Page 51 of Check & Chase (Breakaway #1)

Emma

Chapter Thirty-Two

I ’ve gotten really good at pretending to be asleep.

It’s been eight days since I walked out of Chase’s house with my heart in pieces, eight days of functioning on autopilot. Eight days of Maya tiptoeing around me like I’m made of glass, of alternating between rage and numbness, of staring at my phone waiting for a call that doesn’t come.

“Emma.” Maya’s voice drifts through my bedroom door, followed by a soft knock. “You awake?”

I consider not answering, but that would only delay the inevitable check-in, the worried looks, the gentle suggestion that maybe I should eat something or take a shower.

“Yeah,” I call back, my voice rough from disuse.

“I made coffee. And Aunt Judith called. She wants to go over your official statement for the ethics commission before tomorrow’s hearing.”

Right, the hearing. The reason for this whole mess. I’ve been so consumed by the breakup that I’ve almost forgotten the actual threat to my career.

Maya lingers in the doorway after I emerge. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks. ”

“I mean it in the most loving way possible. But seriously, Em, it’s been over a week. You need to shower, eat real food, and remember you have a life beyond Chase Mitchell.”

The words sting because they’re true. “I know.”

“Look, I know this isn’t just a regular breakup. But you’re letting him win.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Maya counters. “He decided what was best for you without consulting you. He broke things off ‘for your own good.’ If that’s not some patriarchal bullshit worth fighting against, I don’t know what is.”

She has a point, one that stirs the embers of anger that have been smoldering beneath my grief. Chase did decide for both of us. And I let him, walking away instead of standing my ground.

Maybe it was the stress. Maybe that’s why I was so cruel, so final with him. My whole world felt like it was crumbling—my job, my reputation, everything I’d worked for since my accident. When he suggested we break up, it felt like the last straw.

“You’re right,” I admit, the words like acid in my mouth. “I hate that you’re right, but you are.”

“Of course I am. Now, get your ass in the shower. We have work to do if we’re going to clear your name.”

An hour later, showered and dressed in real clothes for the first time in days, I’m sitting at our kitchen table with a pile of documents. Aunt Judith, Maya’s honorary aunt and my newly acquired legal counsel, peers at me over reading glasses.

“The good news,” she begins, tapping a stack of papers, “is that the access logs clearly show Andrea Flores accessing your treatment notes outside of her normal duties. The timestamps are damning—late at night, weekends.”

“And the bad news? ”

“The bad news is that perception matters as much as facts in these situations. You were involved with a patient, even if you recused yourself properly. That’s enough to create doubt in some minds.”

“So what’s our strategy?”

“Transparency. Complete and total transparency. We provide every record, every email, every piece of documentation showing that you followed protocol.”

My phone rings, interrupting us. Unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Emma? It’s Tyler.”

I nearly drop the phone in surprise. “Tyler?”

“Listen, I’ve been trying to reach you. Can we meet? There’s something I need to talk to you about. It’s important.”

I hesitate, glancing at Maya and Judith who are watching curiously. “I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.”

“It’s about the ethics complaint. I have information that could help your case.”

Against my better judgment, curiosity wins out. “Fine. The coffee shop on Elm Street in an hour?”

An hour later, I’m seated at a corner table, while Maya sits nearby shooting daggers at Tyler when he walks in. He looks different somehow—less cocky, more subdued.

“Thanks for meeting me. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“What’s this about, Tyler?”

He glances around, lowering his voice. “I know who helped Carina file the complaint. It was Andrea Flores, from the medical admin department. But what you might not know is that I’m willing to testify on your behalf.

I was there when she planned this whole thing.

I heard her admit that she was making it up, that she just wanted to hurt you and Chase. ”

I lean back, studying him skeptically. “Why would you help me? After everything? ”

A flash of guilt crosses his face. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Because I’ve been a complete asshole to you, to Chase, to pretty much everyone. And because what Carina’s doing is wrong.”

“That’s unexpectedly decent of you.”

He looks down at his hands. “I’m sorry, Emma. For everything. For how I treated you, for cheating, for all of it. I was a terrible boyfriend and an even worse human being.”

The apology catches me off guard. In all our interactions since the breakup, Tyler has never once apologized directly and meant it.

