Page 15 of Check & Chase (Breakaway #1)

Chase

Chapter Eight

“ M andatory team appearance” has to be my least favorite phrase in the English language, narrowly beating “alcohol-free beer.” Especially when said appearance involves standing around for hours in a stuffy ballroom making small talk with sponsors while my knee throbs like it’s got its own heartbeat.

But here I am anyway, leaning heavily on one crutch while clutching a club soda in my free hand, smiling through gritted teeth as Mr. Henderson from Henderson Financial explains hockey to me. Yes, me. The guy who’s played professionally for eight years.

“The thing about the power play,” he says, taking a swig of his whiskey, “is that you really need to capitalize on those opportunities. That’s how you win games.”

“Fascinating insight,” I reply, searching the room for any possible escape route. “I’ll be sure to mention that to Coach.”

October in Pinewood means the annual Bears Foundation Gala—a black-tie fundraiser where players mingle with sponsors and anyone willing to drop five hundred dollars on a ticket to support youth hockey programs. Usually, I enjoy these events. Tonight, I’d rather be anywhere else .

My knee has been acting up all day, punishment for pushing too hard during the PT session the other day. I haven’t told Emma, of course. She’d give me that look. The one that’s half concern, half “I told you so.”

Things have been weird between us since those flowers appeared in her office. Something shifted. We used to laugh. Now she barely looks at me unless it’s to give instructions. The walls are back, and I don’t know how to get through them.

It bothers me more than it should.

“Mitchell!” Donovan appears at my side, a welcome interruption. “Sorry to steal him, but the team photographer needs some shots of the leadership group.”

I’ve never been more grateful for a photo op in my life.

As soon as we’re out of earshot, I sigh in relief. “You’re a fucking lifesaver, Donny.”

“You looked like you were contemplating jabbing that crutch through your eye just to escape.” He grins, guiding me toward the photographer. “How’s the knee?”

“Fine,” I lie, shifting to take some weight off it.

“Bullshit, but I’ll pretend to believe you.” Donovan’s gaze sweeps the room. “Heads up. Your favorite people just arrived.”

I follow his line of sight and feel my mood plummet further. Tyler West stands at the entrance, Carina on his arm. She’s wearing a red dress that’s practically painted on.

“Perfect,” I mutter. “Just what this night needed.”

“Want me to spill something on them? I’m the captain now. I can get away with it.”

I laugh. “Tempting, but no. I’m over both of them.”

“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. But he’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 .

“Really?” She hisses. “You’re going to ignore me to chase after your ex?”

Tyler glances between Carina and Emma. “It’s not like that. Emma and I have history. We’re friends.”

“Friends?” She laughs, sharp and bitter. “Is that why you can’t keep your eyes off her? Or why you sent those flowers to her office?”

So Tyler was behind the flowers. I’d suspected as much, but having it confirmed sends a fresh wave of anger through me.

“She still wants me,” Tyler declares, loud enough for nearby guests to glance over. “Always has. We have unfinished business.”

Carina’s face flushes with anger. “Unfinished business? What does that make me? A distraction until she’s available again?”

“Carina—”

“Save it.” She grabs a champagne flute from a passing waiter and throws the contents in Tyler’s face before storming toward the exit, leaving him sputtering and wiping at his ruined tuxedo.

The brief spectacle gives me time to reach Emma, who’s watching the scene unfold. She jumps slightly when I appear beside her.

“Having fun yet?” I ask, leaning against the bar to take weight off my knee.

“Thrilling,” she replies dryly. “Nothing like watching your ex and his current girlfriend create a scene at a work function.”

“Ex-girlfriend, I think, after that display.” I nod toward Tyler, who’s now patting his face with a cocktail napkin. “He’s heading this way.”

Emma sighs, setting down her barely-touched champagne. “I should go. I’ve made my mandatory appearance.”

“Or,” I suggest, struck by sudden inspiration, “you could stay and give West something to really be upset about.”

She eyes me suspiciously. “What are you suggesting?”

“A little harmless theater.” I shift closer, lowering my voice. “He wants to make you jealous with Carina. Why not return the favor?”

“By pretending we’re…” She trails off, eyes wi dening.

“Just a suggestion.” I shrug. “No pressure. But he is about fifteen seconds away.”

Emma hesitates, glancing between me and the approaching Tyler. Decision made, she moves closer, her hand coming to rest lightly on my arm.

“If he says anything inappropriate, I’m using your crutch as a weapon,” she warns, but there’s a hint of amusement in her eyes that’s been missing since the flower incident.

“I’ll hold him down for you,” I promise, just as Tyler reaches us.

His gaze drops to Emma’s hand on my arm, then rises to my face, hostility radiating from him in waves. “Mitchell. Didn’t expect to see you standing.”

“West.” I smile pleasantly. “Didn’t expect to see you drenched in Moet. New cologne?”

Emma stifles a laugh, her fingers tightening slightly on my arm. Tyler’s face darkens.

“Emma,” he says, ignoring my comment. “Can we talk? Privately?”

“Actually,” Emma replies, her voice steady though I can feel the tension in her touch, “Chase and I were just about to get some air. The ballroom’s a bit… stuffy.”

She looks up at me, a silent plea in her eyes. I slip my arm around her waist, pulling her gently against my side.

“Can’t leave a beautiful woman waiting,” I tell Tyler with a deliberately provocative smile. “I’m sure you understand.”

His gaze flicks between us, suspicion warring with anger on his face. “Since when are you two so cozy?”

“Since none of your business,” Emma replies coolly. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

I feel a surge of admiration for her calm dismissal. Most people tend to engage with Tyler’s bullshit, giving him exactly the reaction he wants. Emma just shuts him down completely.