Page 5 of Check & Chase
I look at Chase, who has the decency to look uncomfortable. “It didn’t come up.”
“I bet it didn’t.” Tyler’s gaze shifts to me, his lip curling. “Hope you know what you’re getting into, Em. Mitchell here has a reputation with women.”
Chase takes a step forward, hands clenched into fists. “Fuck off, West.”
Tyler holds up his hands. “Hey, no judgment. Just looking out for my ex-girlfriend.”
The way he says it makes my skin crawl.
“I need to go,” I mutter, straightening my dress and pushing past both of them.
“Emma, wait,” Chase calls after me, but I’m already halfway down the hall.
I need to find Maya and get out of here. The alcohol and orgasm-induced haze are clearing rapidly, replaced by mortification. What was I thinking? I came to this party to prove I was over Tyler, not to hook up with his teammate.
I spot Maya by the keg and make a beeline for her.
“There you are!” she exclaims. “I’ve been looking everywhere for—whoa, what happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“We need to leave.Now.”
She takes one look at my face and nods. “Let me grab my purse.”
As we’re heading for the door, I feel my phone vibrate in my clutch. I pull it out to find a text from an unknown number.
Unknown Number:Emma, it’s Chase. Tyler gave me your number. Can we talk?
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the reply button. Part of me wants to hear what he has to say. A bigger part just wants to forget this night ever happened.
“Everything okay?” Maya asks as we climb into an Uber.
I turn off my phone and drop it back into my clutch. “Fine. Just ready to go home.”
Three days later, I’m in my apartment, staring at my phone. Chase has sent two more texts since that night. I’ve ignored them all.
But tonight, fueled by a glass of wine and Maya’s insistence that I’m being childish, I finally type out a response.
Me:What is there to talk about? We had a drink, we hooked up, it’s fine. Let’s just forget it happened.
I hit send before I can change my mind. Then I wait, my heart pounding ridiculously fast.
Ten minutes pass. Then thirty. An hour.
No response.
I check to make sure the message went through. It did.
Well, that’s that. Chase Mitchell isn’t interested now that the chase is over. Typical hockey player.
I block his number, delete the conversation, and promise myself I’ll be more careful next time.
No more hockey players.
Ever.
Emma
Chapter One
