“Just checking on my favorite son,” she teased.
"We both know that's not true," he said with an easy smile.
"What?! Of course, it is. You know the rule: whoever I'm talking to is my favorite."
They caught up easily—her book club gossip, his update on camp. Then she asked about his schedule. "I know you’ll be super busy, so no pressure, but I wanted to know if you'll be able to make it home for Patrick's birthday. I know it is the weekend before your season starts, but?—"
“I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Oh, good, he'll be so happy,” she laughed. “You’re his hero, you know.”
The words hit him right in the chest. “Nah. He’s mine.”
When they hung up, the condo felt quieter, but not lonely. He plated his food with a smile, the warmth of home still lingering in his chest—and, despite himself, the image of Hillary’s scowl in the mirror replaying in his mind like his favorite highlight reel.
11
HILLARY
Hillary was slipping on her blazer when her phone rang. Sydney’s name flashed on the screen. She answered, still juggling her bag and keys.
“Hey, Syd?—”
Her sister’s voice was tight. “I just got a message from Mom.”
“What did she say?” Hillary asked with a sigh.
“She’s still trying to get me to come to Grandma’s birthday. She said if I don’t come home, I’ll regret it when it’s her ‘last one.’”
Hillary rolled her eyes. “That hateful biddy will outlive us all.”
“I know, but . . . it still got to me. I mean, what if she’s right?”
“This is the woman who took your trust fund away because you wanted to save children instead of getting married and joining the DAR or whatever the fuck she wanted.”
Sydney took a deep breath. “You’re right. I know you’re right. How do you let this stuff not bother you?”
“They decided a long time ago I was a lost cause.” Hillary softened her tone. “Don’t let her guilt you. You’re doing what’s right for you. I’m proud of you, Syd.”
They talked for another few minutes, Hillary offering reassurance until she absolutely had to leave. “I’ve gotta head to work, but call me later, okay?”
By the time she got to the center, she was focused. This was the last pre-season game before the season officially started, and there was plenty to do. She settled at her desk, answering emails and reviewing schedules.
A knock at her door made her smile before she even looked up. Murphy. He’d brought her coffee every morning since the start of the season. The only time he hadn’t was when he was on the road for a preseason game a few days ago. While she was still almost certain she’d done the right thing putting a stop to their hooking up, she still loved her daily dose of caffeine—and Murphy. His smile and positive attitude were like a shot of joy straight to her veins. Plus the coffee . . . she could already taste the first sip.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened, and her smile faltered. It wasn’t Murphy. It was Sasha, holding a folder.
“Morning,” Sasha said, stepping in.
“Morning.” Hillary tried to hide her disappointment.
Sasha’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Hillary said lightly, waving it off. “I’m glad you’re here. We need to finalize the plan for opening week.”
Sasha didn’t push. Instead, she dropped into the chair across from Hillary’s desk. “That’s why I’m here. I sent you a file with what I have so far, but I just wanted to touch base.”
