Page 54 of Check & Chase (Breakaway #1)

Chase

Chapter Thirty-Five

“ M edia’s waiting!” Coach’s voice barely penetrates the roar in my ears—part crowd noise, part blood rushing, part pure desperation.

“I need to find someone,” I tell him, already scanning the crowd near the tunnels.

Emma. I saw her during the third period, sitting a few rows up from our bench.

Those green eyes, that blonde hair, the way she leans forward when I have the puck.

She came to see me, and that knowledge fueled my game-winning goal.

“The reporters need five minutes, then you can find whoever you want,” Coach insists, his hand on my shoulder, guiding me toward the locker room.

“Two minutes,” I bargain, pulling away from his grip. “Give me two minutes, then I’ll do all the interviews they want.”

Coach studies my face and sighs. “Two minutes. Not a second more. And Mitchell?” he calls as I turn to go. “Make it count.”

I push through the throng of teammates and staff, my body aching from the game’s intensity, knee throbbing in protest. The stands are emptying, fans filing out after the celebration, but I scan each face frantically. Near our bench, I grab a security guard I know from home games .

“Did you see a blonde woman sitting here? About this tall, green eyes, probably wearing blue?”

He frowns, thinking. “There was someone matching that description a few rows up. Left right after your goal, though. Seemed in a hurry.”

My heart sinks. “Which exit?”

“West side, I think. But that was at least ten minutes ago.”

I sprint for the west exit, ignoring the startled looks from arena staff and lingering fans. Outside, the parking lot stretches before me, hundreds of cars, people streaming toward them in celebratory groups.

“Emma!” I call, not caring who hears. “Emma!”

A few heads turn, but none belong to her. I jog further into the lot, scanning rows of vehicles, desperation building with each passing second.

Then—a flash of blonde hair under a streetlight, a familiar profile as she unlocks a car door.

“Emma!” I shout again, breaking into a run.

She turns, freezing at the sight of me barreling toward her. Her expression cycles through surprise, panic, and something soft and vulnerable that gives me hope.

“Chase?” she questions as I skid to a stop, breathing hard. “What are you doing out here? You should be inside with your team.”

“I saw you during the third period. In the stands.”

She looks away, keys clutched tightly. “I just came to watch one last game before I leave.”

“Leave. For Hartford?”

She nods, still not meeting my eyes. “I start with the Wolves on Monday.”

“Don’t go,” I blurt before I can stop myself.

Now she does look at me, green eyes wide with surprise. “What?”

“Don’t go to Hartford. Stay in Pinewood. Stay with the Bears.”

“Chase,” she murmurs, my name half sigh, half warning. “We’ve been through this. You made your decision. You decided breaking up was the best solution. ”

“I was wrong. So wrong, Emma. I thought I was protecting you, your career, but all I did was hurt us both.”

She crosses her arms, defensive posture at odds with the vulnerability in her eyes. “That doesn’t change anything. I’ve accepted the Wolves position. Signed the contract, packed my things.”

“Contracts can be broken. Nothing’s irreversible if you still feel anything for me.”

“That’s not fair,” she whispers, pain flashing across her face. “You don’t get to say that after what you did.”

She’s right. “You’re right. It’s not fair. But I need you to know the truth before you decide anything.” I take a deep breath. “I love you, Emma. I never stopped. Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

Her eyes glisten, tears threatening but held back by sheer willpower. “You hurt me. You made a decision about our relationship without even asking what I wanted.”

“I know. I was trying to fix everything myself, to protect you from the fallout. But I’ve learned my lesson the hard way.” I step closer, careful not to crowd her. “I don’t want to make decisions for you. I want to make them with you.”

“It’s not that simple. You can’t just say you’re sorry and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”

“I don’t expect that. I know we’d have to rebuild, earn back trust, figure out how to be together in a way that works for both of us. I’m just asking for a chance to try.”

She shakes her head, conflict written across her face. “You don’t understand what these past weeks have been like for me, Chase. I’ve been barely functioning. I cried myself to sleep for days. And just when I finally find a way forward, you show up and ask me to stay?”

