Back in the VIP section, the music picked up again, and the groupies already there were swaying to the beat. One of them tugged him up with a laugh, and Murphy went along, still high on adrenaline. It was innocent—just moving to the music, still grinning like a fool.
Then he saw her.
Sasha and Hillary had slipped into the box to film the guys watching the show. Sasha had her camera up, beaming. But Hillary—Hillary’s eyes were locked on him, cool and cutting.
The realization hit like a jolt to the chest. She was jealous. And as much as he hated the thought of upsetting her, some traitorous part of him liked it.
Murphy dropped back into his seat immediately, murmuring a polite word to the woman before turning all his focus forward. But it was too late. Hillary didn’t look at him again. Not for the rest of the night.
She spoke to Sasha, to the band’s manager, to anyone who wasn’t him. She kept her smile professional, her distance unshakable.
Murphy let her have the space she clearly wanted. But underneath, his determination only hardened.
If she glared, she cared. Maybe not the most healthy dynamic, but he didn’t care.
And if she felt something, he wasn’t giving up.
21
HILLARY
By the time Hillary got into the office the next morning, her head was already pounding. The late night at the concert had left her wrung out, and now it was game day—always the busiest. Her inbox was stacked, her planner already filled with more meetings than hours in the day.
Sasha breezed in, humming one of North Star’s songs under her breath, phone in hand. “You have to see this.” She dropped into the chair opposite Hillary’s desk and spun her phone around. Metrics and engagement charts filled the screen. “The collab is everywhere. Trending on TikTok, Instagram, everywhere. The band’s fans are losing their minds, and so are ours. This is the kind of content people remember.”
Hillary managed a smile. “It worked out.”
“Worked out?” Sasha shot her a look. “This was gold. Pure gold.”
And she was right. Hillary felt it too, the thrill of pulling off something big, something the whole league would be talking about. The footage had been incredible, the players had been perfect, and the band had been generous and enthusiastic. It was a win in every sense.
But the unmovable pit in her stomach remained. Every time she thought about the concert, her mind circled back to Murphy. To him, laughing, dancing—with someone else.Someone his age. Someone who probably listened to North Star unironically and didn’t need to Google them first. Someone who wasn’t weighed down by baggage, by too many birthdays, by being too serious for her own good.
He deserved that. Didn’t he?
“Okay, I’m off to prep pregame socials,” Sasha said, springing up again. She gave Hillary a curious look but didn’t press. “Don’t work yourself into the ground.”
When the door clicked shut, Hillary dropped her forehead to her desk. The wood was cool against her skin, the silence too sharp in her ears.
A knock sounded a moment later.
She groaned. “Come in.”
The door opened, and there he was. Murphy, broad-shouldered and smiling, a coffee cup in one hand and a familiar paper bag in the other.
“I thought you could use this,” he said simply.
The scent of lemon-blueberry drifted across the room as he set the bag on her desk. Hillary’s lips betrayed her, curling into a smile before she could stop them.
For a beat, Hillary just stared at him, stunned he’d even come. After last night—after the way she’d been cold to him on purpose—she hadn’t expected him to show up at her door with coffee and muffins.
Her stomach twisted. He hadn’t deserved the ice treatment, not really. He’d been dancing, laughing, caught up in the night. And she’d punished him for it.
The guilt made her words sharper than she meant. “Did you get her number?”
She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. Part of her thought maybe shewantedto hear he did—that it would prove her right. That he’d be better off with someone younger, someone his age. Someone uncomplicated.
But when his grin spread across his face, her heart sank.Oh no. He did. He’s about to tell me all about it.
