Page 16 of Check & Chase
“Speaking of awkward, there’s your ex,” Maya remarks, following my gaze. “Looking like a jerk as always.”
Tyler skates past Chase and says something to him. Even from here, I can feel the tension between them.
“What do you think Tyler’s saying?” I wonder aloud.
“No idea, probably still pissed off that Chase had his fingers inside you a year ago. Though knowing that douche canoe, he’s acting all wounded about it as if he didn’t cheat on you with approximately nine thousand puck bunnies.”
I snort. “Douche canoe?”
“I’m trying new insults. Is it working?”
“Surprisingly well.”
Coach blows his whistle, and the team breaks into groups. My attention inevitably follows Chase.
Maya watches the players move through their stretches. “Holy hell,” she mutters. “That’s just grinding with extra steps.”
“It’s a hip flexor exercise,” I correct her, though I can’t deny the similarity.
“No wonder you have a thing for hockey players. This is basically foreplay on ice.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t have a thing for hockey players. I had a thing for one hockey player, years ago, and it ended badly. And whatever happened with Chase was a one-time lapse in judgment.”
“Uh-huh.” She gives me a knowing look. “That’s definitely why you’re watching his every move.”
I’m saved from responding when Coach calls the team back together for drills. They break into offensive and defensive units, setting up for what looks like a scrimmage.
We watch as Chase wins the face-off, darting away with the puck, his movements quick despite the obvious compensation.
“I thought you told him not to skate today?” Maya asks.
“I did. I told him to stay off the ice completely.”
She laughs. “Seems like he’s not big on following directions.”
“Understatement of the century.”
The scrimmage intensifies, players battling for the puck against the boards, bodies colliding with enough force to make me wince. It’s only practice, but these guys don’t seem to have an “off” switch.
“Em, did you even tell him at the party that your brother plays for the Wolves?”
I shake my head. “No, it never came up. I didn’t even know he played for the Bears until Tyler barged in.”
“So he had no idea you were Jackson Anderson’s little sister when he had his fingers inside you?” She grins. “Oh, that makes it even better.”
“How exactly does that make it better?”
“Because Jackson would murder any Bear who touched you, and Chase did a lot more than touch.”
I groan. “Please don’t remind me. And for the love of God, don’t ever tell Jackson. He’s already pissed enough that I’m working here.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. Though I reserve the right to tease you mercilessly about it in private.”
On the ice, the scrimmage heats up. Chase gets the puck again, fakes out a defenseman, then dishes it to a teammate. There’s something mesmerizing about watching athletes in their element, even stubborn ones who ignore medical advice.
“That boy is gonna blow out his knee if he keeps playing like that,” Maya observes.
She’s right. With every shift of direction, every awkward push-off, Chase is risking turning his Grade 1 sprain into something much worse. And there’s nothing I can do about it from up here in the stands.
