The sun had sunk lower than before, and for the first time all day, I truly noticed how beautiful this golden hour was. The warmth of our quiet moment on the ice lingered between us as we stopped beside my car.
I turned to Sean as he tugged on his team’s cap. “Gliding out there, away from everyone’s opinions… it’s like breathing fresh air.”
“You needed it. A little space from reality with someone in your corner.” He stepped closer, fingers brushing mine. “I meant what I said: We’re in this together.”
My heart leapt into my throat, just like it always did when he got this close. But that promise he repeated fanned the spark higher. He held my gaze, and the fading sunlight caught in his eyes, turning them warm and rich like dark amber. The faint scent of the rink clung to him, clean and sharp, and I wondered if he knew how easy it was to feel steady with him. It was almost absurd how much I wanted to lean in, to steal the moment before it slipped away.
“I know you like to stay in the background.”
I gave him a sheepish look. My secret life as an undercover wallflower was officially exposed.
“You used to be more active on social media in college. I did some research today,” he continued.
My brows lifted, the corner of my mouth curled. “You stalked me?”
“Yeah, for a good cause,” he said dryly. “Something’s happening right now at the park, the same one we went to. Asher kicked it off during drills this morning, and the guys jumped on it like fire catching in dry grass.”
My pulse kicked. “What is it?”
“A photo shoot. You and me with the team and the WAGs. Fun, casual, sunset backdrop, group shots, couple shots, goofy stuff. There’s a photographer there now.”
“What for?”
“To shift the narrative. I want those pictures everywhere—your feed, mine. Me with you. Hell, they have to know.” Hiswords came fast and edged. The headline had picked a fight with the wrong man, and he was furious.
I stared at him. This absurdly thoughtful, intense, and strategic-as-heck man already had a plan in motion.
“You trust me, Mel?”
I took a slow breath, stepped close, and leaned my cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt. “Yes.”
Because when an entire NHL team rallied with your boyfriend for a photo op to defend your honor, you say yes. Now, everyone would know I was officially Coach Murphy’s girlfriend. Officially off the market—and not quietly.
Sean slid his hand around me. “This? This is the prelude to clawing our way to a win. You, me, and the Stanley Cup within shouting distance this weekend.”
My brows lifted. “Always coaching, huh?”
He grinned. “Occupational hazard. Are we ready?”
“Yeah.”
We drove around the arena to the lot by the park, and before I could process anything else, three women approached—Sadie, Reena, and someone new.
“Olivia,” she said with a smile, offering her hand. “You’re Mel, right? Let’s get you photo-ready.”
“See you soon,” Sean said, before they whisked me away between two SUVs.
I blinked at the whirlwind. The women were dressed in relaxed, stylish looks—flowy jumpsuits, soft linen tops with simple jewelry, wrap skirts, worn-in denim and sneakers dusted from the grass. It was casual with a touch of flair, the kind of effortless cool that looked good in golden hour light.
“Think laid-back summer editorial,” Reena said with a grin. “A little vintage, a little modern.”
Sadie handed me a change of clothes. “Let’s break the shutter count,” she said with a wink.
I stepped into the mobile changing area with a laugh: a lightweight boatneck blouse with gathered sleeves and a patterned wrap skirt that hit just above the knees, flattering, and surprisingly me. The outfit nailed the throwback vibe, playful and polished all in one.
Olivia clipped a barrette into my hair, the orange details tied the look of the outfit together.
“Team colors,” she said with the confidence of someone who knew how to make a moment count.
