Faking It With The Hockey Star

Harper’s POV

When I arrived at Justin’s house, I found him exactly where I expected him to be: sprawled on the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him, staring intently at his phone.

I set the shopping bag down on the floor with a quiet thud. "Why did you not remind me that the draft is tomorrow?"

Justin looked up, his expression instantly shifting into a mix of guilt and hesitation. "I knew you would be mad."

I stared at him, crossing my arms over my chest. "Mad?"

He let out a heavy sigh, setting his phone screen down on the cushion. "I was scared."

My defensive posture melted away, my tone softening immediately. "Scared of what?"

"Everything," he muttered, running a tired hand over his face. "I did not want you worrying about me. You have had so much on your plate already with your own decisions."

"That does not mean you keep things from me," I said gently, walking over to sit beside him on the edge of the sofa. "We promised each other we would not hide things, Justin. You do not get to decide what I am allowed to worry about."

"I know."

"You almost forgot to mention the single biggest day of your hockey career."

"I did not forget," he looked down at his lap, his knuckles pale. "I just... I did not know how to bring it up."

I studied his profile. The quiet anxiety in his eyes stripped away the confident, invincible athlete everyone saw on the ice. He was just Justin. My Justin.

I reached out, sliding my hand into his. "You are allowed to be scared."

He squeezed my fingers tightly, letting out a breath he seemed to have been holding all morning. "I am sorry."

"Apology accepted," I smiled faintly.

His lips curved upward. "Thank you."

"Now," I nudged his shoulder with mine. "What are you wearing tomorrow?"

He blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"For the draft."

"Oh," he shrugged modestly. "I will just wear one of the suits I already have in the closet."

I stared at him in quiet disbelief. "That is it?"

"It is a suit, Harper. I am not walking onto the stage naked."

I burst out laughing, shaking my head. "You are impossible."

"I will look fine."

"You better," I glanced over at the tote bag by the door. "Luckily for you, I picked up an extra dress during our shopping spree yesterday. So at least I will not be stressing about what I am wearing."

His eyes lightened. "See? Problem solved."

"And your grandparents?"

"They are coming into town," he confirmed. "They would not miss it."

I leaned back against the cushions, letting the quiet settle between us. "Okay. Walk me through it."

He chuckled softly. "The draft process?"

"Yes. Explain it so I know what I am walking into tomorrow."

Justin shifted closer, his posture relaxing as he began to explain how the selection worked, how teams picked through the rounds, and what would happen if his name was called from the podium. I listened carefully, interrupting whenever the sports terminology got too complex.

"So you really have no idea which team you are going to?"

"None."

"Not even a team you are secretly hoping for?"

He shook his head cleanly. "I just want a chance to play. I do not have a specific city in mind."

I nodded slowly, taking it all in.

Right then, a loud growl echoed from my stomach. Justin turned his head slowly to look at me, and I narrowed my eyes. "Do not say a word."

A genuine smile broke across his face. "I was not going to say anything."

"Good," I stood up. "Let us eat."

He did not move. I turned around, noticing the quiet still settled over him. "Have you eaten today?"

His silence answered for him.

My eyes widened in disbelief. "You have not eaten?"

"Not yet."

"What do you mean, not yet?" My voice rose slightly with concern. "Justin!"

He sighed, leaning his head back against the sofa. "Harper—"

"No," I pointed a finger at him firmly. "This is exactly what you were doing before you collapsed on the ice."

"I know."

"You cannot keep neglecting yourself when you get stressed."

"I know."

"You need food."

"I know."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You are saying ’I know’ way too much."

A small, weary smile touched his lips. "Because you are right."

I let out a long breath, softening my tone. "Get dressed."

He blinked. "What?"

"We are going out to get a proper meal."

"Yes, boss," he murmured, pushing himself up.

"And you are driving."

"Of course."

"And you are going to eat everything I order for you."

He let out a low laugh, the dark mood finally lifting. "Yes, boss."

We spent the next couple of hours out together, and by the time he drove me back to my place, the dark clouds hovering over him seemed to have cleared. He looked healthier, the color restored to his face.

He pulled the car to a smooth stop outside my house and put it in park. "Get some real sleep tonight, okay?"

I nodded warmly. "You too."

"I will try."

"Not try. Actually rest."

He smiled gently. "Yes, ma’am."

I opened the passenger door, but paused before stepping out into the afternoon air. "Justin?"

"Yeah?"

"I am going to be right there tomorrow."

His eyes softened, filled with a deep, quiet gratitude. "I know."

"I do not care where you end up on that board."

He reached across the center console and took my hand. "I know."

"We will figure it out," I whispered.

He squeezed my fingers gently. "Together."

"Together."

I stepped out of the car and watched until his taillights disappeared down the street. Turning back toward my front door, a flutter of nervous anticipation bloomed in my chest.

Tomorrow was the draft.

I had no idea what team would call his name or where his career would take him next. But for the first time, I was not afraid of the unknown. Tomorrow, Justin’s entire life was going to change, and I was going to be standing right beside him when it did.

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