Faking It With The Hockey Star

Justin’s POV

The front door swung open before I even had a chance to knock. "There you are," Grandma said, smiling so brightly it made me wonder if she’d been standing by the window waiting for me.

She wrapped me in one of her impossibly warm hugs before stepping back to look me over. "My favorite grandson," she declared.

I laughed. "I’m your only grandson."

She waved a dismissive hand. "Details. I can still have favorites."

"You literally have no one else to compare me to," I pointed out.

"And yet," she pinched my cheek, "you still win."

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. "Where’s Grandpa?"

"Golf," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "He said retirement meant relaxation. It apparently means terrorizing innocent golf courses."

I laughed. "I’ll tell him you said that."

"You absolutely will not," she replied, linking her arm through mine and leading me inside. "So," her eyes sparkled, "how’s my girl?"

I didn’t need to ask who she meant. "She’s good. Spending today with her family."

Grandma smiled knowingly. "As she should. And you?"

I shrugged. "I figured maybe you wanted to go shopping."

She raised an eyebrow. "Shopping?"

"I need your help," I said.

That got her attention. "Oh?"

"It’s for Harper."

The smile that spread across her face was almost mischievous. "Oh, I like where this is going."

..

An hour later, we were standing inside the same professional camera store Harper and I had visited the day before. Grandma looked around slowly. "This place is serious," she said.

"It is," I agreed.

She glanced sideways at me. "Tell me everything."

So I did. I told her about bringing Harper here. About pretending I needed help choosing a travel camera. About how Harper had tried to avoid pointing at anything expensive. About how she’d finally forgotten herself and started talking. Really talking. I could still picture it. The way she’d moved from display to display, the excitement in her voice, the way her hands flew through the air every time she explained another lens.

Grandma smiled quietly. "You memorized all of it." It wasn’t a question.

"I tried," I said.

She squeezed my arm. "No. You did."

A salesman approached us with a friendly smile. "Can I help you with anything today?"

I nodded. "My girlfriend is studying filmmaking."

His smile grew. "That’s exciting."

"I want to surprise her," I said. "I remember some of what she showed me, but honestly, I don’t know what half of it does."

He chuckled. "That’s okay. What kind of filmmaking?"

"Documentaries. But she wants to make short films after graduation. She’s also into photography."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. Let’s build her a setup she’ll actually grow into."

For the next forty minutes, I listened more carefully than I had in any lecture. Lenses. Sensor sizes. Image stabilization. Memory cards. Tripods. Microphones. Camera bags. Editing monitors. Half the terminology still sounded like another language, but every time the salesman suggested something, I asked myself one question. Would Harper smile if she saw this? If the answer wasn’t yes, we moved on.

Grandma quietly watched the entire process. Every now and then she’d ask questions I hadn’t even thought of. "Is this bag waterproof?" "How heavy is this lens?" "If she’s carrying it all day, will her shoulders hurt?"

The salesman smiled. "You’ve done this before."

"I raised three children," she said, smiling back. "I’ve carried enough bags to know what becomes uncomfortable after an hour."

Eventually, everything sat neatly on the counter. The camera body. Two lenses. A sturdy tripod. Extra batteries. Memory cards. A microphone. A cleaning kit. A padded camera backpack. I stared at the pile. Yesterday these had just been things Harper dreamed about. Today they were real.

Grandma reached for the most expensive camera on display. "What about this one?"

The salesman grinned. "That’s our premium model."

I looked at the price. Then slowly shook my head. "No."

Grandma looked surprised. "You can afford it."

"I know," I said.

"So why not?"

I smiled softly. "Because Harper won’t accept it. She’d think it was too much. The more expensive something is, the more anxious she gets. She hates feeling like she owes people."

Grandma’s expression softened. "That poor girl. She’s spent so long surviving, she doesn’t know how to receive."

"I don’t want her first thought to be how do I pay him back," I said. "I want it to be he listened."

