Page 14

Chapter

Twelve

The cab of Chase’s truck was warmer than I expected. Or maybe that was just me with sweat beading at my temples and my skin buzzing from the morning chaos and the fact that I hadn’t exactly planned on having a front-row seat to Chase WIlson before washing my face.

I adjusted my seatbelt, trying to place the smell. It was pleasant. Like peppermint gum and something that reminded me of my friend Corie’s grandpa’s garage. Old leather. Dry grass.

I’d never spent time in my own grandpa’s garage, and I doubted it would’ve smelled the same if I had. Corie lived on a farm just outside of town. I went there after school almost every day after my dad passed. I hadn’t thought about that in ages, and it made my eyes sting.

“You okay?” Chase adjusted his grip on the wheel as he pulled onto the main road.

I glanced over, realizing I’d been staring dead-eyed out the windshield. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He gave me an odd look, and I turned my head. My breathing started to settle. My heart did not.

Outside, the streets of Calgary blurred past in streaks of neutrals punctuated by bright spring green as new grass and leaves timidly peered out.

Plants were smart to be reluctant here. Every year, there was a ninety percent chance we’d get a late frost and a fifty-fifty chance whether we’d get a snowstorm in July.

I blew out a breath, trying to wrap my head around what my mom had said on the phone. And the fact that Chase just saw me in my underwear. I guess it was only fair, considering. “We’re even now.” I folded my hands in my lap.

“Even how?”

“I saw you in your underwear in high school, and now you saw me.” I thought if I acknowledged it, it wouldn’t be as awkward.

“Oh. I wasn’t—I didn’t notice.” Chase’s cheeks reddened, and he swallowed hard.

I couldn’t help it. I snorted. Thankfully, Chase laughed along with me, and the tension evaporated. Before it could get awkward again, I said, “I’m sorry I forgot about this.”

Chase shrugged. “No worries.”

My pulse quickened. “Why didn’t you just do the meeting without me?” Without adrenaline flooding my bloodstream, I was thinking more rationally now, and Chase standing on my doorstep first thing in the morning didn’t compute. Even if I had missed a meeting.

He draped his hand over the wheel as we stopped at a light. “Axel wanted you there.” He fiddled with the heating vent. “And it’s important to you, right?”

I shifted in the seat. It was important to me, but why would Chase care about that?

He thought this whole committee was stupid and pointless.

Which left only a couple of options for why he would’ve driven twenty minutes away from campus to pick me up.

One, he cared about Axel. Two, even if he thought the committee was a ploy, he cared about his reputation and wanted to look good in front of Lamont and the others.

Or three . . . he cared about me. Not me me, but my feelings about this particular situation.

Based on what I saw last night, I was going with number two.

“I’m sorry I made you drive all the way out here. I promise I’ll be more organized?—”

“Why do you keep apologizing?” He pushed down on the gas.

“Because I should be more professional?—”

“This is a volunteer assignment. You can do it however you want, and you’ve already done more than you committed to.”

That . . . was true. Last Tuesday, I was sitting in his office going over numbers.

Then the win and the image of him walking into Ranchman’s with Melody Sanchez flashed in my head.

It felt like a waste even though I knew that wasn’t true.

I wasn’t doing it for Chase. I was doing it for the team, wasn’t I?

“Thank you, by the way.” Chase turned and drove past the sign welcoming us to the Douglas University campus. “Everything you said. It all worked.”

And he took credit for it, I was sure.

He pulled into the lot behind the GRB Science Complex and swung into a faculty parking space. I pushed my door open as soon as the truck stopped moving. “Hey, you’re the one who got Blakely on board.”

His brows pinched, but he didn’t say anything as I grabbed my bag and hopped down to the pavement.

The campus was quiet. Unless there was a game that afternoon, Saturday mornings at Douglas meant empty sidewalks with only a few brave overachievers walking between the buildings.

I would know since I was often one of them.

We crossed the quad and climbed the steps to the physics wing of the Coxeter Building.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and it smelled like lemon cleaner.

I wondered if Sharla finally convinced Rob to quit his janitorial job, otherwise, it very well could’ve been him cleaning these halls last night after Ranchman’s.

Chase stopped outside Room 203. A plaque beside the door read: Professor Ivan Hennings, Department of Applied Mathematics. Voices filtered through the door—Axel’s low rumble and the professor’s clipped accent.

“Ready?”

