Page 182 of Check & Chase
“Which surgeon?” I ask automatically.
“Reynolds,” he responds, and I nod in approval. Reynolds is one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the state.
“Good. He’s excellent.” I move closer to the bed. “What exactly did the MRI show?”
“Complete ACL tear with a partial MCL tear. Meniscus damage. Some bone bruising.” He recites the injuries flatly, but I can see the fear beneath his words.
“That’s a rough combination. But not necessarily career-ending with the right surgery and rehabilitation.”
“That’s what they keep telling me,” Tyler responds, not sounding convinced. “Personally, I’m just trying to wrap my head around not playing in the Finals. Worked my whole life for a shot at the Cup, and now…”
“There’ll be other seasons,” Chase offers.
An uncomfortable silence falls. I notice a distinct lack of personal items in the room—no flowers, no cards, no evidence that anyone has visited.
“Has Carina been by?” I ask before I can stop myself.
His laugh is harsh, humorless. “We broke up, so why would she bother? She probably wouldn’t have come even if we were still together.”
“That’s rough,” Chase acknowledges.
“I’m glad she isn’t here.” Tyler’s gaze fixes on our hands, which I realize are automatically linked together. “I’m glad you found someone good, Mitchell.” His eyes shift to me. “And Emma, you always did deserve better than what I gave you.”
The simple acknowledgment settles something inside me—a restless anger I hadn’t realized I was still carrying.
“Thank you for saying that,” I tell him quietly.
“I mean it.” He sighs, shifting again with another wince. “Look, while we’re having this awkward heart-to-heart… I’m sorry. For how things ended with us. For the mess with Carina afterward. For being a complete asshole after we broke up. This—” he gestures to his leg, “—has been a serious wake-up call.”
“Impending career mortality will do that,” I observe.
“Yeah.” He looks between us again. “Anyway, just wanted to say it. I don’t expect forgiveness or anything.”
“It’s a start,” I tell him, surprised to find I mean it. “The forgiveness part… that might take time.”
“Fair enough.” He attempts another smile, more successful this time. “So, you’re heading back to Pinewood today?” he asks Chase.
“Yeah. Team wants us home to prepare for the Finals.” Chase shifts uncomfortably. “Listen, Tyler, about what happened—”
“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Seriously. It was a hockey play. Rodriguez was going to take his head off, and I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Still—”
“We’re good, Mitchell.” Tyler’s voice is firm. “Just bring home the Cup, yeah? Make it worth something.”
Chase nods, a silent promise passing between them.
A nurse enters, clipboard in hand. “Time for pre-op prep, Mr. West.”
We take the cue to leave, saying our goodbyes.
At the door, Tyler calls, “Emma?”
I turn back. “Yeah?”
“If you’re looking for a new player to torture with your physical therapy… I might be in the market soon.”
The olive branch is unexpected but not unwelcome. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
