Page 32 of Check & Chase
Fuck. Just what I needed today.
She’s making her way down toward the bench area, wearing a Bears jersey that I’m pretty sure used to be mine. Her red-lipped smile is predatory as our eyes meet.
“Chase,” she calls, waving as if we’re still on good terms.
I grab my crutches and move as quickly as I can, hoping to escape before she reaches me. No such luck.
“Chase, wait!” She catches up just as I reach the hallway. “I heard about your knee. I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Fine,” I reply curtly. “Shouldn’t you be checking on Tyler? Since you’re such a concerned girlfriend and all.”
Her smile falters slightly. “We’re going through a rough patch.”
“My heart bleeds for you.”
“Don’t be like that.” She reaches for my arm, but I shift away. “What happened between us—”
“What happened,” I cut her off, “is that you fucked my teammate while we were still together. There’s no ‘us’ to discuss.”
Her expression hardens. “You weren’t exactly boyfriend of the year, Chase. What was I supposed to do?”
“Not sleep with Tyler West would have been a good start.”
She tosses her hair back, a move that used to drive me wild but now just seems calculated. “I made a mistake. People deserve second chances.”
“Not from me, they don’t.”
“But—”
“I’ve got PT,” I interrupt, continuing down the hallway. “Enjoy the game tonight.”
As I hobble away, I hear her call after me, “I saw your new physical therapist, by the way. She’s pretty. Wonder how long before you charm your way into her bed too.”
I ignore her, but the barb hits closer to home than I’d like. Carina doesn’t know about my history with Emma, but she knows about the scandal with my previous PT.
I push thoughts of that aside as I head to the medical wing for my scheduled PT session. Emma’s already there when I arrive, setting up equipment in the treatment room. She glances up as I enter, her professional mask firmly in place.
“You’re late.”
“Good morning to you too, Blondie.” I maneuver myself onto the table, propping my crutches nearby. “Traffic was hell in the fifteen-foot hallway from the rink.”
Emma’s lips twitch, almost a smile. “How’s the knee today?”
“Better,” I tell her, which isn’t entirely true. The dull, constant ache remains.
“Any unusual swelling or pain?”
I think about my near-altercation with West, the way my knee protested when I lunged forward. “Nope. All normal.”
She eyes me suspiciously but doesn’t press. Instead, she begins her usual assessment, fingers probing gently around my knee. Even through her latex gloves, her touch sends a current through me that has nothing to do with pain.
“The swelling has decreased slightly,” she notes. “Any pain with the exercises I assigned yesterday?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“That’s not what I asked, Chase.”
I sigh, caught in my evasion. “Fine. The quad sets were uncomfortable. Seven out of ten by the end of the final set.”
