Chapter 46: Rich Grandparents
Haper’s pov
Justin gave my hand one last squeeze before his phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen. "I need to take this," he said.
I nodded. He stepped into the hallway, answering before the doors even closed behind him.
That left me with Mom, Emma, Noah, and the hospital manager.
The change happened so fast it almost gave me whiplash. The same man who’d refused to meet our eyes less than ten minutes ago practically hurried toward us wearing a smile so polished it looked painful.
"Miss Brooks! Mrs. Brooks!" His voice was suddenly warm. Far too warm. "We sincerely apologize for the misunderstanding."
I blinked. A misunderstanding? Five minutes ago you were refusing to authorize my mother’s treatment. Now it’s a misunderstanding?
The manager clasped his hands together. "If you’ll come with me, we’ve prepared one of our private consultation rooms. A specialist will be with you shortly."
Before I could respond, two nurses appeared as if they’d been waiting for a cue. One smiled at my mother. "Mrs. Brooks, may I wheel you in?" Another turned to me. "Can I get you some water? Tea? Coffee?"
I stared at her. Was this the same woman who’d walked straight past us earlier? "Water’s fine," I answered cautiously.
"Of course," she said, and hurried away.
Emma leaned toward me. "Did they switch shifts or something?" she whispered.
"I don’t think so," I murmured back.
Noah looked between us. "This is weird," he said flatly, clearly sensing the bullshit.
That was putting it mildly. Mom looked just as confused as the rest of us, but she managed a small smile as the nurses carefully wheeled her toward the consultation room. I followed behind, saying nothing. Watching everything.
The receptionist kept stealing guilty glances in my direction before quickly looking away whenever our eyes met. One of the nurses apologized for the wait. Another apologized for the inconvenience. A third offered us blankets. The sudden change was too much like there where
People don’t change this quickly. Not unless something changes above them. Someone had made another phone call. My gaze drifted toward the large windows overlooking the hospital entrance. Justin still stood outside, phone pressed to his ear, speaking calmly. Not pacing. Not arguing. Just talking.
A knot tightened in my stomach. Who exactly had he called?
...
By the time Mom was settled into the consultation room, Justin walked back inside. His shoulders looked more relaxed than before. Too relaxed. He caught me watching him and smiled. "Everything okay?" he asked.
I folded my arms. "Is everything okay?"
He glanced toward my mom, who was already chatting with one of the nurses. "Looks like it," he said.
I narrowed my eyes. "That’s not what I asked."
He slipped his phone into his pocket. "Your mom’s getting treated," he said, his smile softening. "That’s what matters." It did but it wasn’t an answer I needed. Something about him had changed in the last few minutes, like he had solved a problem and quietly tucked the solution away where no one else could find it. He was hiding something.
"Who did you call?" I asked.
"My grandmother," he answered, almost too quickly. "I was checking in. She and Grandpa actually want to see us on Tuesday, a quick dinner." He added it casually, like it was nothing, clearly trying to change the subject.
"Checking in," I repeated.
"Mhm."
"Interesting." I slowly pulled out my phone. Justin’s eyebrows lifted. "What?" he asked.
"While you were outside," I said, unlocking my screen, "I got curious." I tapped twice. "So I Googled your grandparents." I turned the screen toward him. "Care to explain why this hospital has your family name on the front of the building?"
He looked at the screen. Then at me. Then somewhere over my shoulder. "it is just a Coincidence," he said.
I burst out laughing. "Coincidence?"
"People share names,besides, they are on the board of directors here" he said, keeping a straight face.
"Justin."
"Hmm?"
"You’re a terrible liar," I said.
He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "I’m offended."
I pointed at his face. "Your left eye twitched."
His expression changed instantly. "My eye twitched?" His hand flew to his face. "No." He switched on his front-facing camera and examined himself from three different angles.
I couldn’t hold it together anymore. Laughter spilled out before I could stop it. "I knew it!"
He slowly lowered the phone. Realization dawned across his face. "You set me up," he said.
"I absolutely did," I confirmed.
"That was mean," he said.
"It was hilarious," I replied.
"It wasn’t funny."
"It absolutely was."
He shook his head slowly. "I can’t believe I fell for that." "Oh, you completely fell for it," I said. "I’ve made a terrible mistake," he muttered. "What mistake?" "Teaching you how to read my tells." I grinned. "Too late." He sighed dramatically. "I’m never living this down." "Nope," I agreed.
For the first time all day, we laughed. Real laughter. The kind that loosened something tight inside my chest.
..
A few minutes later, Justin leaned against the wall beside me. "Oh," he said, snapping his fingers. "By the way."
"What?" I asked.
"I talked to Coach," he said. The smile faded from my face. "Everything okay?" He nodded. "Scouting starts next month." Right. The NHL. For a second I’d almost forgotten that life outside this hospital still existed. "They’re not just watching how I play anymore," he continued. "The scouts look at everything."
"Everything?" I repeated.
"My interviews. Social media. Leadership. How I handle pressure. My reputation." He counted each one off on his fingers.
I frowned thoughtfully. "So everything around hockey."
"Exactly." An idea immediately sparked in my head.
"Our documentary," I said.
He smiled. "What about it?"
"We’ve already filmed most of the practices. Nearly all the interviews. The training sessions. The team meetings." I looked up at him. "We’re only missing scouting week and selection day."
Justin nodded. "Exactly. And I think we need more behind-the-scenes footage."
My brain shifted into filmmaker mode before he even finished the sentence. "The locker room," I said. He smiled. "The bus rides. Recovery sessions. The trainers. The guys messing around after practice. The equipment staff." I could already picture the edits. "The documentary can’t just be about you. It has to feel like the whole team. The audience should feel like they’re inside the season."
Justin watched me with an expression I couldn’t quite place. "What?" I asked.
"I knew you’d figure it out," he said quietly.
Heat crept into my cheeks. "I think too much."
"You think exactly enough," he said.
..
When we stepped back into Mom’s room, she was laughing softly at something one of the nurses had said. Really laughing. Not forcing it. The fear I’d seen in her eyes earlier had disappeared. At least for today. For today, she was safe.
Without thinking, I slipped my hand into Justin’s. No announcement. No awkward glance. Just gratitude. His fingers intertwined with mine immediately. Warm. Steady. Reliable.
Maybe this is what it feels like, I thought, to have someone standing beside you instead of expecting you to stand alone.
Justin gave my hand a gentle squeeze. Without looking at me, he said quietly, "Monday."
I smiled. "Monday."
We walked toward the hospital exit together. For the first time in days, the weight on my shoulders felt a little lighter.
...
Across the street, a dark sedan remained parked exactly where it had been for the last twenty minutes. The man inside lowered his phone. "They’re leaving," he said. Silence. "Understood." The call ended. The sedan didn’t move. It simply waited.
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