Faking It With The Hockey Star

Harper’s POV

The ambulance disappeared through the hospital entrance, and I felt as if my heart had vanished right along with it.

I barely had time to step out of the car before Justin’s grandmother was already moving, her voice sharp with rising panic. "Why are they taking him here?" She stared toward the emergency bay, then back at the bay doors. "This isn’t his hospital."

Grandpa came around the other side of the car, his posture rigid. "Mom."

"I know this is the closest facility," she said quickly, her breath hitching. "But his medical records clearly state that his primary treatment is supposed to be handled through our hospital."

My hands trembled violently at my sides. "Can they treat him here?"

"They can stabilize him," she answered firmly, before turning to Grandpa. "We’re moving him."

Grandpa didn’t hesitate for a single second, pulling out his phone. "I’m calling the helicopter."

I stared at him in sheer disbelief. A helicopter. Of course. I knew Justin’s family had immense wealth, but watching Grandpa calmly arrange an emergency air transport while my world was falling apart made the reality of their power feel entirely real and terrifying.

"My grandson is not staying here a second longer than necessary," Grandpa commanded into the receiver. "Send the helicopter to Grace Memorial. Immediately."

He hung up and marched toward the emergency room doors. "Where is he?"

A nurse hurried out to intercept us. "Sir, they’re taking him into the emergency suite now."

"Good."

Grandma grabbed the nurse’s arm, her composure shattering. "Please. I need someone to attend to him right away."

"Ma’am, the doctors are—"

"That’s my only grandchild," her voice cracked, raw with agonizing pain. "You don’t understand."

The nurse glanced nervously toward the swinging doors. "We’re doing everything we can."

"Then do it faster."

"Mom," Grandpa said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We’ll get him where he needs to be."

The doors burst open, and an ER physician rushed toward us. "Mr. and Mrs. Callahan?"

Grandpa stepped forward. "Yes."

"I’m Dr. Patel. We’re going to stabilize Justin before transporting him."

"How is he?"

"He hasn’t regained consciousness yet."

My stomach dropped into a cold, bottomless void. Grandma’s fingers tightened around mine so hard it almost hurt.

"But he’s stable?" she pressed.

The doctor paused, his hesitation making my blood run cold. "His vital signs are being monitored closely. We’re administering fluids and oxygen while we determine what caused him to collapse."

"What caused it?"

"We don’t know yet."

That answer terrified me more than anything else. Not knowing was complete torture. The doctor gave us a solemn nod and disappeared back behind the doors.

I pulled out my phone, desperate for something to hold onto. I called Emma first.

"Harper?"

"How are you guys?"

"We’re leaving now," Emma reported softly. "The game is almost over."

"Okay. Please get Mom home safely. Don’t let her worry."

Emma went quiet for a long beat. "Harper..."

"I know," my voice broke completely. "I know."

She sighed gently. "We’ll be okay."

"Thank you."

I ended the call and immediately opened my chat with Mason.

Me: I didn’t get any of Justin’s things. Please go to the locker room and get his bag, phone charger, clothes, everything. We’re taking him to his grandparents’ hospital.

Mason: Already on it.

Me: Thank you.

Mason: Don’t worry about anything here. Focus on him.

My eyes burned as my phone rang again. Ava.

"Harper, we’re still here," Ava said, her tone filled with worry. "Do you need us?"

"No," I swallowed past the thick lump in my throat. "Stay with Coach. Please. I need someone to make sure everything is organized there."

"We’ve got you. Mia is with me."

"Okay. Thank you."

I ended the call and stood frozen in the hallway. Events were still unfolding at the arena, my mother was on her way home, and Justin’s belongings were being packed away. But none of it mattered. My entire world had narrowed down to one person behind a pair of heavy swinging doors.

Justin.

The medical helicopter arrived within minutes, the roaring thrum of its blades shaking the pavement outside and tightening the knot of dread in my chest. When the trauma team wheeled Justin out on a gurney, my breath caught in my throat.

He looked so frighteningly still. Tubes were attached to his arms, an oxygen mask covered half his face, and monitors beeped steadily beside him. That wasn’t the boy who had been laughing with me earlier that morning, or the athlete who had been gliding across the ice less than an hour ago. He looked terrifyingly small on that gurney.

I took a step forward. "Can I—"

A flight nurse shook her head gently. "Stay with his grandparents. We’re moving him now."

I nodded numbly, my eyes locked on his pale face until they loaded him into the craft.

"We’re driving," Grandpa said, opening the car door.

We sped toward Grace Memorial, following the helicopter across the dark sky. Grandma squeezed my hand in the back seat, neither of us daring to break the silence. I stared out the windshield, praying, begging, and trying to fight off every terrifying outcome flashing through my mind.

By the time we pulled up to Grace Memorial, Justin had already been rushed into the private emergency unit. A hospital administrator met us at the doors.

"Mr. and Mrs. Callahan."

Grandpa brushed past the formal greeting. "My grandson."

"He’s being attended to right now. Dr. Patel’s team has taken over, and we’ve brought in neurology and cardiology to evaluate him."

They led us into a private family waiting room. I couldn’t sit still, pacing back and forth as Grandpa made frantic, hushed phone calls across the room.

"Yes, cancel everything," Grandpa snapped into his phone, his hand trembling as he rubbed his forehead. "I don’t care about the meeting. My grandson is in—" He stopped himself, catching his breath. "They’re still assessing him."

I had never seen him look so shaken.

The doors swung open again, and my heart jumped. Richard walked in—Justin’s father. He looked utterly terrified, his hair disheveled and his shirt wrinkled as if he had thrown it on in a panic.

"What happened?" Richard asked, his voice raw.

Grandpa’s expression hardened instantly. "He’s receiving treatment."

Richard looked between us, his eyes wide. "Is he okay?"

"We don’t know yet."

Richard nodded slowly, then turned to me. "Harper."

"Hi," was all I could manage.

He sat across from me, and an unbearable silence filled the room. Finally, he looked up. "Did he say anything before he collapsed?"

I shook my head. "He was playing."

"He looked fine," Richard whispered, staring blankly at the floor.

"He wasn’t," my voice trembled, hot tears finally spilling over my cheeks. "He’d been exhausted. He’d been studying. He hadn’t been sleeping or eating properly."

Richard stared at me. "And nobody noticed?"

I couldn’t answer. I had seen it, but I hadn’t realized how dangerously close to the edge he was.

Grandma reached over and squeezed my hand again. "He’s in the best hands now."

Richard nodded weakly, his throat working as his voice cracked. "I just... I can’t lose him."

The heavy words hung in the air, wrapping the room in a suffocating dread.

Then, the emergency doors clicked open. A senior doctor stepped through, and every single one of us stood up at once.

"Mr. and Mrs. Callahan?" the doctor asked, looking directly at us.

Grandpa stepped forward, his posture rigid. "Yes."

"I’m Dr. Patel."

My mouth went completely dry. Grandma gripped my hand with a bruised tightness as Richard stepped up beside us.

"How is he?"

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!