Page 47 of Check & Chase (Breakaway #1)

Chase

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“ M itchell! Get your ass in here!”

Coach’s voice carries across the locker room, turning heads and raising eyebrows. I catch Donovan’s sympathetic glance as I stand, tossing my practice jersey into the laundry bin.

“You’re in for it now,” Miller mutters as I pass. “Worth it, though. That kiss cam stunt was legendary.”

I resist the urge to grin. Three days since the game, and guys are still talking about it. The clip’s everywhere—sports networks, social media, even made a late-night show monologue.

Coach is waiting in his office, arms crossed, expression unreadable. I take the seat across from his desk without being asked.

“Before you start, I know it was against regulations—”

“Mitchell, shut up.”

I close my mouth.

“You broke at least three league rules. Leaving the bench during play. Entering the spectator area. Removing your helmet outside of designated areas.”

I wait for the hammer to fall.

“The league’s fining you ten thousand dollars. ”

I wince but nod.

“And I’m benching you for the first period tonight.”

That stings more than the fine.

“But,” Coach continues, leaning forward, “management has also decided to capitalize on the publicity. They’re selling t-shirts with ‘Worth It’ printed under your number. Pre-orders are already through the roof.”

I blink, trying to process this sudden shift. “So I’m being punished and marketed at the same time?”

“Welcome to professional sports. Just don’t make a habit of it. Next time you want to make a public display, save it for after the damn game.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Mitchell? Hell of a win streak we’re on. Whatever’s happening in your personal life seems to be working for your game. Keep it up.”

I leave his office feeling lighter than when I entered. One period on the bench is a small price to pay.

I’m halfway to my car when Tyler jogs to catch up with me, practice gear slung over his shoulder.

“Got a minute?” he asks, slightly out of breath.

The request surprises me. Despite his unexpected defense of Emma during Carina’s meltdown, we haven’t exactly become friends.

“Sure.”

He shifts uncomfortably, looking everywhere but at my face. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. For Carina. For how I treated Emma after we broke up. For being an asshole about your injury.”

I study him carefully, looking for signs of insincerity. I find none.

“Why now?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Because I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About the kind of person I want to be. And I’m not proud of who I’ve been these past few years.”

There’s a rawness to his voice that catches me off guard.

“I see how you are with Emma. How you treat her. How you look at her. And I realize I never did that. Not with her, not with anyone. I treated people like they were disposable. ”

“Including Carina?”

He winces. “Especially Carina. We broke up, by the way. For real this time. After she showed up here making a scene.”

I’m not surprised.

“Anyway, I just wanted to clear the air. We’re teammates. And I’d like to think maybe someday we could be not enemies, at least.”

I consider his words, weighing them against our history. There’s something genuine in his apology that’s hard to dismiss.

“We’re good.” I extend my hand. “Clean slate.”

Relief washes over his face as he shakes my hand.

“Just one thing,” I warn. “If you ever hurt Emma again, any way, shape, or form, all bets are off. Understood?”

His expression sobers. “Completely. For what it’s worth, I think you’re exactly what she needs. What she deserves.”

Hours later, I find myself in the passenger seat of Maya’s car, navigating through downtown Pinewood toward the jewelry district.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask, palms sweating despite the air conditioning.

Maya gives me a look that clearly questions my intelligence. “Am I sure Emma will want a ring from her fake-turned-real boyfriend after you’ve barely been dating? Maybe. Am I sure you’re going to ask her anyway, because you’re a ridiculous romantic? Absolutely.”

I can’t argue with her assessment. It is fast, lightning fast by normal standards. But nothing about my relationship with Emma has followed a conventional timeline.

“It doesn’t mean we have to get married right away. It’s just a promise. A statement of intent.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” she assures. “I’m Team Chase, remember? Now let’s go find a ring that will make my best friend ugly cry when you propose.”

The jewelry store is upscale but not intimidating. A saleswoman approaches as soon as we enter, her eyes widening slightly with recognition.

“Mr. Mitchell, how can we help you today?”

“Engagement rings,” Maya answers for me. “Something unique but not flashy. Classic with a twist.”

For the next hour, we examine what feels like hundreds of rings. Each beautiful in its own way, but none of them screaming “Emma” to me.

“What about this one?” Sandra suggests, presenting a ring with an emerald-cut diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller stones.

I shake my head. “Too ornate. Emma’s style is simpler.”

“But not boring,” Maya adds. “She likes things with character.”

Sandra disappears into a back room, returning with a small velvet box. “This just came in yesterday. It’s vintage, 1920s. The center stone is a European-cut diamond, about one carat, with small emeralds on either side.”

She opens the box, and both Maya and I lean forward. The ring is stunning, elegant yet distinctive, with delicate filigree work along the platinum band and bright green emeralds that catch the light.

“Those are the exact color of her eyes,” Maya murmurs.

