Page 25 of Check & Chase (Breakaway #1)

“So,” Jackson begins once the server departs, “how’s the knee, Mitchell?”

“Improving. Your sister’s an excellent physical therapist.”

“The best. Which is why I was surprised to hear she’s dating a patient. Seems ethically questionable.”

And there it is—right out of the gate.

“It’s not ideal timing,” Chase acknowledges, unfazed. “But some things you don’t plan.”

“Like running into her at a coffee shop? After knowing each other for all of what, a month?”

Chase’s fingers brush against mine under the table. “Sometimes you just know.”

“Bullshit.” Jackson leans forward. “You know what I think? I think you saw an opportunity. Beautiful physical therapist, new to the team, didn’t know your reputation. Easy target.”

“Jack!” I interrupt, heat rushing to my face. “That’s enough.”

“No, it’s okay,” Chase responds, his calmness at odds with the muscle ticking in his jaw. “Your brother’s protective. I respect that.”

“What I don’t respect is a player with a history of inappropriate relationships with medical staff suddenly dating my sister.”

I open my mouth to defend Chase, but he speaks first.

“I understand why you’d be concerned. The rumors about me and my previous PT have followed me. But they’re just that. Rumors .”

“Enlighten me, then. What actually happened?”

Our drinks arrive, providing momentary reprieve. I take a too-large sip of wine.

Once the server leaves, Chase meets Jackson’s gaze directly.

“I was eighteen. New to the league, first serious injury. My PT was thirty-six, married, and decided I’d make a good side project.

When I didn’t reciprocate her advances, she threatened to tell management I was pressuring her for pain meds. ”

The blunt recounting silences even Jackson.

“I recorded our sessions. Brought the evidence to management. They handled it quietly—too quietly. She left with a settlement and her reputation mostly intact. I got traded with a ‘difficult’ label attached to my name.”

Jackson sits back, visibly processing this. “And I’m supposed to just believe that?”

“No. You’re supposed to trust your sister’s judgment. Emma knows the full story. She’s made her own decisions.”

Now both men turn to look at me. “I believe Chase,” I state firmly. “And while I appreciate your concern, Jack, my personal life is my business.”

“It becomes my business when it involves someone with a history of—”

“A history of being taken advantage of as a teenager?” I interrupt. “Of having his career nearly derailed because an authority figure abused her position? That history?”

Jackson has the grace to look uncomfortable. “When you put it that way…”

“There’s no other way to put it. And if you trust me at all, you’ll accept that I know what I’m doing.”

A heavy silence falls, broken only when the server returns for dinner orders. Once we’re alone again, Jackson sighs.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole, Em. I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“I know. But I’m not a kid anymore, Jack. I can make my own decisions.”

“And you’ve decided on a Bear?” He shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Mom’s going to have a fit when you show up to Christmas in blue and white instead of silver and black.”

The joke breaks some of the tension. Chase’s hand finds mine under the table.

“For what it’s worth,” Chase emphasizes, “I’d never do anything to hurt Emma. Professionally or personally.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. It sounds too real for our fake relationship narrative. Jackson must hear it too, because his expression shifts.

“You better not. Because rival team or not, I’ll end you if you do.”

“Fair enough. I’d do the same in your position.”

Just like that, some invisible line is crossed. Not friendship, but a grudging truce. Jackson relaxes marginally, turning the conversation to safer topics. Through it all, Chase’s hand remains linked with mine, his thumb occasionally stroking my palm in a way that sends shivers up my arm.

Dinner progresses civilly, both men making efforts for my sake. By dessert, they’re almost friendly, finding common ground in their mutual disdain for a controversial referee .

“Well,” Jackson says as we finish coffee, “I can’t say I’m thrilled about this development, but Emma seems happy. Happier than she’s been in a while. So I’ll try to keep an open mind.”

The approval, however reluctant, lifts a weight I didn’t realize I’d been carrying. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to play each other in two weeks, and I make no promises about going easy on your boyfriend when he’s back on the ice.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to,” Chase replies easily. “Though I’m still weeks away from being cleared for contact.”

The server drops the check off a few minutes later, and after Jackson grabs it before I can protest, we finish up and head outside together. The cool night air greets us as we step onto the sidewalk, pausing just beyond the restaurant doors. Jackson pulls me into a bear hug.

“Be careful, Em,” he murmurs in my ear. “Not because of him. Because of you. I see the way you look at him.”

The observation makes my chest tight. “I’m fine, Jack. I know what I’m doing.”

He releases me with a skeptical expression, turning to Chase with a final warning disguised as a handshake. “Take care of her, Mitchell.”

“Always,” he promises.

We watch Jackson walk away, standing side by side.

“That went better than expected,” Chase finally offers. “No blood was shed.”

“A miracle, considering. Thank you for coming. And for not taking the bait when he pushed.”

He studies me in the glow of the streetlight. “He loves you. Can’t fault him for that.”

“Still. It wasn’t fair, putting you on the spot about Amber.”

“I’ve had worse interrogations. Besides, it was worth it.”

“Worth it? To get grilled by my brother over expensive steak?”

“Worth it to see you defend me,” he clarifies, voice dropping to a register that makes my pulse quicken. “To hear you say you believe me. ”

The intensity in his gaze makes it hard to breathe. “I do believe you.”

“I know. That’s what makes it special.” His free hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “No one’s ever just… believed me before. Not without proof or recordings or lawyers involved.”

The vulnerability in his admission catches me off guard.

“And thank you for standing by me in there. For trusting me enough to let me into your life, even if it’s just temporary.”

There it is. The acknowledgment of our arrangement, the reminder that this has an expiration date. Yet it feels at odds with the way he’s looking at me.

“We should talk. About what’s happening here. Between us.”

Chase nods, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “We should. But not here, not now. It’s been a long night, and you look cold.”

As if to prove his point, a shiver runs through me.

“My car’s this way. Wait—actually, you should drive. I had wine.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I figured. Come on.”

He falls into step beside me. “But Emma?”

“Hmm?”

“This conversation we need to have? It can’t wait much longer.”

The weight of his words settles between us, a promise and a warning. Because we both know that whatever we say next will change things irrevocably.

“I know. Tomorrow.”

He nods, accepting the delay even as something like anticipation flickers in his eyes. “Tomorrow, then.”

As I slide into the passenger seat, I wonder what tomorrow will bring. What truths will emerge when we finally stop pretending, stop hiding behind the convenient fiction we’ve created.

And whether, when all is said and done, my heart will survive the collision.