sacrificing my happiness in the process.

CARTER

I slump onto the bench in front of my locker, my muscles aching from the beating I’ve just taken on the ice. The locker room is eerily quiet, like a convention of corpses inside a morgue, a stark contrast to the chaos waiting for me outside.

I can hear the muffled voices of reporters clamoring for a statement, hungry for more details about the shitstorm my life has become. Screw them, they can wait, although the league has told me I can’t ignore them entirely.

I’ve played like absolute shit tonight. Missed passes, sloppy defense, couldn’t find the back of the net to save my life. Coach had benched me for the third period, and I can’t even blame him. I’m a liability out there at the moment.

My eyes drift to the mirror inside my locker door. The face staring back at me is a stranger – hollow-eyed, unshaven, with a nasty bruise blooming along my jaw from a vicious check. My whole body aches, but so does my heart, and that’sfarworse.

Everything has gone to hell so fast.

The story about Sarah’s death and the cover-up has exploded, dragging my family’s darkest secret into the harsh light of day. It’s been front page news for a week now, Frank and his journalists drip feeding a small amount of detail every day, keeping the eyeballs and the clicks and the ad revenue coming.

The police are sniffing around, asking questions about my involvement, my father’s role in taking the fall. They haven’t charged me with anything yet, but I figure they might, as if reliving that night isn’t torture enough.

And then there’s my mom. The stress of it all has been too much, and she’d collapsed at home last week. A minor heart attack, the doctors said, but it feels like a knife to my gut. She’s another person I’ve failed to protect.

But the worst part, the thing that keeps me up at night staring at the ceiling, is Lily. Not because of what the story has done to her, but because of what she’s done since the story. Nothing. She’s just… vanished. One text message, and then radio silence. I’ve called. No answer. I’ve visited, and Jess had told me she was gone.