Page 128 of Check & Chase
The arena erupts in a wall of sound that hits me like a physical force. My teammates crash into me, shouting congratulations, their joy infectious as we celebrate together. I’m laughing, relief and pure joy surging through me as we skate back to center ice for the face-off.
That’s when I spot Emma. She’s on her feet in the family section, jumping up and down with an expression of such pure happiness it takes my breath away. Without thinking, I point directly at her, tapping my chest where her necklace rests against my heart.
This one’s for you,the gesture says.Everything is for you.
We hold our lead through the final minutes, and when the buzzer sounds, I’m exhausted but elated. One goal, one assist, and a win. Not bad for a comeback.
Emma is waiting in the family area when I finally emerge from the locker room, showered and changed, talking with Miller’s wife about something that makes them both laugh. She turns when she hears me, and her smile is like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm.
“There’s my goal scorer,” she beams as I pull her into a hug, not caring who sees us.
“All thanks to my good luck charm,” I murmur into her hair.
She pulls back to look at me, suddenly serious, her PT instincts kicking in. “How’s the knee?”
“Sore,” I admit. There’s no point lying to her—she’d see through it anyway. “But the good kind of sore. Like I worked it hard, not like I damaged it.”
Relief flashes across her face like sunrise. “Good. You looked amazing out there.”
As we walk toward the parking garage, her hand warm in mine, I think about how much has changed in the past few months. The fake relationship that became real, the injury that brought us together, theway she’s slowly finding her way back to the ice while I found my way back to the game.
“I think maybe we should celebrate properly,” I say. “Dinner? Dancing?”
Emma laughs. “Dancing? On that knee? I don’t think so. How about takeout instead?”
“Even better,” I reply, squeezing her hand. “As long as you’re there, I don’t care what we do.”
And it’s true. The high of scoring, of winning, of being back on the ice—none of it compares to the feeling of having Emma by my side. The necklace around my neck isn’t my only good luck charm.
She is.
And I’m never letting her go.
Emma
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The athletic tape feels different in my hands today. I’ve wrapped countless ankles, wrists, and shoulders over the years, but something has changed.
“Too tight?” I ask Roberts, the Bears’ third-line center whose ankle I’m currently taping.
He flexes his foot. “Perfect, actually. Better than usual.”
This is what I’ve been missing. The easy rapport with players who aren’t just patients but people I genuinely care about. Before Chase, before our complicated relationship muddied the waters, this was what drew me to sports medicine.
“Speaking of idiots,” Roberts says, nodding toward the doorway, “yours is hovering.”
I glance up to see Chase leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me work. He’s freshly showered after his solo morning skate, his damp hair curling slightly at the temples.
“You almost done torturing my teammates?” he asks.
“Roberts isn’t being tortured. He’s being cared for, which is what happens when players actually follow medical advice.” I give him a pointed look.
After Roberts leaves, Chase circles behind the treatment table, his hands settling lightly on my hips. “Lunch?”
“Can’t. Full schedule this afternoon.” I turn in his arms. “Chase, we’re at work.”
“And?” His brows rise innocently.
