Faking It With The Hockey Star

Harper’s POV

It had been a few days, and everything was finally settling into place with exams and my upcoming defense. I had spent the better part of the afternoon pretending I wasn’t nervous, but it wasn’t working at all.

My laptop was balanced across my thighs with my presentation open on the screen while Ava and Mia sat beside me in the arena stands. The rink was louder than usual, not because this was some major game, but because it was just a friendly scrimmage between our university and another school. It was the kind of game coaches used to keep their players sharp, but for me, it was the perfect place to work. Home was too distracting, the library was far too quiet, and here, surrounded by the familiar sounds of skates cutting across ice and hockey sticks smacking against the boards, I somehow felt more focused.

Tomorrow was my documentary defense. After everything I had been through to make that documentary, the thought of standing in front of a panel to explain every decision I had made still made my stomach twist into knots.

I clicked to the next slide on my laptop. "Okay," I whispered to myself. "Introduction. Methodology. Production challenges. Ethical considerations..."

Ava leaned over my shoulder. "You’re going to be fine."

"I’m going to throw up."

"You’re not."

"I might," I insisted, staring at my slides.

Mia laughed from my other side. "Harper, you have literally had millions of people watching your life unfold online. You can survive five professors."

I glanced over at her. "That is not comforting."

"It should be," she grinned.

I smiled despite myself, but my attention was cut short by the sound of skates scraping violently against the ice. My eyes lifted automatically toward the rink. Justin had just taken the puck, moving quickly and weaving around two defenders before passing it clean to Mason.

For a moment, everything looked normal, almost peaceful. Until someone from the opposing team skated past him. I didn’t think anything of it initially, nor did I react when the player said something under his breath. Justin kept moving down the ice, ignoring it completely.

Then the player came back around, trailing him. This time, I noticed Justin’s shoulders tense up into hard lines.

I frowned, leaning forward in my seat. "What is he saying?"

Ava shrugged, squinting down at the ice. "I can’t hear from up here."

I returned my attention to my laptop, trying to focus on my notes, until the player’s loud voice carried over the sound of the game.

"What’s wrong, Callahan?" The player laughed maliciously. "You playing like a pussy today."

Justin ignored him, keeping his eyes on the play.

The player followed close behind him. "Maybe you’re distracted."

Justin’s jaw tightened visibly.

"Your rival’s dating your stepsister now, right?"

My fingers froze over my keyboard. Ava shot a quick look at me. "Oh, that’s low."

Justin still didn’t react, choosing to keep skating past him. But the player wasn’t done.

"Come on. I thought you’d have more fight than this."

Nothing from Justin.

Then the player let out a nasty laugh. "Maybe you’re just playing like someone whose mother doesn’t love him."

Justin stopped dead in his tracks. The entire world seemed to pause right along with him.

The player grinned, leaning in closer. "Oh, right. Forgot your mother is dead."

Justin snapped. His stick hit the ice with a crack, and before anyone could stop him, he was on the guy.

"What the hell?" Mia shot to her feet. "Harper!"

I barely had time to look up before Mia yelled, "Justin’s fighting!"

My laptop nearly slid off my legs as I shoved it aside and stood up. On the ice, Justin had the guy pinned by his jersey, throwing one hard punch, then another.

"Justin!" Mason yelled, grabbing him from behind. "Hey! Hey! That’s enough!"

Justin fought furiously against Mason’s grip. "Let me go!"

"Justin!"

The other player swung blindly as he was pulled back, his glove catching Justin across the face before Mason could pull him completely clear. I saw Justin’s head jerk back, his hand going immediately to his cheek. A thin red scratch appeared across his skin.

My heart dropped into my stomach. "God."

Ava grabbed my arm tightly. "He’s really pissed."

I knew. I had seen Justin angry before, I had seen him frustrated, and I had even seen him furious. But this was completely different. This wasn’t about hockey; this was grief with nowhere to go.

Mason finally dragged him toward the bench, shoving him down onto the seat. "You’re done," Mason snapped, breathing hard.

Justin was breathing rapidly, his chest heaving. "I don’t care."

"I know you don’t care! That’s the problem!" Mason grabbed the back of his jersey to keep him seated. "You’re not letting some idiot ruin everything you’ve worked for."

Justin stared up at him, his eyes dark. "He talked about my mother."

"I know."

"He talked about her!"

"I know, man," Mason’s voice softened slightly as he looked at his friend. "But you can’t punch every person who says something you hate."

Justin looked away, his chest rising and falling heavily. Mason squeezed his shoulder firmly. "Come back to yourself."

For a long moment, Justin said nothing, then he nodded once in silent agreement.

I sat back down slowly, my heart still pounding against my ribs. Ava looked over at me with concern. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

But I wasn’t, because suddenly I understood something painful. Justin hadn’t just lost his mother; he had spent years carrying unresolved questions about her death without knowing the truth. And now that he finally knew what had happened, every cruel word about her felt like someone reopening the raw wound.

The rest of practice passed without another incident, but I barely paid attention to my presentation slides. My eyes kept drifting toward Justin on the bench.

By the time practice finally ended, the sky outside the high windows had already begun darkening. I waited near the arena exit with Ava and Mia until the locker room doors finally swung open. Mason came out first, followed closely by Justin. He looked different now: not angry anymore, just lost, like someone had drained all the fight right out of him.

I walked toward him immediately. "Hey."

His eyes found mine, softening instantly. "Hey."

I reached up, carefully touching the scratch on his cheek. "What happened?"

He looked away, exhaling a quiet breath. "I lost it."

"I figured."

"He kept talking."

"About your mom?"

He nodded quietly.

I let out a gentle sigh. "Justin..."

"I know," his voice cracked slightly. "I know I shouldn’t have done it."

"He was trying to get inside your head."

"I know."

"And you let him."

He looked at me, and for a second, I thought he was going to argue. Instead, he just let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah."

I offered him a soft, warm smile. "Come on."

"Where?"

"Home."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I need both of you to sit down," I said, glancing between him and Mason.

"Both of us?" Justin asked.

I pointed directly at Mason. "You and Mason."

Mason groaned, rolling his eyes. "Why?"

"Because tomorrow is my documentary defense."

Justin stared at me for a moment before realization set in. "Oh, hell."

Ava laughed behind me. "I told you."

"I need mock judges," I explained firmly.

Mason looked at Justin, and Justin looked back at me. Then a small, genuine smile finally appeared on his face. "Fine."

I smiled back at him. "Good." I picked up my bag from the bench. "Because you’re both going to sit there and listen to me present this entire thing."

Mason shook his head dramatically. "I should have stayed in the locker room."

"You heard her," Justin said, stepping close and slipping an arm comfortably around my shoulders. "You’re trapped."

I leaned gently into his side as we walked out of the rink together.

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