She nodded, throat tight. “Okay. Then that’s the plan.”
Why was she even here? This was not helping anything. Yet, for some strange reason, her feet stayed there, cemented to the ground. She needed to get out of here.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I came.” She moved toward the door, desperate for air.
“Hillary, wait.”
Her hand froze on the knob. She turned.
“You and me,” he said quietly. “Are we good?”
The look in his eyes, hopeful and pleading, knocked the wind out of her. She could only nod, forcing the words past her throat. “We’re good. Goodnight, Murphy.”
She left with that crushing tightness still in her chest. She hated this.
41
MURPHY
It had been a week since the story dropped. After that last meeting with Hillary and Sasha, the team hit the road.
Murphy had braced himself for it, for the chirping on the ice, the smirks, even Sven’s big mouth making it worse. But Sven had been oddly quiet. Maybe being a new dad and Natalie were mellowing him out. Or maybe, for once, he just decided to let something go. Either way, Murphy was grateful.
So he kept his head down and played hard.
Murphy flopped back on the hotel bed. He was half-asleep himself when there was a knock on the door.
Conner leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets. “A couple of us are walking down to the beach. You in?”
Murphy shook his head. “Nah. I’m good.”
Conner’s brow furrowed. “You sure?”
Murphy let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You want to talk?” Conner asked.
Murphy nodded and headed back into his room. Conner stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and dropped into the armchair.
Murphy stared at the muted TV. “I don’t know, man. It’s just . . . a lot. All of it. The crap online, the constant eyes on me.” He huffed a laugh with no humor.
“You’ve had a wild PR ride this year,” Conner said.
“You have no idea.”
Murphy almost said more. Almost told him about Hillary. About the way she hadn’t said a word to him since leaving his house that night, how much it stung. But that wasn’t his to share. Still, the weight of it all left a bitter edge in his chest.
Conner leaned forward. “Look, we don’t have to solve it tonight. You want to hang here? Order some food, put a game on?”
Murphy blinked at him, surprised by the offer. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”
They ended up sprawled in front of the TV with burgers and fries, the Boston-Toranto game filling the silence. Conner didn’t push, just let the easy camaraderie take the edge off.
By the time Murphy crawled into bed, the knot in his chest had loosened. And that was enough.
They had just pulledout a win on the last game of the road trip. The locker room was buzzing, victory laughter bouncing off the cinderblock walls, but Murphy lingered, moving slower than usual. Most of the guys were already showered, dressed, and halfway to the bus by the time he got his bag slung over his shoulder.
Beating Boston felt different. The crowd, the noise, the history, it all felt bigger here. And yeah, he should be riding that high. But the second he spotted Hillary standing near Sasha at the tunnel tablet in hand, every bit of that joy twisted in his chest.
