Page 137 of Check & Chase
I set my phone down with a sigh. “Chase is acting weird.”
“Weird how?” She frowns, stirring her latte with more force than necessary. “Like ‘I’m about to do something romantic and I’m bad at keeping secrets’ weird, or ‘I’m a man with the emotional communication skills of a potato’ weird?”
“Neither. More like… worried weird. Like something’s bothering him, but he won’t tell me what.”
Maya’s expression shifts subtly, something flickering across her face too quickly to interpret. “Maybe it’s just hockey stuff. The road trip coming up, pressure from the coaches.”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. I lunge for it, hoping it’s Chase with an explanation for his strange behavior. Instead, it’s Mr. Peterson.
Mr. Peterson:Need to see you in my office ASAP. Emergency meeting.
A cold weight settles in my stomach like I just swallowed ice. Emergency meetings don’t happen on Saturdays unless something has gone seriously wrong.
“I have to go,” I tell Maya, already gathering my things with hands that have started to shake. “Peterson needs me for an emergency meeting.”
“On a Saturday?” Her brow furrows with genuine concern. “That’s not normal.”
“No,” I agree, dread pooling in my chest. “It’s not.”
The facility seems unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon. My footsteps echo in the empty hallway as I make my way to Mr. Peterson’s office, each step feeling heavier than the last.
When I reach his door, I’m surprised to find it open, with several people inside. Mr. Peterson sits behind his desk, looking like he’s aged years since our last conversation. Beside him stands Ms. Howard, the Bears’ HR director, and Mr. Vaughn, the team’s legal counsel—a lineup that makes my stomach plummet to somewhere around my ankles.
“Emma,” Mr. Peterson begins. “Thank you for coming in. Please, have a seat.”
I sit in the only empty chair, acutely aware of how the three pairs of eyes that are focusing on me. The air in the room feels thick, charged with the kind of tension that precedes life-changing conversations.
“What’s going on?” I ask, though part of me already dreads the answer.
Ms. Howard clears her throat, the sound sharp in the silence. “We’ve received notification from the league’s ethics commission that a complaint has been filed against you.”
What the fuck. “A complaint? About what?”
“Your relationship with Chase Mitchell,” Mr. Vaughn replies, sliding a folder across the desk. “Specifically, allegations of professional misconduct and favoritism in his treatment.”
I stare at the folder without opening it, my vision tunneling slightly as the implications crash over me. “That’s ridiculous. I recused myself from Chase’s care weeks ago. Mr. Peterson can verify that.”
“I have,” Mr. Peterson confirms, his tone supportive but strained. “But the complaint alleges that you continued to influence his treatment plan even after the official recusal.”
“That’s not true,” I protest, heat rising in my cheeks as anger begins to cut through the shock. “Mr. Richards has been handling Chase’s treatment exclusively.”
“We believe you,” Ms. Howard says gently, though the words feel inadequate against the magnitude of what’s happening. “But the ethics commission has to investigate any formal complaint.”
The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. The kiss cam. The viral video. The media attention that painted us as some kind of fairy tale romance.
“Who filed the complaint?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer.
Mr. Vaughn shakes his head. “The source is confidential.”
“It was Carina Reed, wasn’t it?” I press, needing confirmation even though my gut already knows. “Chase’s ex-girlfriend.”
The three exchange glances but remain silent, which tells me all I need to know.
“This is a witch hunt,” I snap. “She’s trying to punish Chase for moving on.”
“Regardless of the motivation,” Mr. Vaughn responds evenly, “we have to treat this seriously.”
“What does that mean for my job?” The question comes out smaller than intended, vulnerability bleeding through my professional facade.