For a long moment, Grandma didn’t say anything. Then she smiled. "You’ve been paying attention."

"I have," I said.

She patted my cheek. "Good. We’ll get her something beautiful. Not overwhelming. Something she’ll actually use every day."

We settled on a high-quality setup. Professional enough to grow with her. Simple enough that Harper wouldn’t feel crushed by the price.

As the salesman packed everything away, Grandma suddenly stopped outside another store. "Athletic shoes?" she said.

I looked at her. "What?"

She pointed through the window. "She’s always walking. Always filming. Always carrying equipment."

I blinked. I hadn’t even thought about that.

Grandma smiled. "A camera is for her dreams. But comfortable shoes? That’s for her. So she can chase those dreams without hurting herself."

My chest tightened. "I love you," I said.

She laughed. "I know. Come on. We’re buying shoes."

Thirty minutes later, Harper somehow had three pairs. White, black, and light beige. The sales associate assured us they were designed for people who spent long hours on their feet. Good arch support. Lightweight. Comfortable. Perfect.

Grandma nodded approvingly. "There. Now she has choices."

I shook my head. "She’s going to argue with me."

"Of course she is," Grandma said simply. "Then let her."

We both laughed.

After everything had been wrapped, we stopped for coffee before heading home. Grandma stirred her tea slowly. Then, almost casually, she said, "Your father called me."

The warmth of the afternoon shifted. I looked down at my cup. "What did he want?"

"You," she said.

I laughed once. A humorless sound. "He always does."

She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. "Justin." I met her eyes. "Most days," she hesitated, "do you still think about what happened?"

I was quiet for a while. Finally, I answered honestly. "Most days I forget I even have a father."

The words surprised even me. Because they were true. He wasn’t someone I missed anymore. He was just someone who existed.

Grandma’s eyes filled with tears. "Oh, sweetheart. You’ve carried so much for someone your age. You shouldn’t have had to."

I squeezed her hand gently. "But I did. And you know what?" I smiled. "You and Grandpa made sure I never carried it alone. You’ve been my rock. You’ve shown me what love is supposed to look like."

Her lips trembled. "I’m proud of you. So proud."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"One day," she said quietly, "your father is going to realize everything he threw away." I looked out the café window. Maybe. Maybe not. "I just hope that by then," she continued, "you’ve forgiven yourself enough."

I frowned. "Myself?"

She nodded. "You’ve spent years blaming yourself for things that were never yours to carry."

Silence settled between us. Finally, I smiled. "When that day comes, I’ll cross that bridge. But today," I looked toward the shopping bags beside us, "I’d rather think about Harper."

Grandma laughed through her tears. "That’s my grandson."

Back at her house, we spread everything across the dining table. The shoes. The camera. The lenses. The accessories. The backpack. Grandma insisted on wrapping every single item herself. When I reached for the tape, she slapped my hand away. "No. I have standards."

"You have control issues," I said.

"I have experience," she replied firmly.

Twenty minutes later, everything disappeared into one enormous gift box. The shoes rested neatly on top. The camera bag underneath. The smaller accessories tucked carefully around the sides. It looked perfect.

Grandma stepped back proudly. "There." She folded her arms. "So. When are you giving it to her?"

I pulled out my phone immediately.

Justin: Are you busy?

Three little dots appeared almost instantly.

Harper: Not really.

A smile spread across my face.

Justin: Come over. I miss you.

The typing bubble appeared again. This time it stayed longer. Then finally her reply came through.

Harper: On my way ❤️

I stared at the little heart for several seconds. Without realizing it, I smiled so widely my cheeks hurt.

Grandma noticed. "Oh," she laughed softly. "You’re gone."

I looked up. "What?"

She smiled knowingly. "My dear," she nodded toward my phone, "you’re completely in love."

I looked back at Harper’s message. For once, I didn’t even try to deny it.

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