Page 160 of Check & Chase
“Emma,” he continues, his voice gentling. “Talk to me. Please.”
The genuine concern breaks something inside me. “What do you want me to say, Jackson? That I made a massive career decision while emotionally devastated? That I can’t stop thinking about Chase standing in that parking lot, asking me not to go?”
“For starters, yes.” He sets down his fork. “Because all of that is obviously true, and watching you pretend otherwise is painful.”
I close my eyes briefly, fighting tears that seem perpetually close to the surface. “It doesn’t matter what I’m feeling. I made a commitment to the Wolves. I signed a contract.”
“Contracts can be broken,” Jackson points out. “If you’re truly unhappy…”
“I’ve been here three days. No one knows if they’re truly happy with a job after three days.”
“This isn’t about the job, Emma. It’s about Chase.”
The sound of his name sends a physical pang through me. “He broke my heart. He made a decision about our relationship without even asking what I wanted.”
“Because he realizes he was wrong? Because he’s clearly miserable without you? Because you’re clearly miserable without him?”
I stare at my brother, momentarily speechless. “Since when are you Team Chase? You hated him from the moment you found out we were dating.”
“I didn’t hate him. I was suspicious of his intentions, given his reputation. But I’ve watched him put his career on the line for you multiple times now. Those aren’t the actions of someone who doesn’t care.”
His support of Chase is so unexpected that I don’t know how to respond. Jackson has been my protective older brother for as long as I can remember, the one who warned me about hockey players.
“I called him, you know,” Jackson mentions when I stay silent.
“Why?”
Jackson shrugs. “Figured someone should let him know you were alive and breathing. He was going out of his mind.”
My stomach twists. “He could have just called me.”
“Would you have answered?”
I swallow. “This is so complicated.”
“Love usually is. Especially when it’s real.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he speaks before I can get a word out.
“You don’t have to admit it to me, Em. It’s written all over your face every time someone mentions his name. You light up and then shut down, as if you’re fighting against your own feelings.”
“It doesn’t matter what I feel. He ended things. I’m moving on.”
“But you don’t have to. You could fight for this if you wanted to.”
Do I want to fight for this? The question has been eating at me since I saw him in that parking lot, his hair messy from practice, those blue eyes desperate as he begged me not to leave.
“I need to focus on settling in here. On proving myself to the Wolves.”
“Fair enough. Just don’t use work as an excuse to avoid making a decision about what you really want, Em. Life’s too short for that.”
Back in my hotel room, I stand at the window overlooking the city lights, phone heavy in my hand. Chase’s last text, sent two days ago, remains unanswered.
Chase:I miss you, Em.
There’s something in the way he holds back, in the way he gives me space instead of chasing me down. The Chase I used to know wouldn’t have waited. He would’ve shown up, all swagger and stubbornness, demanding we talk right now.
But this quiet patience feels like growth.
