Page 41 of Check & Chase
“If you say so.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
The photographer arranges us in various poses: me seated due to the crutches, Donovan and the alternate captains standing behind. It’s a painful reminder that I should be in those leadership photos based on merit, not injury accommodations.
By the time we finish, the gala is in full swing. I exchange my empty club soda for a fresh one and scan the room. That’s when I spot her.
Emma stands near the bar, engaged in a conversation with Mr. Peterson and an older couple I don’t recognize. She’s wearing a deep green dress that hugs her curves, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders instead of pulled back in her usual ponytail. She looks stunning.
And completely uncomfortable, if the tension in her shoulders is anything to go by.
I’m debating whether to head in her direction when Carina materializes at my side, manicured hand sliding onto my arm.
“Chase,” she purrs, red lips curving into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “You look handsome tonight. Crutches and all.”
I step back, breaking the contact. “Carina. Shouldn’t you be with your date?”
“Tyler’s busy discussing trade prospects with the GM.” She waves dismissively. “I got bored.”
“Not my problem.”
Her smile falters slightly before returning full force. “Don’t be like that. We were good together once, weren’t we?”
“Until you fucked my teammate.” The words come out harsher than I intended, drawing glances from nearby sponsors’ wives. I lower my voice. “What do you want?”
“Maybe I miss you,” she confesses, stepping closer. “Maybe I made a mistake.”
“Maybe you should go find Tyler before he notices you throwing yourself at me.” I take another step back, wincing as my knee protests. “Or is that the plan? Make him jealous?”
A flash of anger crosses her face, quickly masked. “Not everything is about Tyler.”
“With you? Yeah, it is.”
Her gaze drifts past me, her expression calculating. I turn to follow her line of sight and find Tyler watching us, his expression thunderous. Buthe’s not looking at Carina. He’s looking at Emma, who’s now alone at the bar, her back to us.
“Interesting,” she murmurs. “Guess I’m not the only one with history in this room.”
“Leave her alone,” I warn, the words coming out before I can stop them.
Carina’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rise. “Her? The new PT?” Her eyes narrow as understanding dawns. “Oh, I see. You’ve got a thing for her.”
“I don’t have a ‘thing’ for anyone.” I deliberately misinterpret her words. “Unlike some people, I don’t shit where I eat.”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “I saw you watching her the moment she walked in. Does she know you have a type? Medical staff with access to painkillers?”
The implication makes my blood boil. The rumor Amber had spread after things went south. That I was using her for prescription drugs. It was a lie, but one that followed me to Pinewood.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I respond coldly. “And this conversation is over.”
I turn to leave, but Carina catches my arm. “Tyler told me about her, you know. His ex. Said she was frigid. Good luck with that.”
I shake off her hand, resisting the urge to say something I’ll regret. “Goodbye, Carina.”
As I make my way across the ballroom toward Emma, I catch Tyler moving in the same direction. Perfect. Just what this night needs: a confrontation with West while I’m on crutches.
Emma sees him coming. I watch her posture stiffen, her knuckles whitening around her champagne flute. She looks around for an escape, but she’s backed against the bar with no easy exit.
I pick up my pace, ignoring the protest from my knee.
Carina has apparently decided to follow the drama, because she intercepts Tyler before he reaches Emma. Their heated exchange is just audible from where I am.
