Page 169 of Check & Chase
I meet his eyes and don’t blink. “And if it were you? If you were the one with something to hide, would you want your PT handing out the playbook to the other side?”
His expression falters, and to his credit, he looks a little ashamed. “Fair point.”
“Trust me,” Jackson cuts in, tone light but firm, “we don’t need medical gossip to take down the Bears. We’ll beat them by being better.”
The room relaxes, tension bleeding out. I glance at my brother, and he gives a slight nod.
This is how it’s going to be for the rest of the series. Tiptoeing that invisible line between what I used to be to Chase and what I am now. Between loyalty and duty. Between heart and job.
Back at the facility, I find a text waiting from Chase.
Chase:Just found out that I’m coming to Hartford two days early for media obligations. Dinner tomorrow night?
My pulse quickens. We’ve settled into a rhythm these past weeks—visits on his days off, daily texts, occasional phone calls. We’ve been taking careful, measured steps toward rebuilding what was broken.
But that was before our professional worlds collided directly.
Me:Not sure that’s a good idea with our upcoming game and media everywhere. Us having dinner would be catnip for them.
Chase:Room service at my hotel then? No public appearances, just us.
The suggestion tempts me. The privacy, the chance to see him without scrutiny, to continue the slow reconnection we’ve been nurturing.
Me:I’ll think about it.
My new apartment feels emptier than usual when I arrive home that evening. I’ve made it homey in the past few weeks, creating a space that feels like mine.
Tonight, though, the solitude weighs more heavily as I consider Chase’s invitation and everything it represents.
My phone rings that evening. It’s Maya, checking in like she does most evenings.
“Tell me you’re not overthinking the dinner invitation,” she begins without preamble.
I laugh in spite of myself. “Hello to you too. And how did you know about that?”
“Chase texted me. Wanted my opinion on whether I thought you’d actually say yes or if he was pushing too hard.”
That catches me off guard. “He texted you? About me?”
“We’ve developed a sort of alliance these past weeks. Operation Get Emma Back, or whatever.”
“That’s… unexpected.”
“He’s trying, Em,” Maya continues, her voice softening. “Really trying. Not just the grand gestures, but the small stuff too. Asking advice. Respecting boundaries. Putting in the work.”
I sink onto my couch. “I know he is. That’s what makes this so complicated. If he were still the same Chase who broke up with me ‘for my own good,’ this would be easy.”
“But he’s not that guy anymore,” Maya points out. “Or at least, he’s workinghard not to be.”
“Exactly. And now with the playoff series, everything is more complicated. Seeing him feels like divided loyalty.”
“To whom?” Maya challenges. “Your job is treating injured players, not cheering for goals. Dating Chase doesn’t make you any less committed to your team.”
“Try explaining that to the media if they catch us having dinner together before the Conference Finals start.”
“Hence the room service suggestion. Which shows consideration for your position. He’s thinking about how to see you without creating complications.”
She’s right. The private dinner suggestion shows maturity, another sign of the growth Chase has been showing.
