Page 90 of Check & Chase
“It is for me. Hasn’t been fake for a long time, if I’m honest.”
Emma’s breath catches, her free hand coming to rest hesitantly on my shoulder. “Chase—”
“I’m scared,” I confess, cutting her off. “But not about skating or my knee. I’m scared about when the Bears play the Wolves, and our arrangement is supposed to end. I’m scared of going back to just being your patient.”
Her eyes widen at my honesty. “I don’t… I’m not sure what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything yet.” I reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just think about it. About us. About whether what we started is worth exploring for real.”
She leans into my touch, eyes drifting closed. When they open again, there’s clarity there, a decision forming. “Chase, I—”
The door swings open without warning, Mr. Peterson’s voice preceding his entrance. “Ms. Anderson, I wanted to discuss Mitchell’s clearance for—”
He stops abruptly, taking in the scene—Emma standing between my legs, my hand on her face, our bodies close in a way that can’t be construed as professional.
Emma jumps back, nearly tripping. “Mr. Peterson! I was just completing Mitchell’s post-skating assessment.”
His expression remains neutral. “I see. And does your assessment protocol typically include such… close physical proximity?”
Emma’s cheeks deepen from pink to scarlet. “No, of course not. I was just—”
“It’s my fault,” I interject. “I asked a question about my rehabilitation that required Ms. Anderson’s close attention.”
Peterson’s eyebrow rises. “Indeed. Well, I’ll leave you to complete your… assessment. Ms. Anderson, my office afterward, please.”
With that ominous request, he exits.
“Shit,” she mutters, pressing hands to her heated cheeks. “That’s the second time he’s caught us in a compromising position.”
I start laughing, unable to help myself.
“This isn’t funny, Chase.” She moves to the sink, splashing cold water on her face. “Peterson has been warning me for weeks. This could be the final straw.”
“I’ll talk to him. Explain that I initiated the contact.”
“That won’t help. If anything, it’ll just confirm his suspicions that our relationship is affecting my professional judgment.”
“So what do we do?”
She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I finish your assessment. You get dressed. I go talk to Peterson. And we be more careful.”
“Emma—”
“We’ll talk later,” she promises, her professional mask sliding back into place. “After I speak with Peterson.”
I nod, accepting the temporary delay even as frustration builds. One step forward, two steps back.
But as Emma completes her examination, I make a silent promise: This isn’t over. Whatever is growing between us is worth fighting for.
Because Emma Anderson might just be the biggest, most worthwhile risk of my life.
Emma
Chapter Eighteen
I’ve treated hundreds of injuries. Broken bones, torn ligaments, dislocated shoulders. I know how to fix those. But nothing in my training prepared me for the helplessness of watching my brother skate out for the biggest game of the season while Chase sat on the bench, taped up and still not cleared.
Game day. Bears versus Wolves. The matchup that was supposed to mark the end of our fake relationship.