I nodded, not quite sure what would happen next. But then again, nobody knew. This type of student athlete intervention had never occurred at Douglas. I couldn’t really do it wrong if it didn’t exist in the first place.

Chase held the door for me, and I walked in. Professor Hennings barely looked up from his desk as he quizzed Axel on formulas. I sat next to Axel, who gave me a grin and a wave, and waited.

It didn’t take long before Professor Henning took a break. “I’m impressed. You have a better understanding of the application than I expected.”

Axel gave me a wink. “It’s coming along.” He straightened and put his hands on the desk. “I hoped we could talk about extra credit for me to bring up my grade.”

Professor Hennings interlaced his fingers. “I’m sure it will increase after the next unit test.” He glanced at Chase. “But I’m guessing that if your coach is here, you’re concerned about something beyond a math grade.”

Axel ran a hand through his dark waves. “Yeah, no. Fer sure. I’m worried about ice time.” He glanced up at Chase. “I’m working hard to bring this grade up, but I’d like to play with the team in the meantime.”

Professor Hennings pushed his glasses up his nose. “Is it up to me?”

Chase nodded. “Partially. We’re piloting a new program. Our academic advisors need to see that a plan is in place and that our players are willing to put in the work.”

Hennings turned his attention back to Axel. “Is this the only class you’re behind in?”

Axel shook his head. “I have an appointment with Professor Mills Monday.”

“And your next game?”

“Exhibition Wednesday night. Then a tournament next weekend.” Axel’s knee bounced under the table.

It wasn’t only about that game, and all three of us knew it. We had barely two weeks until the Canada West playoffs.

Chase stayed quiet, arms folded across his chest, letting Axel lead. When they finally wrapped up, Hennings laid out a very clear plan: Axel needed to pass his unit final next week. No makeup tests. No extensions. He’d be cleared to play on probation until then, but if he didn’t pass? He was out.

As we left the office, Axel turned to me and, without warning, pulled me into a full-body bear hug. “Thanks, Maddie girl.” He squeezed, and I laughed, pushing against his chest.

“You haven’t passed yet.”

He let go, his eyes dancing. “But I feel like I can.” He smoothed my sweatshirt on my shoulders. “Appreciate ya.” He dropped his hands and turned to Chase, clapping him on the back and steering him a few steps down the hall. Their voices dipped low.

My interest was instantly piqued, but I didn’t want to seem like I was eavesdropping. I couldn’t exactly leave since Chase was my ride, so I studied the announcement board like I was doing exam prep and strained to hear what they were saying.

“Thanks again, bud.” Axel’s voice was barely loud enough for me to make out something intelligible. “ . . . money by next Friday.”

My head tilted. Money? Chase said something I couldn’t catch. Axel nodded and clapped him on the shoulder again. I stayed put until Axel walked down the hall in the opposite direction, and Chase turned back to me.

“Ready?”

I spun from the board, doing my best, “Who, me? I completely forgot you were there.” If Chase saw through my acting, he didn’t let on.

Back in the truck, that same warm, minty, familiar scent enveloped me.

“So.” Chase ran his hands over the wheel, and the soft, brushing sound gave me goosebumps.

It was like I had a processing disorder.

Every piece of clothing or object he touched became an extension of my own body.

“We should update Lamont about Axel,” he continued.

“Write up the plan and put it out to the committee.”

I nodded. “I’ll include Hennings's breakdown and tweak the academic support schedule for his exam prep.”

We talked through the logistics and ran over the week’s schedule with our study sessions. When there was nothing left to discuss, the cab fell into momentary silence.

Chase exhaled. “Well. Blakely’s going to be thrilled.”

Coach Blakely. Of course he’d be thrilled. He’d get all his players on the ice.

That comment dragged the last game to the forefront of my mind, and a tangle of yarn seemed to lodge behind my ribs. I pulled on the thread that said, “Chase is obviously going through something,” or “He doesn’t owe you anything, you offered to help,” but that only tightened the knots.

No, he didn’t owe me anything, and yes, he was probably emotionally stretched, but weren’t we all? That wasn’t an excuse. I was sick of giving people my answers and watching them ride off into the sunset.

“If you’re free this week, would you want to go over numbers for the next away game?” Chase asked. “Clearwater’s tough. I thought we could get ahead of their penalty kill?—”

I turned to him, my eyes flashing. “Not free this week.” I didn’t expect him to be a mind reader in this moment, but asking me to help meant he was either desperate. Or oblivious. Or both.