Page 32 of The Save

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 thecommittee 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. Notmeme, 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 Sharlafinally 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.

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