Page 48 of Check & Chase (Breakaway #1)

Emma

Chapter Thirty

S omething’s wrong with Chase.

He’s been off since last night—distracted during dinner, his kisses mechanical, distant even when he was holding me. At first, I brushed it off as pregame nerves. But even after they won, something remained broken in his smile.

It’s only gotten worse since he left for morning skate. His texts are shorter, less playful. No ridiculous emojis or flirty comments.

Chase: Practice is running long. I’ll see you at the facility later.

I stare at my phone, trying to decode what isn’t being said. The stark difference from his usual stream of messages sends unease crawling up my spine.

“You’re going to burn a hole through that screen,” Maya comments, sliding into the chair across from me at the coffee shop where we’d planned to meet for our usual Saturday morning catch-up.

I set my phone down with a sigh. “Chase is acting weird.”

“Weird how?” She frowns, stirring her latte with more force than necessary. “Like ‘I’m about to do something romantic and I’m bad at keeping secrets’ weird, or ‘I’m a man with the emotional communication skills of a potato’ weird? ”

“Neither. More like… worried weird. Like something’s bothering him, but he won’t tell me what.”

Maya’s expression shifts subtly, something flickering across her face too quickly to interpret. “Maybe it’s just hockey stuff. The road trip coming up, pressure from the coaches.”

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. I lunge for it, hoping it’s Chase with an explanation for his strange behavior. Instead, it’s Mr. Peterson.

Mr. Peterson: Need to see you in my office ASAP. Emergency meeting.

A cold weight settles in my stomach like I just swallowed ice. Emergency meetings don’t happen on Saturdays unless something has gone seriously wrong.

“I have to go,” I tell Maya, already gathering my things with hands that have started to shake. “Peterson needs me for an emergency meeting.”

“On a Saturday?” Her brow furrows with genuine concern. “That’s not normal.”

“No,” I agree, dread pooling in my chest. “It’s not.”

The facility seems unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon. My footsteps echo in the empty hallway as I make my way to Mr. Peterson’s office, each step feeling heavier than the last.

When I reach his door, I’m surprised to find it open, with several people inside.

Mr. Peterson sits behind his desk, looking like he’s aged years since our last conversation.

Beside him stands Ms. Howard, the Bears’ HR director, and Mr. Vaughn, the team’s legal counsel—a lineup that makes my stomach plummet to somewhere around my ankles.

“Emma,” Mr. Peterson begins. “Thank you for coming in. Please, have a seat. ”

I sit in the only empty chair, acutely aware of how the three pairs of eyes that are focusing on me. The air in the room feels thick, charged with the kind of tension that precedes life-changing conversations.

“What’s going on?” I ask, though part of me already dreads the answer.

Ms. Howard clears her throat, the sound sharp in the silence. “We’ve received notification from the league’s ethics commission that a complaint has been filed against you.”

What the fuck . “A complaint? About what?”

“Your relationship with Chase Mitchell,” Mr. Vaughn replies, sliding a folder across the desk. “Specifically, allegations of professional misconduct and favoritism in his treatment.”

I stare at the folder without opening it, my vision tunneling slightly as the implications crash over me. “That’s ridiculous. I recused myself from Chase’s care weeks ago. Mr. Peterson can verify that.”

“I have,” Mr. Peterson confirms, his tone supportive but strained. “But the complaint alleges that you continued to influence his treatment plan even after the official recusal.”

“That’s not true,” I protest, heat rising in my cheeks as anger begins to cut through the shock. “Mr. Richards has been handling Chase’s treatment exclusively.”

“We believe you,” Ms. Howard says gently, though the words feel inadequate against the magnitude of what’s happening. “But the ethics commission has to investigate any formal complaint.”

The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. The kiss cam. The viral video. The media attention that painted us as some kind of fairy tale romance.

“Who filed the complaint?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer.

Mr. Vaughn shakes his head. “The source is confidential.”

“It was Carina Reed, wasn’t it?” I press, needing confirmation even though my gut already knows. “Chase’s ex-girlfriend.”

The three exchange glances but remain silent, which tells me all I need to know .

“This is a witch hunt,” I snap. “She’s trying to punish Chase for moving on.”

“Regardless of the motivation,” Mr. Vaughn responds evenly, “we have to treat this seriously.”

