Page 181 of Check & Chase
His hand catches my wrist, stilling my movement. “But as much as I want to let you continue, I need to visit Tyler this morning before breakfast.”
The concern I felt yesterday comes rushing back. “How bad is it? I saw him being helped off the ice.”
Chase’s expression turns serious. “His right knee is fucked, Emma. Even worse than mine was.”
“What? How the hell did he play through it?”
“Adrenaline, stubbornness, probably some questionable painkillers from the medical staff.”
I sit up, pulling the sheet with me. “That’s insane. He shouldn’t have been on the ice at all if it was that bad.”
“Welcome to professional hockey.” He sits up beside me, running a hand through his hair. “He’s at Hartford Memorial. You can come with me if you want.”
“Yeah, I want to come,” I nod, my concern outweighing any lingering awkwardness about seeing my ex.
We dress quickly, moving around each other with surprising ease for a couple who hasn’t spent many mornings together recently.
“What?” he asks, catching me watching him.
“Nothing. Just… this is nice. Normal.”
“Yeah.” He wraps his arms around me from behind as I finish brushing my hair. “I could get used to it.”
His words pull at something deep in my chest. “We still live in different cities, Chase. Two hours apart.”
“Details,” he dismisses, kissing the top of my head. “We’ll figure it out.”
We grab coffee and bagels from the café down the street before heading to Hartford Memorial. Chase is quiet during the drive, his fingers drumming restlessly on his thigh.
“You okay?” I ask, glancing over.
“Yeah.” He stops the drumming, flexing his hand. “Just not sure what to say to him, you know? ‘Sorry about your knee’ doesn’t quite cover it.”
“It was a clean hit. Tyler knew the risk when he threw himself in front of Rodriguez.”
“I know. Still feel like shit though.”
I reach across the console to squeeze his knee. “That’s because you’re a good person, Chase Mitchell.”
The hospital is quiet at this hour, visiting hours just beginning. We find Tyler’s room easily, directed by a nurse who clearly recognizes Chase.
I hesitate outside the door, suddenly uncertain. Tyler and I have a complicated history—ex-boyfriend, teammate of my current boyfriend, the man who once broke my heart by cheating.
“You don’t have to do this,” Chase murmurs quietly, reading my hesitation. “I can go in alone.”
“No,” I decide, straightening my shoulders. “I want to.”
Chase knocks softly before we enter. Tyler is propped up in bed, his heavily bandaged knee elevated, face drawn with pain. He looks smaller somehow, removed from the context of the ice and his usual confidence.
“Mitchell,” he greets, voice rough. Then his gaze shifts to me, surprise flickering across his features. “Emma. Didn’t expect to see you.”
“Thought we’d check on you before Chase flies back.”
His mouth twists in what might be an attempt at a smile. “My ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend. Dream team.”
“Tyler—” Chase begins.
“Relax, Mitchell. That wasn’t a dig. Actually appreciate you both coming.” He shifts, wincing with the movement. “Surgery’s scheduled for noon. They’re optimistic about a full recovery.”
