“Tell that to the Cup,” Conner shot back, snapping his stick against the ice when a pass didn’t connect.
Murphy skated in close, trying to diffuse. Conner tended to get intense when it was time for the playoffs.
“Hey, man, we’re clicking. We’ll keep building, that’s all.”
But Conner wasn’t having it. He whirled on them, sweat dripping, eyes blazing. “You need to keep your head in it, Murph. Not with your new girlfriend.”
The words hung in the cold air, sharp as a slap. A couple of guys slowed their drills, eyes flicking toward them.
Murphy’s chest tightened. He wanted to bite back, to tell Conner to shut the hell up, but the sting of it cut deeper than he expected. Hillary. His happiness. Out here, in front of everyone.
Wes stepped between them with a low whistle. “Easy. We’re on the same team, remember?”
Conner grumbled but skated off, still simmering.
Murphy clenched his jaw, forced his legs to move, to keep skating. To prove Conner wrong. But inside, the words had lodged like a puck to the ribs, bruising and tender.
As soon as they were off the ice, Conner was on him. “Hey, Murph—” he started, breathless, tugging off his gloves. His facesoftened, regret plain in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that out there. I’m sorry, man.”
Murphy forced a nod, tugging at the tape on his stick. “It’s fine.” But it wasn’t. The damage was already done.
By the time they stepped into the locker room, the cat was out of the bag.
The locker room was buzzing as guys peeled off gear and towels snapped through the air.
“Alright, Murph,” one of them called, grinning like a shark. “Conner slipped up. Who’s the mystery girlfriend?”
“Yeah, spill it,” another chimed in. “We’re done guessing.”
Murphy tugged his pads off slowly, every eye on him. His first instinct was to laugh it off, keep it light, but something in his chest shifted. He was tired of hiding. Hillary deserved more than that.Theydeserved more than that.
He sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s Hillary.”
The room went still for a beat, the quiet broken almost instantly by whistles, shouts, and half-shocked laughter.
“No way.”
“You meanBoss Lady?”
“Man, you’re playing with fire!”
But beneath all the noise, Murphy caught Conner’s expression. He looked gutted, like he’d just dropped a puck in his own net.
Murphy gave him a faint, reassuring nod. This wasn’t on Conner anymore, this was on him.
“She’s amazing,” Murphy said simply, his voice steady even as his stomach churned. “So yeah. That’s where it’s at.”
The razzing picked back up, but this time it was different, less guessing, more incredulous teasing. A couple of guys clapped him on the back, a few cracked jokes about “dating the boss,” but Murphy stood firm.
Inside, though, he knew one thing for certain: he had to warn Hillary. Before this got anywhere beyond the locker room.
Murphy dug into his duffel, pulling out his phone with every intention of firing off a quick
Murphy - Hey, the cat’s out of the bag. Locker room knows about us. Was a matter of time.
Only his thumb froze.
Five missed calls from Mom.
