Page 113 of Check & Chase
“Right, of course.” I turn off the engine, realizing I should have thought of that myself. My brain feels scattered, jumping between practical concerns and worst-case scenarios.
I watch through the windshield as Chase disappears inside, then reemerges with Max cradled in his arms like a furry baby. The sight would be amusing under different circumstances—this tough hockey player being so gentle with his spoiled cat.
He makes his way carefully through the snow to the neighbors’ house, and I see their front door open before he even reaches it. A brief conversation, then the neighbor gently takes Max from his arms, and then Chase is making his way back to the car, moving carefully on the slippery driveway.
“All set,” he announces, sliding into the passenger seat with only a slight wince. “You ready to hit the road?”
I nod, my throat too tight for words, and guide the SUV onto the slowly clearing street.
Emma
Chapter Twenty-Three
The drive to Calgary normally takes about four hours from Pinewood, but with the storm-affected roads, I estimate at least six. Chase doesn’t question the journey; he just settles in for the long haul.
“We should stop for gas soon,” he notes as we pass the first hour mark. “And maybe grab some food. It’s going to be a long drive.”
I nod, my focus still primarily on the road ahead. While the highways have been plowed, they remain slick and challenging, requiring my full attention. Chase keeps up a steady stream of conversation, clearly trying to distract me from spiraling thoughts.
“Tell me about where your mom lives,” he prompts when we stop at a gas station, him pumping while I run in for snacks and coffee.
“Small house on the outskirts of Calgary,” I explain as we merge back onto the highway. “Dad built it himself, which is why she refuses to sell it. She says she feels close to him there.”
Chase nods. “That’s why you didn’t want her to move closer to you or Jackson.”
“We’ve tried. After she retired from teaching last year, we thought maybe she’d consider it. But she’s stubborn.”
“Wonder where you get that from,” Chase teases, earning a reluctant smile.
“I prefer to call it determination.”
Three hours in, we hit a particularly rough stretch of road, visibility dropping as wind kicks up loose snow. I grip the steering wheel tightly, reducing our speed to a crawl.
“You’re doing great,” he says quietly, noticing my tension. “We can pull over if you need a break.”
“I’m fine,” I insist, though my shoulders have begun to ache from the strain. “We need to keep going.”
He doesn’t push, just rests his hand on my thigh. The simple touch anchors me, reminding me I’m not alone.
By the time we reach the outskirts of Calgary, nearly five and a half hours have passed. The storm has largely dissipated here; roads are clearer, though still showing evidence of significant snowfall. I follow familiar routes to my mother’s neighborhood, tension gradually easing as we near our destination.
My mother’s house comes into view—a modest, single-story home with forest green shutters and a wide front porch currently dusted with snow. Jackson’s truck sits in the cleared driveway.
We park behind his truck, and I’m out of the car almost before the engine stops, hurrying up the salted walkway with Chase following at a slower pace, mindful of his injuries and the slippery surface.
The front door opens before I reach it, Jackson appearing with an exasperated expression. “Took you long enough,” he grumbles, though there’s relief in his eyes. “She’s been asking for you every hour.”
“Roads were a nightmare,” I reply. “How is she?”
“Milking it for all it’s worth,” he answers with an eye roll. “Ankle’s wrapped, nothing broken. Doc already came and went.”
I push past him into the warm house, the familiar scent of my mother’s cinnamon potpourri washing over me. “Mom?”
“In here, sweetheart!” Her voice calls from the living room, strong and cheerful, immediately easing some of my anxiety.
I find her on the couch, right ankle propped on pillows, looking perfectly fine save for the bandage. “Emma! You didn’t need to drive through a blizzard, darling.”
“It wasn’t a blizzard,” I say automatically, crossing to kiss her cheek. “Just some snow. What happened?”
