Page 186 of Check & Chase
“Chase,” I interrupt, tears already threatening. “What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, he drops to one knee, still holding my hands. “I know it’s fast. I know we still have things to figure out, distance to navigate. But I also know that I love you, that I want forever with you.”
He releases one of my hands to reach into his pocket, producing a small velvet box.
“Maya helped me pick this out,” he reveals, opening it to reveal a ring that takes my breath away. The center stone is a European-cut diamond, about one carat, with small emeralds on either side that catch the light and match my eyes perfectly.
Time seems to stop as he looks up at me, blue eyes reflecting the lights, full of a love so raw and honest it takes my breath away.
“Emma Anderson, will you marry me?”
The tears I’ve been fighting spill over. A thousand thoughts race through my mind—it’s too soon, we live in different cities, my career, his career, the complications that still exist.
But overriding all of that is one simple, undeniable truth: I love this man. Completely, irrevocably, with all the broken and healing parts of myself.
“Yes,” I whisper, then louder, “Yes, Chase. Yes.”
His face breaks into the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen as he slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly, as if it was always meant to be there. Then he’s on his feet, sweeping me into his arms and spinning us around.
When he sets me down, he kisses me—deep, thorough, a promise sealed with the press of his lips against mine.
Neither of us notices the flash of cameras until it’s too late. Local media, tipped off somehow about the proposal, capturing the moment for tomorrow’s headlines. By morning, the photos will be everywhere, our private joy turned public spectacle.
But in this moment, with Chase’s arms around me and the ring on my finger, I can’t bring myself to care who sees or what they think.
“I love you,” I tell him, my voice steady despite the tears still flowing. “So much.”
“Good,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to mine. “Because you just agreed to put up with me for the rest of your life, Anderson.”
“That’s Mitchell to you,” I correct, holding up my left hand. “Or it will be.”
His laugh is joy and relief and love all tangled together. “Emma Mitchell. Has a nice ring to it.”
“Terrible pun,” I groan, but I’m laughing too.
“Get used to it. I have a lifetime of dad jokes just waiting to be unleashed.”
“Lucky me,” I murmur against his lips, meaning it completely.
Lucky, improbable, unexpected. A physical therapist with ice-induced trauma and the hockey star who helped her heal. Rivals, then fake dating, now engaged with a lifetime stretching before us.
Whatever comes next—the rest of the Finals, merging our lives, the professional complications that still need sorting—we’ll face it together.
And that’s better than any championship, any career achievement, any accomplishment either of us could have imagined.
That’s everything.
Chase
Chapter Forty-Three
Light filters through the half-drawn curtains, painting golden stripes across Emma’s bare shoulder. I’ve been awake for twenty minutes, just watching her sleep, memorizing the peaceful curve of her lips, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way her left hand rests near her face, the ring catching the morning light.
My fiancée.
Fucking hell. I’m engaged to Emma Anderson.
The reality of it hits me again, a wave of happiness so intense it’s almost painful. I brush a strand of blonde hair from her face, unable to stop touching her even in sleep. She stirs, eyelids fluttering.
