Page 98 of Check & Chase
I hold her gaze, needing her to understand. “If you love someone, you protect what matters to them. Jackson matters to you. So I protect him too.”
Tears spill over, tracking silently down her cheeks. “When did you get so wise?”
“Brain damage,” I quip, earning a watery laugh. “Does wonders for my intelligence.”
Emma sniffs, wiping her eyes. “This is incredibly unprofessional.”
“I think we left professional behind when I jumped over the boards to save your brother.” I tug her hand, urging her closer. “Come here.”
She hesitates. “Your injuries…”
“Will hurt whether you’re over there or right here with me. Might as well give me something nice to focus on besides the pain.”
With careful movements, Emma perches on the edge of the hospital bed, mindful of tubes and wires. It’s not exactly the romantic setting I’d have chosen for this moment, but having her close feels right.
“I love you too,” I say, the words easier to speak than I’d expected. “In case that wasn’t clear. Have for a while now.”
“Since when?”
I consider the question seriously, tracing back through the weeks of our fake relationship, trying to pinpoint the moment pretense became reality.
“Remember that day you had a panic attack near the rink? When I found you against the wall, struggling to breathe?” I wait for her nod. “That was the first time I admitted it to myself. But I think it started the night you wore my jersey to the game.”
A small smile touches her lips. “That possessive, are you?”
“You have no idea.” I reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, ignoring the pull of the IV. “Seeing my name across your back did things to me, Blondie.”
The familiar nickname makes her smile widen, though exhaustion still shadows her eyes.
“How long have you been here?” I ask, suddenly aware of how disheveled she looks. “Have you slept at all?”
“I dozed. I wanted to be here when you woke up.”
“You need rest. A real bed, not that torture device they call a chair.”
“I’m fine.”
“Emma.” I fix her with the sternest look I can manage. “Go home. Shower. Sleep. Come back tomorrow to bust me out of this place.”
She looks torn, clearly reluctant to leave. “What if something happens while I’m gone?”
“Then the highly trained medical staff will handle it. I’m stable, just concussed and in pain. Nothing sleep won’t help.”
Emma hesitates, then sighs. “Fine. But I’m coming back first thing in the morning.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
She stands, gathering her purse and jacket, and I’m struck by how natural this feels. Her caring for me, me caring for her in return.
“Emma,” I call as she reaches the door. She turns, eyebrow raised. “This changes things, you know. Us. The fake relationship.”
“I know.” Her expression turns serious. “We have a lot to figure out. My job,your recovery…”
“Another day,” I cut her off gently. “We’ll figure it out another day. For now, just knowing you love me back is enough.”
The smile that spreads across her face is worth every moment of pain, every setback to my career, every complication we’ll face.
“I do,” she says simply, certainty in her voice. “Against all logic and professional ethics.”