“Why now?”

“Because I’m trying to be better. And because I can see how happy Chase makes you—made you, I guess. Sorry, I heard about the breakup.”

“News travels fast.”

“For what it’s worth, I think he’s being an idiot. Breaking up with you to protect your career? That’s the kind of noble bullshit I’d expect from a Hallmark movie.”

Despite everything, I laugh. “That’s almost exactly what Maya said.”

We finalize the details of his testimony, and I have to admit, Tyler seems genuine. Maybe people really can change.

The hearing the next day goes better than expected.

I answer their questions calmly, presenting evidence of my recusal.

Mr. Peterson testifies to my professionalism, Andrea tearfully admits to helping Carina access confidential records, and Tyler appears, surprising the panel with his forthright testimony about Carina’s vendetta.

When it concludes, Judith seems confident. “They were receptive. The evidence is overwhelmingly in your favor. I expect a formal exoneration within days. ”

“And then what?” I ask, the victory feeling hollow. “I go back to a job where everyone’s been gossiping about me for weeks?”

“That’s up to you, Emma. You could return to the Bears with your head held high. Or you could see this as an opportunity for a fresh start.”

Later that afternoon, I find myself in the Bears’ facility for the first time since being placed on leave. I’m there to collect some personal items, but truthfully, I need to see the place again.

It doesn’t feel like home anymore.

The hallways that once felt welcoming now seem charged with whispers and stares. Colleagues who were once friendly now offer awkward smiles or avoid eye contact entirely.

I’m packing photos from my desk when a familiar voice speaks from the doorway.

“So, the rumors are true. You’re back.”

I turn to find Chase standing there, looking haggard in a way I’ve never seen him. Dark circles under his eyes, hair unkempt, a tightness around his mouth that speaks to sleepless nights and barely contained anguish.

“Just collecting some things. The hearing was this morning.”

He steps into the office, keeping his distance like I’m a wild animal that might bolt. “How did it go?”

“Well, I think. Judith—my lawyer—expects a full exoneration.”

Relief flashes across his face. “That’s great, Emma. I’m happy for you.”

“Are you? Because it seems like you gave up on me, hell, on us, pretty easily.”

He flinches as if I’ve struck him. “That’s not fair. I was trying to protect your career.”

“By making decisions for me,” I state coldly, the words coming easier than expected. “By deciding that my job was more important than our relationship. Without even asking what I wanted.”

“I made a mistake,” he admits, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “A massive, stupid mistake. I see that now. ”

“Too late,” I reply, the words like knives in my own heart. I want to forgive him, want to run into his arms and forget these miserable days apart. But I can’t. The hurt is too fresh, the betrayal too deep.

“Emma, please, can we talk about this? Really talk?”

“I think we said everything that needed saying when you decided breaking up was the solution to our problems.”

He’s silent for a long moment. “I miss you. Every minute of every day. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t even play hockey right anymore.”

My hands falter on the photo I’m wrapping—a shot of Maya and me at graduation, smiling and innocent of the heartbreak to come.

“I miss you too,” I admit quietly. “But that doesn’t change anything. You didn’t trust me enough to fight this together, Chase. You made a unilateral decision about our relationship. How am I supposed to come back from that?”

“I don’t know. But I want to try. Please, just give me a chance to make this right.”

I turn to face him, steeling myself against the raw need in his eyes. “I can’t do this right now. I need time. Time to figure out what I want, what’s best for me.”

He nods, accepting my boundary even as disappointment clouds his features. “I understand. Just don’t shut the door completely, okay? I’m not giving up on us.”

“I’m not making any promises.”

“For what it’s worth,” he adds, backing toward the door, “the team isn’t the same without you. I’m not the same without you.”

After he leaves, I sit in my desk chair, emotions washing over me in dizzying waves. Seeing him has unsettled all my careful plans, all my righteous anger.

Because despite everything, despite the hurt and betrayal, I still love him. And that terrifies me.

My phone buzzes with an incoming call.

Jackson .

“Hey, Jack.”

“Emma. I just talked to Coach Willis. He’s offering you a position with the Wolves. Head physical therapist for the team.”

