Page 163 of Check & Chase
“I love you too,” he responds, brushing his thumb gently across my cheek to catch another tear. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“There’s a coffee shop around the corner,” I mention, the words surprising me almost as much as him. “They open at seven. Maybe we could meet there tomorrow before you head back to Pinewood?”
Hope blooms across his features, transforming exhaustion into something lighter, brighter. “I’d like that. Very much.”
“Just coffee,” I clarify, needing boundaries even as I extend this invitation. “Just talking. Seeing where we stand.”
“Just coffee,” he agrees readily. “On your terms, at your pace.”
He steps toward the door again, his hand brushing the handle. Then he pauses, turning to look at me one last time. His voice is quiet, almost reverent.
“I choose you. I’ve been choosing you since I saw you again, and I’ll keep choosing you if you’ll let me. You’re not just another chapter in my story, Emma. You’re the whole damn book.”
And then he’s gone.
When the door clicks shut behind him, I sink onto the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. My heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of my chest. Seeing him again, hearing his voice, feeling his arms around me, kissing him—it’s cracked something wide open.
I’ve spent so long trying to shove those feelings down. But Jackson was right. Some things don’t just fade. Some people burrow in deep and stay there, no matter how far you run.
Chase
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Iwake up before my alarm, the unfamiliar hotel room taking a moment to register before yesterday’s memories come flooding back. Emma. Hartford. Five minutes that somehow stretched into something more significant—not forgiveness, not reconciliation, but an open door where before there had been only walls.
Coffee. This morning. A chance to see her again, to talk without the shock of my sudden appearance lingering in the background.
I check the time—5:37 a.m. The coffee shop doesn’t open until seven, leaving me with nearly ninety minutes to overthink everything.
By 6:45, I can’t wait any longer. I leave the hotel and walk the few blocks to the coffee shop, arriving five minutes before they open. The morning is cool, the streets of downtown Hartford just beginning to stir.
At precisely seven, the barista unlocks the door. I choose a table near the window but not directly visible from the street.
At 7:14, the door opens, and there she is. Hair pulled back in a messy bun, minimal makeup, dressed in jeans and a green sweater that makes her eyes seem impossibly bright.
She spots me right away, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she walks over. I get to my feet, fighting the urge to reach for her.
“You came,” I say, unable to hide my relief.
“I said I would. I keep my promises.”
The implied criticism isn’t lost on me, but it’s fair. I broke promises, broke trust, broke us.
We approach the counter together, careful inches of space between us. Emma orders a vanilla latte, and I get plain black coffee.
Back at the table, an awkward silence falls. I take a sip of my drink, searching for the right words.
“How’s the hotel?”
“Adequate. Temporary. I’m moving into my new apartment next week.”
“So you’re definitely staying with the Wolves.”
She meets my eyes directly. “Yes. I signed a contract, Chase. It’s a major career opportunity. I’m not walking away from that.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to. Your career matters. What you’ve worked for matters. I just want to find a way to matter too. Alongside it, not in opposition to it.”
Something flickers in her expression—surprise, perhaps, at this acknowledgment. “That’s different from how you’ve approached things before.”
