Page 159 of Check & Chase
“By making decisions for her? Without asking what she wanted?” His tone is incredulous. “Man, you really don’t know Emma at all, do you?”
“I’m learning. The hard way.”
“She’s with the Wolves now. That makes this twice as complicated. You understand that, right?”
“I do. But I’m willing to deal with the complications if she is.”
“That’s her choice. Her choice, Mitchell. Not yours.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
“Good. Because if you hurt her again, I don’t care how many goals you score, I will end you.”
“Understood.”
There’s a pause, then a heavy sigh. “She’s staying at the Extended Stay on Riverside Drive. Room 307. Not that I’m telling you to go there. In fact, I’m explicitly telling you not to show up uninvited. But if she reaches out… well, now you know where to find her.”
The information is a peace offering of sorts. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m still not convinced you deserve another chance with her. But that’s not my decision to make.”
After we hang up, I stand in my bedroom, processing everything. Emma’s in Hartford. Emotional, conflicted, but physically safe. Information I now have but can’t use without violating the boundaries she’s set.
Two hours away might as well be two thousand.
So I do the only thing I can. I wait. And plan. And hope that when Emma is ready to talk, I’ll have the right words ready, the right actions to prove that I’ve changed.
Because some journeys can’t be rushed, some healing can’t be forced, and some loves are worth the painful, necessary growth they demand. Even if it means driving to Hartford every day off for the rest of my career. Even if it means rebuilding trust one painfully small step at a time.
Emma Anderson is worth it all. And somehow, I’m going to prove that to her.
Emma
Chapter Thirty-Six
Hartford looks exactly like I expected—nice enough, but not home.
I’ve been here for three days, settling into the hotel that will be my temporary residence, going through orientation at the Wolves’ facility, meeting new colleagues and learning new systems. Three days of pretending to be excited about this fresh start while checking my phone constantly, Chase’s number hovering beneath my finger more times than I can count.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Jackson observes, breaking into my thoughts as we sit at a restaurant near the arena.
“What thing?” I ask, though I know exactly what he means.
“That vacant expression while you check your phone every thirty seconds. Waiting for a call that you could initiate yourself if you weren’t so stubborn.”
I set the phone down deliberately, face-down on the table. “I’m not waiting for anything.”
“Right. And I’m Sidney Crosby.”
“You wish,” I retort, falling back on sibling banter.
He grins, taking a swig of his beer. “Seriously, though. You’ve been here three days and I’ve yet to see you genuinely smile. Head physical therapist for an NHL team? That’s been your goal since grad school.”
“I am thrilled,” I insist, the lie sounding hollow.
“Bullshit. You’re miserable. And we both know why.”
I focus intently on my salad, pushing cherry tomatoes around instead of meeting his too-perceptive gaze. “I’m adjusting. It’s a big transition.”