“I understand more than you think. I’ve been a mess too. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even play hockey right. My teammates were ready to strangle me. ”

A small, reluctant smile tugs at her lips. “I noticed. I also noticed that your knee was bothering you during the game.”

“You could tell that from the stands?”

“From my couch. But only because I spent months rehabbing that knee. I know exactly how it moves when it’s hurting.”

The admission hangs between us, proof that she still cares. “Running away won’t fix what’s broken between us. And leaving won’t make you stop loving me.”

Her sharp intake of breath tells me I’ve hit a nerve. “You don’t know how I feel.”

“I saw your face during the game. When I scored. You still care, Emma. And if there’s even a chance for us, I have to take it.”

For a long moment, she stares at me, the war within her visible in every nuance of her expression. I hold my breath, knowing whatever she says next could determine everything.

“I’m still leaving for Hartford tomorrow,” she finally declares, and my heart plummets until she continues. “But I’m not taking all my things yet. Just what I need for a few weeks while I figure things out. The rest stays in storage here.”

Hope flares, fragile but persistent. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I need time, Chase. I need to think about what I want, what’s best for me professionally and personally. The Wolves job is a huge opportunity.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need. I’ll wait.”

A ghost of a smile touches her lips. “You might have to wait a while. Hartford isn’t exactly around the corner.”

“I’d drive there every day off if that’s what it takes. Distance isn’t a deal-breaker for me.”

She studies me, searching for something in my expression. Whatever she sees must satisfy her because she nods slightly. “I need to go. And you need to get back inside. The media’s probably going crazy wondering where their game-winning goal scorer disappeared to. ”

Fuck . The media. Coach. The two minutes that have stretched far longer than promised. “You’re right. But this conversation isn’t over.”

“No. I guess it isn’t.”

I take a risk then, stepping close enough to touch her face gently, giving her every opportunity to pull away. When she doesn’t, I brush my thumb across her cheek.

“Can I kiss you? Please.”

I see the conflict in her eyes, the part that’s still hurt warring with the part that still loves me. For a second, I think she’s going to pull back, turn away.

But then she rises on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.

The kiss is soft, tentative, like we’re both testing the waters. It lights something in me I didn’t know was still there. I cradle her face, scared that if I move wrong, this moment will slip away.

She pulls back first, eyes wide and vulnerable. “I have to go.”

“Can I call you?”

She nods, still looking dazed. “Yes. Just give me a few days to get settled first.”

It’s more than I dared hope for. “Drive safe. And Emma?” I wait until she meets my eyes. “Thank you. For coming to the game. For listening. For not closing the door completely.”

She bites her lip, emotion flashing across her face. “Goodbye, Chase.”

I watch her drive away, standing in the parking lot long after her taillights disappear, feeling both completely drained and surprisingly hopeful.

My phone vibrates—a barrage of texts from Coach, teammates, and management wondering where I’ve disappeared to.

I jog back into the arena, making my way to the locker room where Coach is waiting, looking pissed.

“Two minutes turned into twenty. Media’s still waiting. Please tell me whatever you were doing was worth it.”

“It was. And I’ll accept whatever punishment you think is appropriate. But I had to talk to her before she left town. ”

“Emma?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“She’s still going to Hartford, but she’s willing to talk.”

Coach studies me, then nods slowly. “Good enough for now. Get changed, face the media, take your lumps like a man.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Mitchell?” he calls after me. “Next time you need to chase a woman down, at least take off your skate guards first.”

I glance down, realizing for the first time that I’ve been running through the parking lot with plastic guards still attached to my blades. No wonder my knee is screaming.

“Noted,” I mutter, feeling heat rise in my cheeks as teammates who overheard begin to snicker.

“Lover boy put love before hockey,” Miller teases. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut up,” I grumble, but there’s no heat behind it. They can tease all they want. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

The media session is brutal. Questions about my disappearance, about my “erratic” play in recent weeks, about rumors connecting my performance to my personal life. I deflect as best I can, focusing on the team’s victory, on the upcoming games.

