Page 25 of Check & Chase
It’s not how I planned to spend October, but I’m starting to think it might not be so bad after all.
Emma
Chapter Five
“Yes, Mr. Peterson, I understand the need for an aggressive approach, but we still need to respect the timeline.”
I pace the worn hardwood floor of the rental house Maya and I share, phone pressed to my ear. Peterson called at eight this morning to discuss Chase Mitchell’s knee like it’s a matter of national security.
“The Bears’ season opener is in two days,” he reminds me. “The team needs a clear timeline for Mitchell’s return.”
“His MCL is completely torn. The timeline is six weeks minimum, and that’s if he follows the protocol.” I stop at the window, watching rain drizzle down the glass. “I’ve outlined a comprehensive rehabilitation plan that prioritizes stability and strength. If he follows it, he has the best possible chance for a full recovery.”
“And if he doesn’t follow it?”
“Then I’ll document his non-compliance, and the Bears’ management can decide how to handle a player who prioritizes his ego over his health.”
Peterson chuckles. “You don’t pull punches, do you?”
“Not when it comes to my patients.”
“Fair enough. I’ve reviewed your treatment plan, and it’s solid. You have my full support. Just be prepared for resistance. Mitchell isn’t known for his cooperation with medical staff.”
After ending the call, I toss my phone onto the couch, rubbing my eyes. I spent most of last night researching the latest protocols for Grade 3 MCL tears, all while trying not to think about the way Chase looked at me as I left his house yesterday.
Like he could see right through my professional demeanor to the woman who’d come apart in his arms a year ago.
“Coffee’s ready!” Maya calls from the kitchen, her voice raspier than usual from her night shift at the pediatric ward.
I follow the heavenly aroma to our kitchen.
“You’re an angel,” I say, accepting the steaming mug Maya holds out.
She leans against the counter in her scrubs, dark circles under her eyes. “How’s your hockey boy?”
“Not my hockey boy. His MRI confirmed what I suspected. Grade 3 MCL tear. Six-week recovery minimum.”
Maya winces. “How’d he take it?”
“About as well as you’d expect. He thinks he’ll be back on the ice in a couple of weeks.”
“Men are idiots. Especially hot ones you’ve fooled around with.”
I glare at her over my mug. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Not until I’m old and gray.” She grins. “So, you’re heading to his place this morning?”
“Nine o’clock. His first official PT session.” I check the time on the microwave. 8:30. “I should get going soon.”
“Try not to jump his bones while you’re stretching his leg.”
“Maya! He’s my patient.”
“Mmhmm.” She takes a sip of her coffee, eyebrows raised. “Keep telling yourself that, babe.”
Once I’ve finished my coffee, I head to my bedroom to get ready. I pull on black trousers, a soft gray blouse, and loop a simple gold necklace around my neck. After settling on a ponytail, I pack my PT bag with resistance bands, massage tools, and the treatment plan I spent hours developing.
Then I grab my phone, intending to check traffic, but find myself scrolling to Jackson’s contact info instead. I should call him before my day gets crazy.
