Page 89 of Check & Chase
“Well,” Emma begins once we’re alone. “That was…”
“Mortifying? Dramatic? A perfect example of why you shouldn’t date teammates’ exes?”
“I was going to say ‘unexpected,’ but all of those work too.” A small smile plays at her mouth, though her eyes remain troubled. “Are you okay?”
The question catches me off guard. After everything—Carina’s accusations, the public spectacle—Emma’s first concern is forme.
“I’m fine. More worried about you. That was a lot, and you were already dealing with the ice thing.”
She waves away my concern, though I notice her gaze carefully avoiding the rink. “Professional hazard. Plus, I’m used to dramatic patients.”
“Is that what I am to you? Just a patient with a complicated personal life?”
Her expression shifts. “You know you’re more than that, Chase.”
“Do I?”
“We should get you to the treatment room. I need to do a physical assessment after your first time on the ice.”
I consider pushing, demanding the conversation we’ve been avoiding. But the public arena isn’t the place. So I nod, following Emma to the treatment room.
As she closes the door, she gestures for me to sit on the table. Neither of us speaks as she removes the knee brace and begins her assessment.
“How did it really feel?” she asks finally. “On the ice. The truth this time.”
“Good. Stable. A little tight, but no pain.”
She nods, continuing her examination. “The structural integrity is definitely improving.”
“You were scared,” I observe quietly. “When I was on the ice. Not for my knee, but because of the ice itself.”
Emma stills, her pen hovering above the clipboard. For a moment, I think she’ll deny it. But she surprises me.
“Yes. It’s stupid, I know.”
“It’s not stupid. Fear isn’t rational, Emma. Especially not when it’s tied to trauma.”
“I should be over it by now. It’s been ten years.”
“Some scars take longer to heal.” I gesture to my knee. “And they all leave marks, visible or not.”
She lets out a shaky sigh. “I was scared for you too. When you stepped onto the ice. Scared your knee wouldn’t hold.”
“I know. I could see it in your face. You care.”
“Of course I care. You’re my patient.”
“Just your patient?” I press.
Emma meets my gaze, conflicting emotions warring in her eyes. “You know it’s more complicated than that.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Doesn’t it?” Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. “You heard Mr. Peterson’s warnings. My job, my reputation—”
“We can figure it out.” I tug her close, until she’s standing between my knees. “If this is real, Emma, what’s between us, then we find a way.”
“And is it? Real?”
