Hillary’s breath caught, just enough to make her glance down at her phone before looking back. It was nothing. A flicker. Invisible to anyone but her.
"Everything okay?" Sasha asked, still filming but flicking her a sidelong look.
"Fine," Hillary said, smoothing her voice until it was all professionalism. "Just thinking through next week's schedule."
Sasha hummed, unconvinced but not pushing.
Hillary’s gaze drifted back to Murphy. Tonight would be the last time. She’d told herself that before, but this time she meant it. No more lines blurred, no more quiet moments that had nothing to do with the job.
Still, the surprise of the disappointment, sharp and unwelcome, settled in her chest. Best to end it now, before it was more than she could afford to feel.
8
MURPHY
Murphy slumped onto the bench in the locker room, peeling off his gear one piece at a time. Conner dropped down beside him with a friendly nod.
“Good skate today. You’re looking solid out there.”
“Thanks, Captain,” Murphy said with a tired grin. “Been putting in the work.”
Conner cracked his knuckles, stretching. “Summer treating you right? Getting some training?”
"Oh yeah, I've spent a lot of the summer in the gym." Murphy paused, thinking. “But mostly time with my family. My brother’s been keeping me grounded.”
“Sounds like a good thing.”
“Yeah. It is. Keeps me humble.”
Conner chuckled. “My sister's the same. No one can remind you of where you came from quite like a sibling.”
Murphy laughed. “That's definitely true.”
Conner stood to go to the shower, and Murphy finished with his gear. This was his second year in the league, and he still had to pinch himself to remind himself that this was actually happening. After a lifetime of hard work, he'd been drafted in hisjunior year when he played for BU. He finished school, and after graduation, he joined the team.
He looked around the room. Working with these guys, for this organization, was a dream come true. And this year, he wasn't the rookie anymore. It was going to be a good year.
Later that night, Murphy pulled up to Hillary’s house carrying a pizza box and a bottle of wine. The porch light flicked on, and she opened the door, a small smile greeting him.
“Come on in,” she said, stepping aside.
A bottle of wine and a pizza later, he was finishing up. Murphy wiped his hands on a rag, surveying the freshly assembled shelves as if he’d just built the Eiffel Tower. “Not bad for a hockey player, huh?”
Hillary laughed, the sound slipping out before she could stop it. “I’ll admit, I thought we’d end the night with a pile of wood and me googling ‘emergency handyman.’”
He grinned, dropping down onto the couch beside her. “You wound me.”
He picked up the last piece of pizza as the theme song to Gilmore Girls played. "How many times have you watched this show?" he asked.
"It's a classic," she said, moving closer to him.
"So countless times," he said, resting his arm on the back of the couch.
She bit her lips and smiled up at him before scooting over more.
They leaned into each other, laughter softening into a charged quiet. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering against her cheek. Her breath hitched—then his mouth was on hers, warm and insistent. The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against hers, tasting her like he’d been starving for it. His hand slid under her t-shirt, palm warm against the curve of her waist before dipping lower, fingersbrushing the lace edge of her panties. She gasped into his mouth, arching when he slipped his hand between her thighs.
“Murphy—”
