Faking It With The Hockey Star

Harper’s POV

Morning sunlight spilled across Justin’s bedroom, warming my face before I even opened my eyes. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Then I felt a heavy arm tighten firmly around my waist.

I smiled without opening my eyes.

"You’re awake," Justin mumbled sleepily into the back of my neck.

"I’ve been awake for at least thirty seconds."

"Liar."

"I was enjoying the cuddle."

He chuckled softly, burying his face against my shoulder. "Five more minutes please baby."

"Justin..."

"No."

"You have exams and you need to read."

"So do you."

I laughed softly, turning in his arms until I was facing him directly. His dark hair was a complete mess. "You look terrible and hot at the same time."

"So do you."

"Excuse me?"

"You’ve got pillow lines on your face."

I immediately reached up to touch my cheek. "I do not."

"You do." He leaned forward and kissed the exact spot. "There. Fixed."

I rolled my eyes, smiling. "You’re impossible."

"But you love me."

"I really do."

His smile in that moment was worth every bit of chaos we had survived over the past few months.

About thirty minutes later, the warm smell of pancakes filled the entire apartment. Justin stood at the stove wearing nothing but gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt.

"I still don’t understand how you’re actually good at this," I admitted, leaning against the counter.

He flipped another pancake with practiced ease. "My grandmother. She taught me. I was her little kitchen assistant, though I mostly just stole chocolate chips when she wasn’t looking."

I laughed. "That sounds a lot more believable."

He placed a stacked plate in front of me with an exaggerated, formal bow. "Chef Justin’s award-winning pancakes."

"Oh?" I asked, picking up a fork. "What award?"

"The one I gave myself."

"They actually smell amazing."

"They are amazing."

I took one bite and nodded slowly. "Oh..."

He folded his arms proudly across his chest. "I know."

"You know, don’t you?"

"I absolutely know."

I shook my head, amused. "You hockey boys are ridiculously confident."

"We have to be." He grabbed a plate for himself and sat down across from me. "So, Professor Silas called yesterday" I said

Justin immediately looked up, his tone turning attentive. "Everything okay?"

I nodded. "He wants the final documentary files on Monday. He said if everything goes well, he will submit them to the student film festival too."

Justin’s face lit up with a broad smile. "That’s huge, Harper."

"I know. It feels unreal. I keep thinking someone is going to wake me up."

"You earned this," his voice was calm and entirely certain. "You’ve worked harder than anyone I know."

A warm heat crept into my cheeks. "Enough about me. What about you?"

He sighed dramatically, leaning back into his chair. "Business Strategy, Corporate Finance, Sports Management. My exams are officially trying to kill me. And I still have to go for practice and prepare for the last games"

I laughed. "So dramatic."

"I’m serious. If I disappear next week, tell everyone I died studying."

"I’ll make sure your obituary mentions accounting specifically."

He pointed his fork at me across the table. "I’d haunt you."

"I’d deserve it."

We both laughed. For just a little while, everything felt completely normal.

Then my phone rang on the counter. I glanced at the screen and saw Grandma Margaret’s caller ID.

I smiled, answering right away. "Good morning, Grandma. How are you?"

Her voice came through the line unusually serious. "Harper. Are you with Justin?"

I frowned, the change in her tone catching my attention. "Yeah. He’s right here."

There was a brief pause on the other end. Then, "I need both of you to come to Richard’s house."

My smile disappeared instantly. " why? What happened?"

Another heavy pause followed. "...Just come."

"Grandma—"

"Right now. Just get him here"

The line went dead.

Justin had already stood up from the table. "What is it?"

I slowly lowered my phone from my ear. "Your grandmother."

His expression tightened immediately. "What did she say?"

"She asked if I was with you."

"And?"

I swallowed hard. "She wants us at your father’s house."

His face paled. "Now? Is dad okay?"

I nodded, grabbing my keys from the counter. "She did not say, she said we should just come right now."

Neither of us spoke during the drive. The closer we got to the neighborhood, the heavier the silence became inside the truck. Justin’s fingers tightened around the leather steering wheel until his knuckles were white. I quietly reached over and rested my hand over his. He squeezed my fingers once, tightly, but neither of us said a word. We didn’t need to.

Twenty minutes later, Justin pulled into the familiar wide driveway. There were far more cars parked outside than usual: his grandparents’ car, his father’s, Diane’s, and even a heavy black SUV I didn’t recognize.

Justin frowned as he shifted into park. "What the hell..."

We stepped out of the car together. The front door of the house was already propped open. As soon as we walked into the spacious entryway, I froze in my tracks.

Richard stood near the fireplace. Diane stood right beside him, her posture rigid. Vanessa sat stiffly on one of the leather couches, and standing right beside her was Ethan.

Justin stopped walking entirely. "What is he doing here?"

Nobody answered him. His grandmother stepped forward into the center of the living room, her face calm. Too calm.

"Justin," she said softly.

He looked at her, stunned.

"Sit down."

His grandfather quietly closed the front door behind us, the heavy click echoing sharply through the grand room. Justin slowly took a seat beside me on the sofa. I could feel the mounting tension pressing against my chest like a physical weight.

His grandmother turned her gaze directly toward Diane, folding her hands neatly in front of her. Then she spoke in a voice so remarkably steady it sent chills down my spine.

"Before we begin... Diane, is there anything you would like to tell everyone in this room?"

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