“They are,” I agree, already imagining it on Emma’s finger. “I’ll take it.”

As we complete the purchase, Maya’s phone buzzes with a text. She checks it, her eyes widening.

“It’s Emma. Wondering where I am. We were supposed to meet for coffee.”

“Don’t tell her you’re with me.”

She gives me a withering look. “Obviously. I’m not an amateur.”

We head back to her car, the small velvet box burning a hole in my pocket.

“So when are you going to ask her? ”

“During the road trip. We play in Boston next week, and she’s flying out to meet me. I thought after the game…”

“Outdoors, private but romantic.” Maya nods approvingly. “Not bad, Mitchell.”

When I finally get home, I find Emma in my closet, wearing one of my dress shirts, her legs bare and hair swept up in a messy knot. The sight of her so casually at home in my space makes my chest ache.

“There you are,” she greets, turning to face me. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our dinner plans.”

“Never,” I assure, crossing the room to kiss her. “Just had some errands to run.”

She hums against my lips, her arms sliding around my neck. “Mysterious errands that required you to silence your phone?”

“Very mysterious. Top secret hockey business.”

She pulls back slightly, studying my face. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m acting normal,” I protest, which is a mistake because her eyes narrow further.

“No, definitely weird. What’s going on?”

I scramble for a plausible explanation that isn’t ‘I just bought you an engagement ring.’ “I’m just thinking about house hunting.”

It’s not entirely a lie. I have been considering it, especially as Emma spends more time here.

“House hunting?” she repeats, clearly not expecting this answer. “You’re looking to buy?”

“Maybe. This place is fine, but it’s not really mine, you know? I’m thinking somewhere a little further from downtown, more space…”

“That’s a big step. Putting down roots here. ”

“Yeah. But I’m not going anywhere. The Bears are my team. Pinewood is my home now.”

What I don’t say is that she’s a big part of why.

“Would you help me look? You know the area better than I do.”

A slow smile spreads across her face. “You want me to help you find a house?”

“If you want to. You have good taste. Better than mine, anyway.”

“You’re right about that. But yes, I’ll help you house hunt. It could be fun.”

Relief washes through me. It’s a small step, but an important one.

“We can start looking when I get back from the road trip.”

“Speaking of which,” she continues, her fingers toying with the hair at the nape of my neck, “I booked my flight to Boston. I arrive Friday morning before your game that night.”

“Perfect.” I kiss her forehead, already imagining her face when I propose. “I can’t wait to show you around.”

My phone rings, breaking the moment. I glance at the screen, expecting Donny or Coach. Instead, an unfamiliar number flashes.

“Sorry, I should take this,” I tell Emma, stepping toward the hallway. “Might be about that top-secret hockey business.”

She rolls her eyes but waves me off, turning back to the closet.

I answer the call, moving to the hallway for privacy. “Chase Mitchell speaking.”

“Mr. Mitchell? This is Natalie Winters from the National Hockey League’s ethics commission.”

My stomach drops. The ethics commission only gets involved in serious matters—violations, investigations, the kind of things that can derail careers.

“How can I help you, Ms. Winters?” I ask, keeping my voice calm despite the alarm bells ringing in my head.

“I’m calling to inform you that the commission has received a formal complaint regarding your relationship with a member of the Bears’ medical staff, Emma Anderson. ”

The floor seems to shift beneath my feet. “A complaint? On what grounds?”

“Allegations of professional misconduct and favoritism. Given your history with a previous physical therapist at your former organization, the commission is taking this very seriously.”

My blood runs cold. They’re bringing up the scandal from when I was eighteen. The situation that nearly ended my career before it began.

“This is completely different,” I insist, struggling to keep my voice down so Emma won’t hear. “Emma recused herself from my care as soon as our relationship became serious. There’s been no misconduct or favoritism.”

“Those are matters for the investigation to determine. You’ll receive formal documentation within forty-eight hours, and both you and Ms. Anderson will be expected to cooperate fully.”

My mind races, connecting dots. Carina. It has to be. Who else would have the motivation to try to destroy what Emma and I have built?

“Ms. Winters, I believe this complaint may be retaliatory in nature. My ex-girlfriend has been harassing both me and Ms. Anderson—”

“Any context will be considered during the investigation,” she interrupts. “For now, I suggest you consult with your agent and the Bears’ legal team. Good day, Mr. Mitchell.”

The call ends, leaving me standing frozen in the hallway, my perfect evening, my perfect future, suddenly in jeopardy.

“Chase?” Emma calls from the bedroom. “Everything okay?”

I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. Emma has worked so hard for her position with the Bears. Her career means everything to her. And now, because of me, because of us, it’s under threat.

The ring box in my pocket suddenly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

“Yeah,” I call back, the lie bitter on my tongue. “Everything’s fine.”

Fuck.