Faking It With The Hockey Star

I led him up the stairs and into my bedroom, closing the door behind us. "Lie down."

He obeyed without a word, kicking off his shoes and sinking into the mattress. The moment his head hit my pillow, his eyes drifted shut. Within minutes, the even rhythm of his breathing told me he was fast asleep.

I sat on the edge of the bed beside him, gently brushing a few stray locks of dark hair away from his forehead. He looked peaceful now, free from the crushing weight for a little while. But whatever Grandma had revealed to him in that back room had broken something deep inside him.

I looked down at him for a long, quiet moment, whispering softly to the silent room.

"What did you hear in that room that made you look at the world like this?"

I reached over and gently wrapped my fingers around his hand.

"Whatever it is... we’ll get through it. Together."

..

The first thing I did after waking up was check on Justin.

He was still fast asleep, having hardly moved from where I’d left him the night before. For someone who was usually up before sunrise for morning practice, seeing him sleep this late felt strange. His face looked calmer now, though. Less haunted.

I quietly pulled the blanket a little higher over his shoulder before slipping out of my room.

"Sleep," I whispered softly. "You need it."

I closed the door as gently as I could.

The warm smell of breakfast greeted me before I even reached the bottom of the stairs. Mom was humming softly while stirring a pot on the stove. Emma sat at the dining table with her laptop open, typing away at an assignment, while Noah was halfway through assembling a sandwich that looked like it belonged in a cooking competition.

Noah looked up first. "Morning."

"Morning."

Mom smiled over her shoulder. "Did Justin wake up yet?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. I think he really needed the sleep."

Mom nodded knowingly. "Poor boy. He looked completely exhausted yesterday."

Emma closed her laptop screen. "I’ve honestly never seen him look like that before."

"Me neither," I admitted quietly.

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Noah broke the silence. "When he wakes up... can I steal him for an hour?"

I blinked at him. "What for?"

He shrugged. "I promised he’d teach me how to shoot a hockey puck properly."

Emma burst into laughter. "You’ve been watching hockey videos for two weeks straight."

"I know," Noah countered, "but Coach Justin explains it way better."

I couldn’t help but laugh. "I’ll let him know."

Mom smiled warmly. "Ask him if he’d like some breakfast too. I made more than enough."

Something about the natural way she said it made my heart soften. It wasn’t Does your boyfriend want breakfast? or Is Justin still here? It was just a casual Ask him, as though he had always belonged at our kitchen table.

Emma leaned back in her chair. "My boss asked about him yesterday, by the way."

"The coffee shop lady?"

Emma nodded. "She saw that hockey interview online. She kept saying that young man looks like he carries the weight of the whole world on his shoulders."

I offered a sad, quiet smile. "She isn’t wrong."

Noah finally took a massive bite of his enormous sandwich. "Mmph. We should invite him over more often. He smiles way more here."

Mom reached over and gently patted my hand. "Everyone deserves a place where they can rest, sweetie."

I looked up toward the stairs. "Yeah. They do."

For a few peaceful minutes, we talked about everything except the drama hanging over us. Emma complained about a professor who assigned far too much reading, and Noah proudly announced he had gotten the highest grade in his history quiz.

Mom laughed when he admitted he had celebrated by buying himself a giant doughnut. "You celebrated one good grade with sugar?"

"It worked, didn’t it? You still got the grade report!"

We all laughed together. It felt normal, just like old times before the world decided to make our lives so complicated.

Then my phone rang in my pocket. Professor Silas.

I smiled and answered immediately. "Good morning, Professor."

"Morning, Harper." His voice sounded unusually serious on the line. "Do you have a quick minute?"

"Of course." I stepped out through the back door and into the backyard, pulling the sliding glass door shut behind me. "Is this about my documentary?"

"No," he said. "An internship."

My eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

Professor Silas chuckled softly. "I knew that would get your attention."

I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. "Oh my God... who is it?"

"One of the largest production companies in Hollywood."

I froze in my tracks.

"They’ve reviewed some of your previous work," he continued. "They’re offering you a paid internship position."

For a second, everything around me completely disappeared. Hollywood. A real, major production company. Working on actual movie sets. It was everything I had spent years dreaming about.

"They’ll provide full accommodation, a monthly salary, transportation, and meal allowances," Professor Silas detailed. "You’d be working directly under one of their senior producers. They’re offering you the kind of internship students spend years trying to secure."

I covered my mouth with one hand. "Professor... this is..."

"I know," he interrupted gently. "But don’t start celebrating just yet."

My smile slowly faded. "Why?"

"Because something about this doesn’t sit right with me."

A cold knot tightened in my stomach. "What do you mean?"

"They’ve attached one strict condition to the offer."

I frowned into the receiver. "What condition?"

"They want you to stop working on your documentary immediately."

Silence stretched over the line. I honestly thought I had misheard him.

"...What?"

"They’re asking you not to submit it," he repeated.

I blinked several times, my brain trying to process the request. "But... without the documentary, I can’t graduate."

"Exactly. And without graduating, you shouldn’t even qualify for an internship of this caliber." Professor Silas let out a heavy sigh. "That’s why I’m calling you directly. This doesn’t make any sense. They’re basically asking you to walk away from the very project that supposedly got their attention."

I felt my excitement vanish entirely, replaced by sharp suspicion.

"No," I said, shaking my head firmly. "No. Tell them I don’t want it."

Professor Silas was quiet for a second, then laughed softly. "Good girl. I was hoping you’d say that."

"My documentary is almost finished," I pressed on. "I’m not throwing months of hard work away for something that doesn’t even add up."

"Neither would I let you," he agreed warmly. "I’ll decline the offer immediately. And Harper..."

"Yes, Professor?"

"I’m proud of you. You chose your integrity over your ambition."

After the call ended, I slowly lowered my phone from my ear.

First, someone had tried to report my documentary. Someone had hacked into my files. Someone had deleted my raw footage. And now, someone was trying to bribe me into abandoning it entirely.

I turned around and looked back toward the house. Through the kitchen window, I could see Mom laughing at something silly Noah had said, while Emma snuck a piece of food off Noah’s plate as he loudly complained.

And upstairs, Justin was finally somewhere he felt safe enough to rest and sleep.

A quiet resolve settled over me, and I smiled to myself.

"No," I whispered to the empty yard. "Whatever this documentary is hiding... I’m finishing it. No matter who tries to stop me."

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