Faking It With The Hockey Star

Justin’s POV

The guys were already suited up, blaring music and pounding on stalls. Coach walked in a few minutes later, holding up his hands for quiet.

"Listen up!" he barked, though a rare, genuine smile tugged at his mouth. "This isn’t a championship game." A few guys chuckled nervously. "But that doesn’t mean I want to see anyone skating like it’s a lazy Sunday public session."

More laughter echoed around the room.

"We’ve already shattered our fundraising target before the first puck has even dropped," Coach continued, his voice heavy with pride. "That happened because of every single guy in this locker room. Go out there, have fun, play hard, and remember exactly why we’re doing this tonight."

The team erupted into cheers, pounding their sticks against the rubber floor.

I stood up to pull my jersey over my shoulder pads. As I did, a sharp, violent throb slammed against the inside of my skull, making my knees wobble for a fraction of a second. I gripped the wooden stall, squeezing my eyes shut until the nausea passed.

I ignored it. Tonight was far too important. Harper had poured her heart into making this happen. Her mother was watching from the glass, my grandparents were in the crowd, and strangers had donated half a million dollars because of a cause we started. I wasn’t going to let a stupid headache stop me from playing.

I walked out of the locker room, adjusting my gloves as a heavy, cold sweat began to stick to my collarbone. Before I could reach the tunnel leading to the ice, a heavy hand clapped down on my shoulder from behind. I turned to find Mason studying me, his brow furrowed with genuine concern. "Man, you don’t seem so hyped. You good?"

I swallowed past the sudden dryness in my throat, rubbing the back of my neck. "Honestly, bro? I don’t feel too good." Mason’s expression tightened instantly, his eyes scanning my pale face. "Then don’t skate yet. Go see the team doctor first, just to be safe. We can hold down the ice for a few shifts."

I shook my head, waving off his concern as I gripped my stick tighter. "No way. I’m fine, just exhausted. I’m pushing through."

Before he could argue, I stepped past him and emerged into the arena. The instant I hit the bright lights, the sheer size of the crowd slammed into me, a wall of thousands of roaring fans filling every single seat. Looking around at the sea of cheering faces, my chest tightened with determination. Harper had put everything into this night, her family was watching, and people had raised half a million dollars. I couldn’t back out now. I just had to push through this game once it was over, I could finally rest.

The whistle blew, and the first period started at a punishing pace.

Too fast.

The opposing team wasn’t holding back for a charity exhibition. They were playing fast, physical, and aggressive hockey, crowding the lanes and throwing heavy body checks against the boards.

I pushed myself into the play, receiving a quick pass from Mason. I took a shot, missed the top corner, recovered, and tried again.

But something was deeply wrong.

My body wasn’t responding to my brain’s commands. My legs felt like lead weights, dragging heavily through the ice. My breath came in short, ragged gasps that didn’t seem to fill my lungs at all, and for a terrifying half-second, my vision blurred into a smear of white and red.

I blinked rapidly, shaking my head violently. I’m fine. Just keep moving.

Another rush down the ice. Another physical battle along the boards. Another hard hit.

The world tilted again, worse this time. My stomach lurched violently. I shook my head, trying to clear the static filling my ears, but the roar of the crowd sounded strange and distant, as if I were listening to it from underwater.

Thousands of screaming voices blurred together, but somehow, above the muffled chaos, I caught one specific sound coming from the lower bowl.

"Come on, Justin!"

It was Harper.

A weak smile touched my lips. Hearing her was enough. I dug the edges of my skates into the ice, forcing myself to push forward into the play.

Then the dizziness hit me like a physical blow.

It came hard and fast. The entire arena spun on its axis. The white ice below me blurred into a blinding, featureless sheet. I fumbled a clean pass, watching uselessly as the puck slid away from my stick.

I stopped dead in the middle of the neutral zone, swaying on my skates.

Over on the bench, Coach was staring at me with a sharp, alarmed look. He raised a hand, mouthing across the ice, You okay?

I gave him a quick, forced nod. I’m fine.

He didn’t look convinced, and deep down, I knew I was lying to myself. But stopping wasn’t an option. Not tonight. Not in front of everyone.

I forced my heavy legs to skate back toward our defensive zone, but the noise of the arena began to fade out completely, replaced by the loud, terrifying thudding of my own racing heart echoing inside my head. My peripheral vision narrowed into a dark, suffocating tunnel.

I tried to draw a breath. Once. Twice. Air refused to reach my lungs. Darkness flickered violently around the edges of my sight.

Not now. Please, God, not now.

Through the deafening ringing in my ears, I heard Mason’s panicked voice call out from behind me. "Justin!"

I tried to turn my head. I tried to answer him, to tell him I was fine, but my mouth refused to form words.

Then, from high up in the stands, a sound broke through the static. It was Harper’s voice, stripped of all its usual warmth, sharp and laced with pure, unadulterated terror.

"JUSTIN!"

I turned blindly toward the sound of her voice, but my legs suddenly turned to lead. The ice disappeared from beneath my feet. My knees buckled completely, snapping inward as my body gave out.

Someone reached out frantically to catch me, and I faintly heard Mason screaming my name over the sudden, collective gasp of thousands of people in the crowd.

The heavy darkness rushed in to swallow me whole, and the very last thing I heard before the world went completely black was Harper’s terrified scream echoing through the silent arena.

"JUSTIN!"

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