Her expression didn’t crack. “That’s good. She’s . . . she’s a great match for someone.”
The words sat heavily between them. He wanted to askWhat about us?But she’d been clear, hadn’t she?
He shifted, suddenly itching to get out of the office. “I should head to practice.”
At the doorway, he hesitated. Something in him couldn’t just leave it at that.
“And just so you know, I didn’t really like that you had me ask her out. I will try to get over you, but don’t do that again.”
He wasn’t sure where the courage for that came from, but he was happy he said it. That was until he got her reply.
“Noted,” was all she said.
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, heavy and loaded.
Then he shook his head. “I gotta get to practice.”
He slipped out before she could say anything else, her voice echoing in his head long after the door shut.
Murphy shoved into the locker room, his jaw tight. He needed to shake it off—whateverthathad been with Hillary—and center himself before hitting the ice. The rink was supposed to be his escape, his reset.
He sank onto the bench, tugging off his shoes and reaching for his gear when Sven slid into the stall beside him. For once, the big forward didn’t come with a smirk or some sarcastic jab. Instead, he cleared his throat.
“Hey.”
Murphy glanced over. “Hey.”
Sven rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “About the other night. At the escape room. I was a dick. Shouldn’t have gone at you like that.”
Murphy’s brows lifted in surprise. Sven didn’t apologize. Like, ever. He pulled his laces tight and gave a small shrug. “It’s fine.”
“No, really,” Sven pressed. “You didn’t deserve it. I was dealing with my own shit. Took it out on you.”
Murphy nodded, letting it slide, but inside, something twisted. Everyone seemed to be “dealing with their own shit” lately. Himself included.
By the time they hit the ice, he could already feel that restless pull in his muscles—the urge to skate harder, faster, to punish his body until the noise in his head went quiet. But he knew where that path led, and it wasn’t good.
He exhaled through his nose, forced himself to dial it back, to justskate the drill. Tape-to-tape passes. Keep his legs moving. Don’t let the chaos spill out here.
All he had to do was get through practice. Then he could go home. Home to Finn, waiting with his goofy ears and clumsy paws, ready to love him without conditions or questions.
Murphy gritted his teeth, focusing on the puck at his stick. Yeah. He could do this. Just the skate. Then home to Finn.
40
HILLARY
Hillary balanced her phone in one hand and her work bag in the other as she nudged her office door open.
The sight waiting on her desk pulled a smile across her face despite herself.
Vanilla latte. Extra shot.
Murphy.
Even after everything—after she’d drawn the line, after she’d told herself distance was the only responsible choice—he was still leaving her coffee. Still thinking of her. She hung her coat on the back of the door and sank into her chair, willing herself not to linger on the ache in her chest.
This was for the best.
