Page 53 of Check & Chase
I run a hand through my hair, realizing how ridiculous this is going to sound. “Tyler won’t leave her alone. Keeps sending flowers, cornering her at events. And Carina’s been trying to get back together since she and Tyler hit a rough patch.”
“So you decided to fake date to solve both problems,” he concludes slowly, like he’s trying to process this. “That’s either brilliant or the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Jury’s still out,” I admit. “But it’s working so far.”
“Just don’t go screwing the one person who’s responsible for keeping your body in one piece,” he warns, though he’s grinning. “Don’t stick your stick where you get stitched, if you catch my drift.”
I groan. “You’ve been waiting to use that one.”
“Damn right. But seriously, man. Fake or not, if this blows up, it’s your season that’s going down with it.”
“It won’t blow up. We have rules.”
Donovan shakes his head, still looking amused. “Famous last words. Just don’t come crying to me when this fake relationship turns into real feelings.”
Before I can respond to that uncomfortable observation, my phone buzzes. I expect it’s Emma, but the name that flashes across my screen makes me grimace.
Carina.
I debate ignoring it, but curiosity wins out.
Carina:Real classy, Chase. Dating your physical therapist to make me jealous? Desperate much?
I show the text to Donovan, who whistles low. “She’s pissed.”
“Good. That was part of the plan.” I type back a quick response.
Me:Not everything is about you, Carina. Have a nice life.
“Mitchell! Donovan! Team meeting in five!” Coach Barrett’s voice cuts across the locker room.
I tuck my phone away and grab my crutches. “Remember, not a word to anyone.”
“Your secret’s safe,” Donovan promises, though he’s still grinning like this is the most entertaining thing that’s happened all season.
The team meeting is the usual mix of game footage and strategy discussion. I focus on taking mental notes, determined to stay engaged despite being sidelined. But my mind keeps drifting to Emma. To last night’s dinner that felt far too comfortable to be fake.
For something that’s supposed to be just for show, it’s starting to feel suspiciously real. At least on my end.
After the meeting, I head to the medical wing for my daily PT session. Emma’s waiting, her professional mask firmly in place as she greets me with a clipboard.
“How’s the knee today?” she asks, all business.
“Better,” I reply, which isn’t entirely true. It ached all night.
She gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me for a second. “Scale of one to ten?”
“Four,” I lie.
“Try again.”
“Fine. Six. But only because I overdid it yesterday.”
Her expression softens slightly. “That’s why we follow the treatment plan, Chase.”
“I know.” I stretch out my leg, wincing as she begins her assessment. “So, word’s out about us.”
Her hands pause briefly on my knee. “I noticed. Three people stopped me in the hallway to ask about ‘that hot hockey player’ I was seen with.”
