Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 183

JUSTIN’S POV

Finally off suspension and it feels like a ton of bricks just got lifted off my shoulders. I barely even noticed the three games I missed but damn, I’ve missed the rush of skating. Chasing the puck isn’t just a drill; it’s pure adrenaline, and anyone who says otherwise clearly hasn’t felt it.

Practice ended ten minutes ago, and the guys are still huddled in the tunnel, laughing and trash-talking like usual. Coach signals me over to the plexiglass, then walks off almost immediately, and I know it’s my cue to follow.

He probably wants to hit me with his usual lecture about fighting since he always does that, and he likes to look out for us like we’re his own.

The only time Coach ever acts like he doesn’t know us is if someone even dares mention his daughter. Cross that line, and you’re getting smacked metaphorically or not.

I knock before pushing his office door open.

“Coach, I-” I start, but stop mid-sentence as my gaze lands on a man sitting at the desk. He’s wearing a charcoal overcoat while holding a leather-bound notebook… and if my eyes aren’t lying, that notebook’s got the Bruins logo on it.

“Good day,” I say, my eyes darting between him and Coach, silently begging for someone…anyone, to rescue me or at least make an introduction.

“Justin,” Coach says, nodding toward the man. “This is Miller. He’s with the scouting department for the Bruins.”

My heart practically jumps out of my chest.

I’m a senior, yeah. Scouting season’s just starting, yeah. So why does this still feel like a shock? Wait…he hasn’t even said anything yet. I might be getting way ahead of myself.

“Good skate today, kid,” Miller says, extending his hand toward me. I take it, trying not to let my nerves show. “You’ve got a hell of a presence on the rink. Explosive.”

“Thanks, sir,” I manage, smirking. “I like to think it’s my charm.”

“And it is,” he says, flipping a page in his notebook, eyes scanning a row of hand written notes. “I’ve been tracking your stats since last season. You play a high-IQ game and your command on the ice is rare. But I did notice you haven’t been in the lineup the last three games. Everything all right?”

I shift on one foot and sneak a glance at Coach. He barely shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, but I catch it.

God forgive me, Katy, but this is for our future.

“Actually, sir,” I say, keeping my voice steady, “my sister had an accident, and our parents… they aren’t in the picture, so I had to be there.”

For a second, I brace for his reaction. In this sport, excuses for missed ice time usually get you crossed off a list. But there’s no way I’m telling him was suspended for fighting which is the number one reason athletes get passed over for drafts. Technically, since it wasn’t in the official record after Coach issued it, it’s like it never happened.

Miller closes his notebook, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I pump my fist, exhaling. I’ve got this. From now until graduation, I’m going to play like a beast. No missed games, no fights, nothing to screw this up. This has been my dream for as long as I can.

remember, and I can’t believe I’m finally this close.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk down the hallway with a grin I can’t hide. I’ve got to tell Allison and she’s going to lose it when she hears this. I can already picture the look on her face. Sure, my dad doesn’t own a fancy car dealership, but at least I’ve got a 90% shot at getting drafted by the Boston Bruins. Not bad for some bragging rights.

Stepping out into the cold air, I take a deep breath and everything smells cleaner like the world just hit refresh. I let out a small laugh, shaking my head as I head toward my car.

My hand dips into my pocket for my keys, but my phone buzzes instead. I pull it out without thinking.

The second my eyes narrow on the screen, the smile slides right off my face and my fingers tighten around the phone.

BLACK: Need a fresh round. Don’t be late this time or you pay extra.

Yeah. Maybe my chances aren’t ninety percent after all. Maybe they’re barely twenty, as long as Black has what he has on me.

One move from him and everything I’ve worked for goes up in smoke. My career, my future and my stupid, impossible dreams. All of it…gone.