“What does that mean for my job?” The question comes out smaller than intended, vulnerability bleeding through my professional facade.

Ms. Howard leans forward, her expression sympathetic but firm. “During the investigation, you’ll be placed on temporary leave with pay. This is standard procedure.”

“You’re suspending me?” My voice rises despite my efforts to stay calm. “Over baseless accusations from a jealous ex?”

“It’s administrative leave,” Mr. Peterson corrects, though he looks unhappy about the distinction. “And it’s temporary. Just until the investigation concludes, which should be within two weeks.”

Two weeks of sitting at home while my professional reputation gets dissected by strangers, while colleagues whisper about whether the accusations might be true.

“Does Chase know?” I ask, suddenly remembering his strange behavior, the pieces falling into place with devastating clarity.

Mr. Peterson nods grimly. “He was notified yesterday evening.”

That explains everything. The distance, the worry, the broken smile. He knew this was coming and didn’t tell me, probably trying to protect me from something he couldn’t control.

“The Bears organization supports you, Emma,” Mr. Peterson adds finally. “We know your character and professionalism. This is unfortunate, but we’ll get through it.”

I appreciate his vote of confidence, but it does little to calm the storm building inside me.

After the meeting, I leave the office with my head held high, refusing to show how badly I’m shaken despite the tremor in my hands. I’ve almost made it to the exit when I hear my name being called .

I turn to find Chase jogging down the hallway toward me, still in his practice gear, hair damp with sweat and eyes wild with something between panic and determination.

“Emma,” he pants, breathless from running. “Maya said you were coming. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Really?” My voice comes out sharper than intended, edged with hurt and betrayal.

His face falls like a house of cards. “You know.”

“Just found out,” I confirm, crossing my arms defensively. “Emergency meeting with Peterson, HR, and legal. Quite the welcoming committee.”

“I wanted to tell you,” he rushes out, reaching for my hands with desperate urgency. “I was going to last night, but you seemed so happy, and I thought maybe I could fix it before—”

“Fix it?” I interrupt, pulling my hands away from his touch. “How exactly were you planning to fix an ethics investigation without even telling me it existed?”

He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in agitated spikes. “I was going to confront Carina. I know it was her who filed the complaint.”

“And say what? ‘Please stop ruining my girlfriend’s career because you’re jealous’?” I shake my head, amazed at his naivety. “That would only make things worse.”

“Em…”

“Promise me,” I say, softening my tone as I see the genuine anguish in his eyes. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

“I can’t just sit back and watch them hurt you.”

“You have to,” I insist, reaching up to touch his face. “For my sake, if not your own.”

The fight seems to drain out of him, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

Relief washes through me. “Thank you. ”

He steps closer, touching my cheek gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I thought I could handle it, spare you the stress.”

“I don’t need to be protected from the truth, Chase.” I lean into his touch despite my frustration. “I need you to trust me enough to face it together.”

A few hours later, I’m driving home. My mind in a daze as it cycles through the implications like a broken record. By the time I reach my house, I’m a volatile mixture of anger and anxiety, my hands still shaking as I turn the key in the lock.

Maya is waiting in the living room, looking up expectantly as I enter. One look at my face tells her everything she needs to know.

“That bad?” she asks.

“Worse,” I mutter, dropping onto the couch beside her like a marionette with cut strings. “I’ve been placed on administrative leave pending an ethics investigation into my relationship with Chase.”

“What?” She sits up straight, outrage written across her face in bold letters. “That’s bullshit! You recused yourself from his care!”

“Try telling that to Carina Reed ,” I reply bitterly. “She filed a formal complaint with the league.”

Maya’s face twists with anger. “That vindictive bitch. Can they even do this? Put you on leave over accusations with no evidence?”

“Standard procedure, apparently.” I pull the statement from my bag, handing it to her with hands that still tremble slightly. “They’ve prepared this for me to sign.”

Maya scans the document, her frown deepening with each line. “This sounds like it was written by robots. You can’t sign this.”

“I don’t have much choice. ”

“Then write your own,” she insists with the fierce loyalty that’s made her my best friend for years. “Something that actually sounds like you, not some corporate lawyer’s idea of damage control.”

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with a notification from my news app: Bears Forward Chase Mitchell Confronts Former Girlfriend at Local Restaurant, Sources Say.