Page 116 of Check & Chase
“Get some sleep,” she says finally, pressing a kiss to my forehead as she rises. “You drove a long way today, and things have a way of looking clearer in the morning.”
After she leaves, I lie awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about Chase’s whispered declaration in the darkness, about his easy integration into my family, about the way he drove with me through a snowstorm for hours without hesitation because I needed him.
“I’m going to marry you one day, Emma Anderson.”
The words settle in my mind as sleep pulls me under, leaving behind a kind of happiness I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Chase
Chapter Twenty-Four
The drive back from Calgary to Pinewood feels twice as long as the journey out, despite roads finally cleared of snow and sunshine replacing blizzard conditions. Emma and I don’t talk much, both of us lost in our own thoughts after the visit with her mother. Something shifted between us at her childhood home, something I can’t quite name but can feel settling into place like a puzzle piece I didn’t know was missing.
“You’re quiet,” Emma observes as we pass the Pinewood city limits sign.
“Just thinking,” I reply, watching her profile. “Your mom is something else.”
A smile touches her lips. “She liked you. A lot.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” And it’s true. Diane Anderson is a force of nature—warm, sharp-witted, with the same backbone of steel I recognize in her daughter.
As we pull into my driveway, my phone buzzes with a message from Donovan reminding me about tomorrow’s team meeting. Management wants to discuss my recovery timeline.
“Thanks for driving,” I say as Emma puts the car in park.
“Like I’d let you behind the wheel with a concussion and a bum knee,” she scoffs.
I reach across the console to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against the softness of her cheek. “Stay tonight? I’ve gotten used to having you around.”
Emma hesitates, and I can see the internal battle play out on her face. “I can’t. Early patient tomorrow, and I need to catch up on all the appointments I missed during the storm.”
Disappointment settles in my chest, but I nod. “Rain check?”
“Definitely.” She leans across to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Talk to you later?”
Emma helps bring my bag inside before departing with a final kiss that lingers just long enough to make me consider pulling her into the house and convincing her to stay. But I restrain myself, watching her drive away.
Once she’s gone, I pull out my phone and make the call I’ve been planning since I spoke to Maya weeks ago.
“Is this Bradford Custom Ice?” I ask when someone answers. “I want to discuss a private rink installation. Something small, residential. And I need it done quickly.”
The Bears management office hasn’t changed since I signed my contract—same imposing mahogany desk, same team photos lining the walls. What has changed is my position within the organization. Now I’m the star forward whose injury has cost the team momentum early in the season.
GM Phillip Harrison gestures for me to take a seat across from him, his expression unreadable. Coach Barrett stands nearby, arms crossed. Mr. Peterson sits to my left, medical chart open on his lap.
“Mitchell,” Harrison begins. “How’s the knee?”
“Improving,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral. “Ask the doc.”
All eyes turn to Peterson, who clears his throat. “Chase has shown remarkable progress. The concussion symptoms have largely resolved. The meniscus tear is healing well, though not as quickly as we’d hoped.”
“Bottom line,” Coach Barrett cuts in. “When can he skate?”
“Light skating could begin next week,” Peterson explains cautiously. “Non-contact only. Full practice is still at least three weeks away.”
“Games?” Harrison asks.
“Minimum six weeks from now. Possibly eight, depending on progress.”
