Murphy sighed, pressing one more kiss to her lips before pulling back. “As much as I want to stay, I didn’t bring any of Finn’s stuff for overnight. And I really do need to get some rest if I’m gonna be worth a damn tomorrow.”
Her disappointment flickered across her face, and he caught it. He brushed his thumb along her jaw.
“After the game,” he promised. “Come over. Bring a change of clothes. Let’s actuallybetogether for a night.”
Her chest tightened, but she managed a small, shaky smile. “How are you so sure everything will work out?”
“Not sure,” he said, kissing her again, softer this time. “Just sure I want you there.”
Finn barked like he was seconding the idea, and Murphy laughed, grabbing the leash. “See? Even he agrees.”
They stood in her doorway far longer than either one of them meant to.
Murphy had Finn’s leash looped in his hand, jacket half-zipped, but every time he shifted toward leaving, Hillary would tilt her face up at him, and he’d lean down to steal another kiss. Soft ones, quick ones, long ones that made Finn huff impatiently at their feet.
“You really should go,” she whispered against his mouth, though her fingers stayed tangled in the fabric of his t-shirt.
“I know.” He kissed her again anyway. “I don’t want to.”
Her laugh was shaky, betraying more than she wanted to, and it made his chest ache in the best way. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re beautiful,” he countered, brushing a thumb over her cheek like he was memorizing her all over again.
Finally, with a groan that was half frustration, half resolve, he forced himself to step back. He tugged on Finn’s leash, gave her one last look—the kind that saidif you asked me to stay, I would—and then he slipped out into the night.
By the time he slid into the driver’s seat, Finn curling up in the passenger side like he belonged there, Murphy let himself smile. Not the bright, easy grin he gave the world, but the smaller, cautious one he only let out when he really meant it.
Maybe—just maybe—they were finding their way back.
49
HILLARY
Hillary had gotten into the office before the chaos, the way she always did. The halls were still dim and quiet, the hum of the vending machine the only sound as she unlocked her door and slipped inside.
She hung her coat on the back of the door, booted up her laptop, and tried to focus on the emails already waiting for her. Work. Work was safe. Work was steady.
Then came the knock. Soft. Familiar. Her heart stuttered even before she said, “Come in.”
The door swung open, and there he was. Murphy. Messy hair under a cap, that easy grin that undid her every time, a steaming coffee in one hand and a muffin bag in the other.
“You’re spoiling me,” she tried, but her voice was breathless.
“Good,” he said simply, walking in as if he belonged there. Setting the coffee on her desk, the muffin beside it. But instead of stepping back like usual, he leaned down, slow, giving her time to stop him.
She didn’t.
The kiss was soft at first, sweet, like a promise. But when she tilted her chin up, his hand slid into her hair, and the sweetnessmelted into something deeper. She sighed against him, dizzy at the way one simple kiss from Murphy could scatter every defense she’d ever built.
When he finally pulled back, there was that grin again, softer this time. “Morning, Boss.”
Her lips curved into a soft smile. “Morning, Rookie.”
Murphy lingered close, his forehead almost brushing hers, his voice low. “I don’t have much time before practice, but . . . I need to ask. Where do we stand on telling people?”
The question hit harder than she expected. Of course it was coming—this thing between them wasn’t just stolen kisses anymore—but hearing him say it out loud made her pulse spike.
She forced herself to meet his eyes. Steady. Warm. Always steady. “Oh, we never did talk about that, did we?”
