He walked right past them, head down.
“Murphy,” Sasha called after him, her tone half-teasing, half-reminding. “Bus is the other way.”
“I’m not getting on the bus,” he muttered, already pulling his phone out to call an Uber.
“What do you mean you’re not getting on the bus?” Sasha pressed.
“I got tomorrow off,” he said, lifting his head just enough to meet her eyes. “Family day.”
Something flickered across Hillary’s face. Relief? Sadness? He didn’t know anymore and didn’t want to guess wrong again. So he didn’t look too long.
Minutes later, the Uber pulled up to a familiar street. A row of modest houses, the kind with front steps worn smooth by years of kids running up and down them, holiday lights still tangled around the railings even though Christmas was well over. His house.
He’d tried once to buy them something bigger, newer, shinier with his signing bonus, but his mom had just hugged him, kissed his cheek, and said,“This is our home. We don’t need anything else.”
The second he stepped through the door, the noise hit him: his sister yelling about a board game, his dad calling from the kitchen, his mom fussing over both of them.
And then came the hugs. His sister tackling him around the waist, his brother Patrick launching himself into his arms with pure joy, his mom cupping his face like he was still eight years old.
The stress, the headlines, and the tight ache in his chest all eased just a little under the weight of that love.
This was what he needed. A slice of normal.
42
HILLARY
The cold air of the rink hit her the second she stepped inside, sharp and biting, familiar in a way that settled into her bones. Hillary tugged her coat tighter around her and forced her steps to be steady. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She should have been back in New York, answering emails, doing literally anything else, but here she was.
She told herself it was about work. About optics. Even though she would never use the Special Olympics and Murphy’s family as optics, she just needed a reason to be here. That was all. She just needed to observe, maybe get a sense of what was really going on.
But if she was honest with herself, the truth was messier. She wasn’t okay. Not even close. She hadn’t been this off-balance in years. Hillary Lawson was supposed to have her shit together—always—and yet the guilt of what she’d done to Murphy ate at her every time she closed her eyes.
Her phone buzzed in her bag, a cheerful ping that felt jarringly out of place. Sydney.
Sydney - Hey, haven’t heard from you in a bit. You good?
Hillary typed back a quick lie.
Hillary - Fine. We’ll get dinner when I’m home
She shoved her phone deep into her purse before she could change her mind.
She scanned the lobby, noting the scuffed floors and the faded posters of teams long past. Then she made her way toward the stands, the sound of laughter and the scrape of skates on ice growing louder with every step.
And there he was.
Murphy. Out on the ice, grinning wide as he bent low to high-five a little boy before helping him adjust his helmet. Her chest tightened, that familiar ache sliding into place. He looked at home here, effortless, radiant in a way that had nothing to do with the spotlight and everything to do with who he was at his core.
God, she was in trouble.
She slipped into the back row of the bleachers, folding her coat around her like armor as the first group of skaters glided out. The crowd clapped for the figure skaters twirling through their routines. Hillary clapped politely, but her eyes kept straying.
To him.
When the open skate was over, Murphy sat a few rows down, flanked by two older people who had to be his parents. His mother leaned in close, saying something that made him laugh, while his father gave him a solid, affectionate clap on the shoulder. Warmth radiated from them, the kind of warmth you couldn’t fake. The kind you carried in your bones because it had always been there.
Then a teenage girl with Murphy’s same brown hair rolled her eyes in a way that screamed little sister. Murphy grinned, nudging her back until she smacked his bicep with a laugh. He only pulled her in tighter, ignoring her protests until she melted against him in a hug.
