“We love you too.” And then she was gone.
Murphy sat frozen, phone still in his hand. Conner leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“Murph,” he said quietly, “Talk to me.”
Murphy blew out a shaky breath. “They found internal bleeding. Patrick’s back in surgery. And I’m stuck here.”
Conner’s eyes softened. “Man . . . I’m so sorry.” He paused, giving Murphy space, then added, “You don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got people here. And maybe you don’t have to be here at all.”
Before Murphy could answer, the door at the end of the hall clicked open. Coach Wagner was passing by, his sharp eyes immediately locking on Murphy’s face, then the way Conner hovered beside him.
“Something up?”
Conner tilted his head toward Murphy. “Can we talk in your office, Coach?”
A few minutes later, they were behind closed doors. Wagner folded his arms, steady and direct. “What’s going on, Murphy?”
Murphy rubbed his temples, words grinding out. “My brother’s in surgery. Internal bleeding. My family’s in Boston. I should be there, but—” His throat locked. “The team. Playoffs. I don’t know what to do.”
The coach was quiet for a beat, then spoke evenly. “You’ve been giving everything you’ve got on the ice. No one doubts yourcommitment. But family comes first. Always.” He glanced at Conner, who nodded firmly.
“We’ve got one game left in the regular season,” Wagner continued. “It won’t change anything for the playoffs. If you want to fly home, we’ll cover it. Sit this game out. Be with your family.”
The words hit Murphy square in the chest. Relief and guilt tangled in equal measure. “Are you sure? I don’t want to let the guys down.”
“You won’t,” Conner cut in. “We’ve got you. Go. Be where you need to be.”
Murphy pressed a hand over his mouth, emotions raw and close. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll do it.”
Coach leaned forward. “Good man. I’ll clear it with the front office. Go pack a bag.”
Murphy managed a rough thank you. For the first time since his mom’s call, he felt like he could breathe.
55
HILLARY
Hillary was still smiling at her coffee when her computer pinged. She checked her inbox, expecting another routine update, but froze when she saw the name.
Kevin Kwan – HR
The subject line was simple:Need to connect.
Her stomach dipped. She clicked it open.
Hillary,
I’d like to stop by your office in about 30 minutes to discuss something that’s come across my desk. Nothing urgent, but it should be addressed sooner rather than later.
– Kevin
“Nothing urgent.” The phrase did nothing to calm her. HR didn’t schedule quick chats for fun.
Her mind instantly ran through a dozen possibilities. Sven and Natalie again? Another blog spinning something into chaos? Or—her pulse spiked—it could be Murphy.
She was not his boss. Their jobs had nothing to do with each other. It was allowed. It still did not calm her.
She shut her laptop and leaned back in her chair, pressing her palms against her thighs. Thirty minutes. That was all thetime she had to brace herself before Kevin walked in with whatever new storm was brewing.