I sit up straight, shocked. “What? How did that happen?”

“I might have mentioned that you were considering other options after the Bears debacle. Willis has always admired your work. And it gets you away from that cesspool of drama with the Bears. Away from Mitchell.”

Away from Chase. The prospect is both liberating and devastating. “I need to think about it.”

“Don’t think too long. Willis needs an answer by Friday.”

Three days to decide the course of my future. No pressure.

After hanging up, I sit in my empty office, the weight of everything crashing over me. I need my mom.

I dial her number, and she answers on the second ring.

“Emma, sweetheart. How did the hearing go?”

At the sound of her voice, everything breaks. The tears I’ve been holding back for days come pouring out.

“Mom,” I sob into the phone. “I don’t know what to do.”

Through hiccupping sobs, I tell her everything. The hearing, Tyler’s testimony, the job offer from Jackson, seeing Chase and how broken he looked. How I still love him despite everything.

“And I was so mean to him, Mom. When he suggested the break, I just… I couldn’t handle it. My whole world was falling apart, and it felt like even he was giving up on us. So I said horrible things and walked away.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom soothes gently. “You were under an incredible amount of stress. People don’t always make the best decisions when they’re hurting and scared.”

“But what if I was wrong? What if he really was just trying to protect me, and I was too angry to see it?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Can I tell you something about your father and me?”

I sniffle. “Yeah. ”

“When we first got engaged, his parents hated me. Thought I wasn’t good enough for their precious son. They made our lives miserable for months—nasty comments, excluding me from family events, the works.”

I’ve never heard this story before. “What did you do?”

“Your father wanted to elope. Said we should just run away and get married in Vegas, away from all the drama. And I was furious with him for suggesting it. I thought he was choosing the easy way out instead of standing up to his family.”

“But you married him anyway.”

“Eventually,” she says with a small laugh. “But not before we had a huge fight and didn’t speak for two weeks. I was convinced he didn’t love me enough to fight for us. He was convinced he was protecting me from his family’s cruelty.”

“What changed?”

“We both realized we were making decisions based on fear instead of love. Fear of what other people thought, fear of getting hurt, fear of not being enough. Once we started talking honestly about our fears instead of just reacting to them, we found our way back to each other.”

I absorb this, wiping my nose with a tissue. “So what are you saying? That I should forgive Chase?”

“I’m saying that love isn’t about never making mistakes, honey. It’s about being willing to work through them together. The question isn’t whether Chase made the right choice—he clearly didn’t. The question is whether you think he made it from a place of love or a place of selfishness.”

I think about Chase’s face when he suggested the break, the pain in his eyes, the way his voice broke when he said he loved me more than anything.

“Love,” I whisper. “Misguided, stupid love, but love.”

“And what does your heart tell you to do with that information?”

“I don’t know. I’m scared, Mom. What if I forgive him and he hurts me again? What if we can’t get past this? ”

“Those are fair concerns. But what if you don’t try, and you spend the rest of your life wondering ‘what if’? What if the love you two have is worth fighting for, even if it’s messy and imperfect?”

After we hang up, I finish packing my belongings, Mom’s words echoing in my head. Love isn’t about never making mistakes. It’s about being willing to work through them together.

I’m still turning these questions over in my mind when I reach the main exit of the facility. Through the glass doors, I can see the practice rink where the Bears are running drills. Without thinking, I pause to watch, my gaze automatically seeking out Chase among the players.

He’s easy to spot, his number nine jersey distinctive even from a distance. But something’s off in his skating, in the way he holds himself. There’s none of the fluid grace that usually defines his movement, none of the cocky confidence. He looks diminished somehow.

I watch him miss a pass, cursing audibly even from where I stand. His teammates exchange glances, clearly not used to Chase Mitchell making such basic errors.

The part of me that fell for his fire and drive just feels… sad. For him, for me, for everything we let slip away.

As I drive home, his haunted eyes follow me, along with his words.

“I miss you. Every minute of every day.”

The truth is, I miss him too. With an ache that hasn’t dulled with time or distance. With a longing that makes me question whether pride is worth this pain.

Three days to decide whether to take the job with the Wolves. Three days to figure out if I’m running toward something better, or just running away.