Faking It With The Hockey Star

Harper’s POV

"Is he okay?" The question burst out of me before I could stop myself.

The doctor looked at all of us for a long, heavy moment before a small, reassuring smile broke across his face. "There is no cause for alarm."

I almost stopped breathing entirely. "What?"

"Justin is fine."

Grandma’s shoulders sagged with overwhelming relief. Grandpa closed his eyes briefly, letting out a long breath he seemed to have been holding since the doctor first walked through the door.

I stared at the physician, my pulse still hammering in my ears. "He’s... fine?"

"He is exhausted," the doctor explained gently. "Severely exhausted."

My heart continued to race. "But he collapsed."

"I know." He motioned for us to sit. "His tests show no evidence of a stroke, brain bleed, heart attack, or any permanent neurological damage. His heart is functioning properly, and his scans are completely clear."

I pressed a trembling hand against my chest. "Then why did he pass out?"

The doctor folded his hands. "Because his body was pushed much harder than it ever should have been. Severe exhaustion, dehydration, lack of adequate sleep, extreme physical exertion, and his blood pressure was dangerously elevated."

My stomach twisted into knots. "His blood pressure?"

"Yes," he nodded. "All of those factors converged at once. His body essentially forced him to stop."

Grandma frowned, her brows knitting together. "So he isn’t sick?"

"Not in the sense you were worried about," the doctor shook his head. "He doesn’t have some sudden illness that we are discovering today. He simply pushed himself far beyond what his body could physically endure."

I swallowed hard, my mouth completely dry.

The doctor looked around the room. "How has his daily routine been lately?"

When no one answered immediately, everyone’s eyes turned toward me. I blinked, gesturing to myself. "Me?"

The doctor nodded. "You’re his girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me what his days have looked like."

I took a shaky breath, twisting my fingers together in my lap. "I mean... we’re both finishing university. He has been studying non-stop for his exams. I’ve been working on my documentary and preparing for my defense. We’ve both been extremely busy."

"How many hours does he sleep?"

I hesitated. "Normally?"

"Yes."

"Usually... enough," I offered weakly.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. I let out a heavy sigh, looking down at my hands. "At least when I’m with him. Sometimes we’d study late, especially these past few days because he had back-to-back exams. Sometimes until two or three in the morning." Seeing Grandma’s eyes widen, I rushed to add, "But we’d sleep afterward! I made sure he rested whenever I was there."

The doctor nodded slowly. "How often are you there?"

"Quite often," I shook my head, my voice dropping. "But not every single day. I leave food in his refrigerator, make sure he has water, and remind him to eat. But I can’t monitor him every second."

"That makes sense," the doctor said softly. "If you are usually the person ensuring he eats and sleeps, then when you aren’t around, he likely returns to his normal habits."

I looked away, the realization hitting me like a physical ache. That sounded painfully accurate. Justin was terrible at taking care of himself whenever he had a massive goal to accomplish.

"Has he been eating properly?" the doctor pressed.

"I think so. I know he eats, I just don’t know how regularly."

Grandpa sighed heavily beside me. "He has always been stubborn."

The doctor smiled faintly. "Most young athletes are." He turned back to me. "When was his last proper meal?"

I thought back over the chaotic day. "I left food for him before his game."

"What did he eat?"

"I don’t know," my voice grew smaller. "I just know I put food in the locker room for him before I left."

"And water?"

"Yes."

"Sleep?"

"He slept last night," I hesitated. "Maybe four hours."

The doctor exhaled slowly. "That is not enough."

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. "I thought he was okay."

"I understand," he softened his tone. "This is not your fault. Stress is very different from knowing someone’s body is reaching its absolute breaking point. Justin has been carrying an enormous amount of physical and emotional strain."

My chest tightened as a wave of guilt washed over me. The final exams, hockey, the upcoming draft, the loss of his mother, the pressure from his father, the family company. He had been carrying all of it on his shoulders, and while I had watched him do it, I had never realized how crushingly heavy it had become.

"So what happens now?" Grandma asked.

"We are keeping him here for observation," the doctor replied, checking his chart. "At least through today. We’ll continue fluids, monitor his blood pressure and heart rate, and allow his body time to recover."

"Will he wake up?" I asked.

"Yes," the answer came immediately, loosening the tight grip of terror around my heart. "He should wake once we are satisfied his vitals are completely stable. For now, we are keeping him deeply sedated so he can get uninterrupted rest while we monitor him."

Grandma nodded. "So he’s going to be okay?"

"Yes. He’s going to be okay."

I finally released the breath I had been holding all night. "Thank you."

The doctor stood. "We’ll move him into a private room once we finish monitoring him in emergency. You can see him as soon as he is settled."

After the doctor left, a heavy silence settled over the room. Grandma turned toward me, her eyes filled with concern. "Harper, why didn’t you tell us he was this stressed?"

My eyes widened. "I didn’t know it was this bad! I saw he was tired, and I knew he was stressed because of his exams. I just thought..." My voice cracked. "I thought he would rest once they were over."

Grandpa lowered himself into a chair, rubbing his forehead. "I should have been checking on him."

"No," Grandma immediately reached out and squeezed his hand. "Don’t blame yourself either. Justin has always been like this. When he’s struggling, he doesn’t tell people. He’ll smile, say he’s fine, and keep moving."

I looked toward the emergency room doors, a bittersweet ache filling my chest. That sounded exactly like him. The man who had insisted he was fine while barely sleeping, who had walked into a brutal exam after studying all night, and who had stepped onto the ice tonight even though his body was screaming at him to stop.

"I should have noticed," I whispered.

Grandma shook her head firmly. "You noticed, Harper. You were taking care of him. But you are his girlfriend, not his doctor. You cannot blame yourself for something you didn’t know, and you cannot carry everything for him just because you love him."

I nodded slowly, tears slipping down my cheeks. "I just want him to wake up."

"He will," Grandma offered a gentle smile. "That’s my grandson."

Twenty minutes later, a nurse opened the door. "You can see him now."

We stood up at once and followed her down the quiet hallway. When the door opened, I froze at the threshold.

Justin was lying in the middle of the hospital bed, his eyes closed and his face looking peaceful, almost too peaceful. Monitors beeped steadily beside him, IV fluids ran through a line in his arm, and wires were taped across his chest. But his breathing was deep and even. He was resting, truly resting for the first time in weeks.

Grandma walked to the bedside, her fingers trembling as she brushed his dark hair away from his forehead. "Oh, my baby," her voice broke softly. "My baby."

I walked closer, standing beside the bed as Grandpa took his place on the other side. Nobody said a word as we simply watched him sleep, and for the first time all night, I allowed myself to believe the doctor’s words. Justin was going to be okay.

I reached out and took his hand, his skin warm against mine. I squeezed his fingers tightly. "Rest, baby," I whispered softly. "You’ve done enough."

For once, he didn’t have to be strong. He didn’t have to study, or skate, or fight through the exhaustion. He could simply sleep.

Grandma leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "My baby."

And there we stayed in the quiet room, watching Justin sleep, content to wait until he was ready to wake up.

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