They went over social media strategies: highlight reels, community events, and player features. Hillary scribbled notes, grateful for the distraction, though the lingering absence of her morning coffee delivery tugged at her.
Later, Hillary walked into a meeting with organization heads, still under-caffeinated. She found herself zoning out. Her mindwandered to Murphy, from his grin and his easy teasing, to the way he always seemed to know exactly how she liked her coffee.
After the meeting, she went looking for him, partly because she needed reshoots for a project, partly . . . well, she didn’t want to admit the other reason.
The ice was empty, and the weight room wasn’t as full as usual. A few vets were training because this preseason game was mostly prospects and some mid-liners, but no Murphy.
Across the room, she spied Sasha and Conner. She was taking some shots of him as he explained some of what the training the team does. Tips from the captain had become an internet hit. Most of their social media had, thanks to Sasha.
As she watched, Hillary couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy at how easily Conner flirted with Sasha. They’d gotten together after the gala, and instead of hiding it, they’d claimed each other publicly. If she had done that with Murphy, maybe things would have been different.
Only Conner wasn’t ten years younger than Sasha. Conner was a grown man. And yes, Murphy had surprised her by being amazingly kind and responsible for a twenty-three-year-old, but he was twenty-three. Well, twenty-four now, but that didn’t matter. She was thirty-three. And no matter how many times he called her boss, she was not his boss. But, even though she may not be his boss, she was still in a leadership position in the organization. She could not date a player.
She stopped one of the trainers in the hall. “Have you seen Murphy?”
“He left this morning for a family thing. Gone for the weekend.”
“Really? He left the week before the season opener?” Hillary asked, a little shocked.
The trainer’s brow creased a little before nodding. “The guys who aren’t playing in the last preseason game have a rest weekend.”
“Oh,” Hillary said, masking her reaction with a nod. “Thanks.”
Her stomach sank before she forced her feet toward her office. She told herself it was the reshoots she was upset about. But the hollow ache in her chest said otherwise.
That night, Hillary got home and, once again, slipped off her heels and kicked them into a pile. Then she changed into her comfy clothes before collapsing onto the couch. She picked up her phone and looked at what options she had to order for dinner. Nothing sounded good.
She slammed her phone on the couch next to her and pushed her head back onto the cushions with a groan. What was wrong with her? She should be lost in work—it was the beginning of the season. She should be making sure all the brand deals and community partners were ready to go. This was her busiest time of the year, but all she wanted to do was see Murphy.
She picked her phone back up with every intention of ordering food, only somehow, she ended up in her texts, pulling up Murphy’s contact. Yes, she had said they needed to end things, but as if on their own, her fingers tapped out:
Hillary – Are you busy?
Murphy – What’s up, boss?
Hillary – I just wanted to order a pizza, and I can’t eat the whole thing myself.
Murphy – As much as I would love to lend my pizza-eating abilities, I’m out of town. But Sunday night, I can swing by and eat whatever it is you need me to eat
Just the thought of what he was hinting at reddened her cheeks. He was really good at that.
Hillary – See you at work, Rookie.
She knew he was going out of town, but she had hoped he might not be gone yet. It was fine. It was for the best, really. Her decision to end it was the right one . . . wasn’t it?
She opened the delivery app and ordered a sub sandwich. Food for one, just what she needed—and yet it felt emptier than she’d expected.
12
HILLARY
The season was in full swing, and Hillary loved this time of year. The air had a crisp fall feel to it in the morning. The team had won their first three away games. This was Hillary in her element.
By the time she reached her office that morning, the buzz in the building was different—charged. While they'd played a few games, their first home game was three days away. There was a lot to do before that. She needed to check in with all their sponsors, donors, and community partners. The home game season opener would set the tone for the whole season, and she needed to put her best foot forward.
On top of that, October meant the annual food drive. The food drive came first, and it was a big push with donors to greet, footage to capture for the jumbotron, and community partners to keep happy. It was a tightrope she walked well.
She was halfway through a to-do list when a knock came at her door. She looked up with a grin already forming: Murphy. He strolled in, coffee in hand, and dropped into the chair across from her.