But one reporter won’t be deterred. “Sources say you were seen chasing a woman through the parking lot after the game. Would you care to comment on how your relationship might be affecting your play?”

I consider my options: denial, deflection, distraction. But in the end, honesty feels like the only path forward.

“My personal life is personal, but I will say this. Some things are more important than hockey. Tonight I had to make a choice between following protocol and following my heart. I chose my heart. And I’d do it again.”

The room erupts with follow-up questions, but Coach steps in, declaring the session over .

“That sound bite will be all over sports networks by morning,” he warns.

“I know. But it’s the truth.”

Later, my phone buzzes around midnight—a text from Maya that stops my heart.

Maya: She made it home safe. Still planning to leave tomorrow, but packing light. If you’re serious about waiting, prove it.

Relief washes through me. Emma’s safe, and Maya is reaching out, which means she doesn’t completely hate me.

Me: I’ve never been more serious about anything. Tell her I meant every word.

Maya: Tell her yourself when the time is right. But Chase? Don’t screw this up again. She won’t give you another chance.

The warning is clear and deserved.

Me: I won’t let her down. Not again.

Maya: Good. Because I know where you live and I’m not afraid of hockey players.

Despite everything, I find myself smiling. Maya’s the kind of friend Emma deserves.

The next afternoon brings a call I never expected—Jackson Anderson.

“Mitchell.”

I freeze, completely unprepared. “Jackson. What can I do for you?”

“You can explain why my sister arrived here upset. She nearly crashed twice on the drive because she was crying.”

Guilt slams into me. “Is she okay?”

“Physically? Yes. Emotionally? That’s complicated.” He sighs. “Look, I don’t know exactly what went down between you two. Emma won’t talk about it, which is saying something since she usually tells me everything.”

“It’s complicated.”

“So I gathered. Here’s what I do know: my sister was really happy with you. Happier than I’ve seen her since before her accident. Then suddenly she’s devastated.”

I wait, sensing there’s more coming.

“So I’m asking, what’s your endgame here, Mitchell? Because if you’re just messing with her emotions…”

“I’m not. I love your sister. Breaking up with her was the biggest mistake of my life, and I’m doing everything I can to fix it.”

Silence stretches between us. Finally, he speaks again. “She told me about the complaint. Is that why you guys broke up?”

“Yes. I thought I was protecting her.”

“By making decisions for her? Without asking what she wanted?” His tone is incredulous. “Man, you really don’t know Emma at all, do you?”

“I’m learning. The hard way.”

“She’s with the Wolves now. That makes this twice as complicated. You understand that, right?”

“I do. But I’m willing to deal with the complications if she is.”

“That’s her choice. Her choice, Mitchell. Not yours.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

“Good. Because if you hurt her again, I don’t care how many goals you score, I will end you.”

“Understood.”

There’s a pause, then a heavy sigh. “She’s staying at the Extended Stay on Riverside Drive. Room 307. Not that I’m telling you to go there. In fact, I’m explicitly telling you not to show up uninvited. But if she reaches out… well, now you know where to find her.”

The information is a peace offering of sorts. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m still not convinced you deserve another chance with her. But that’s not my decision to make. ”

After we hang up, I stand in my bedroom, processing everything. Emma’s in Hartford. Emotional, conflicted, but physically safe. Information I now have but can’t use without violating the boundaries she’s set.

Two hours away might as well be two thousand.

So I do the only thing I can. I wait. And plan. And hope that when Emma is ready to talk, I’ll have the right words ready, the right actions to prove that I’ve changed.

Because some journeys can’t be rushed, some healing can’t be forced, and some loves are worth the painful, necessary growth they demand. Even if it means driving to Hartford every day off for the rest of my career. Even if it means rebuilding trust one painfully small step at a time.

Emma Anderson is worth it all. And somehow, I’m going to prove that to her.