Coach studied him a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright. But listen to me—there’s no shame in asking for help. Got it?”
“Got it,” Murphy said, forcing a steady voice.
Coach dismissed him with a wave, already turning back to his notes.
Murphy stood, leaving the office with his chest still tight. He told himself he was fine. Hewouldfix it. He had to.
By the time Murphy left the rink, the adrenaline had drained out of him, leaving nothing but exhaustion. He walked into his condo building on autopilot, his bag heavy on his shoulder.
As much as he wanted to be with Hillary—as much as he was sure she wanted to be with him—she’d drawn the line. He needed to accept it.
But walking into the quiet of his condo, the loneliness hit like a body check.
Even knowing that at least six of his teammates lived in the building, his unit felt too still. Too empty.
He punched the button for the elevator and leaned back against the wall. The lobby doors slid open behind him, and in strode Ethan Yellowtail, their goalie, his long black hair braided neatly down his back. Beside him trotted Ernie, his golden retriever, tongue lolling and tail wagging.
“Hey, man,” Ethan said, nodding.
Murphy crouched automatically, holding out a hand. Ernie licked his fingers enthusiastically before nudging against his chest for more. Murphy laughed, rubbing the dog’s ears. “Well, hey there, buddy.”
“You’ve got a fan,” Ethan said, amused.
“Guess so,” Murphy grinned, still petting. Then, glancing up, asked, “How do you manage this with our schedule? Road trips, practices . . . all of it?”
Ethan shrugged. “There’s a woman in the building who helps. She watches Ernie, and Niko’s bulldog too, when we’re gone. She runs a rescue program, actually. Good with dogs.”
Murphy’s hand stilled on Ernie’s head. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Ethan reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, then paused and gave Murphy a once-over before slipping it back. “She’s got a litter coming soon. Always looking for good homes.”
Murphy tilted his head. “You saying I should get a dog?”
Ethan smirked, hitting the elevator button again. “I’m saying you seem like the kind of guy whoneedsone.”
Murphy looked down at Ernie, who blinked up at him with big brown eyes and thumped his tail against the floor.
And for the first time in days, Murphy felt a flicker of something bright.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
"That's the contact info for the woman I got Ernie from. You should talk to her."
Murphy stood as the elevator hit his floor. "Thanks, maybe I will."
A few textsand days later, Murphy found himself knocking on the door of a cozy ground-floor apartment.
A middle-aged woman with warm eyes and a streak of silver in her braid opened the door. The sound of tiny barks and scrabbling paws spilled out into the hallway.
“You must be Murphy,” she said, smiling like she already knew him. “Come in.”
The moment he stepped inside, his heart stopped. A cluster of golden retriever puppies tumbled across the floor toward him, their ears too big for their heads, tails wagging furiously.
“These little ones were pulled from a puppy mill,” the woman explained, crouching down as she scooped up one squirming bundle. “Their mama’s safe now, and they’re ready to start looking for homes.”
Murphy dropped to his knees as one of the puppies clambered into his lap, licking his chin with enthusiastic devotion.
The woman chuckled. “Ethan said it was a crime that you don’t already have a dog. He’s been with me for years. Uou come highly recommended. I’ve even got an opening in the care rotation for when you’re on the road.”
