Chapter 13 Murphy
MURPHY
The sharp scrape of skates on ice echoed in Murphy’s ears as he drove through another sprint during practice.
His lungs burned, his legs ached, but it felt good.
This was the work—pushing until he had nothing left to prove he belonged here.
Youngest on the team or not, he was determined to make every shift count.
"Hey, Rookie. Heads up," Niko said in his thick Russian accent as he sent a puck his way, expecting to catch him off guard.
Murphy had played on a line with him last year and was happy he’d been pulled up to the first line. He easily dodged the puck, but knocked it out of the air with his stick before hitting it into the net. "I'm not a fucking rookie anymore."
He headed into the locker room to change.
"Hey, don't let Niko get to you. He's just jealous you’re playing better than him. He'll pull his head out of his ass eventually," Conner said as he sat down next to him, taking off his skates.
"Thanks, man," Murphy said as he made his way to the shower.
Conner didn't pull any punches and held everyone to a high standard, but when it came down to it, he championed everyone on this team. That was the kind of player Murphy wanted to be.
By the time he was done in the shower and back in the locker room, the mood was upbeat, guys laughing and trading stories as they packed for their first long road trip of the season.
Murphy’s stomach hummed with anticipation.
Two games in Canada. Then a game in Seattle and L.A.
before they were back in Glendale. He was already running through plays in his mind as they headed to the bus.
He’d just stepped onto the first step when he spotted Hillary coming up behind Sasha, her bag slung over her shoulder.
She didn’t go on every road trip, which made seeing her here even better.
A flicker of curiosity ran through him about why she was here this time, but it was quickly overtaken by the grin stretching across his face.
“What’s with the dopey smile?” Sven muttered as he passed.
“Nothing,” Murphy said quickly, slipping in his earbuds to avoid further interrogation. He settled into a seat, keeping half an eye on Hillary as the bus pulled away, the quiet rumble of conversation and soft thump of music around him making her presence stand out even more.
The first game of the trip was done. Murphy loved road trips.
While there was nothing like playing for the home crowd, there was something about being the outsider that spurred him on.
He tended to feed off the pressure. He played his best on the road, but that didn’t seem to help them much tonight.
Sadly, tonight they lost. First loss of the season, and it stung.
The locker room was quieter than usual afterward, everyone eager to get back to the hotel and stew in private.
If they had won, the boys would be planning where they wanted to go for the night, although Murphy didn’t always join them, which tended to surprise people.
Being the youngest player on the team, people expected him to party and live it up with all the perks of being an up-and-coming NHL star, but that was never his speed.
On his way to the bus, he caught sight of Hillary standing outside, phone pressed to her ear, shoulders tight. The sight of her on the phone, pulling her thin excuse of a coat tighter around her shoulders in the cold Canadian air, didn’t sit right with him. She was shivering, and that wouldn’t do.
Without thinking, he walked over, shrugged off his own jacket, and draped it around her.
The instant chill on his arms was worth it.
Her head jerked up in surprise, eyes widening, but she was still mid-conversation.
For just a heartbeat, he caught a flash of a smile before she masked it.
He gave a small nod and turned back toward the bus.
As he climbed onto the bus, he took care to avoid Sven and Cash. Both of them were known for their foul moods after a loss, though Cash had been a little easier to deal with since getting a girlfriend.
The thought made Murphy’s chest tighten in a way he didn’t want to examine. No, thinking those thoughts right now was not going to help. He was respecting Hillary's wishes, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss her.
Yes, he missed the physical aspect of their relationship—the sex was truly incredible—but he just missed her.
It felt like the only time they had together anymore was their morning coffee at the center.
Those were the only moments he still got her stolen smiles.
He loved her softness, but he equally loved that she was a badass.
Hillary ran this place, and she did it like a fucking boss.
She was his ‘Boss’, and that thought was enough to bring on the melancholy.
Then he glanced toward the front of the bus, catching sight of Conner and Sasha talking quietly. Yeah. He wanted that. With Hillary. But she was still keeping him at arm’s length. Everything—the loss, but mostly just missing her—was weighing on him.
He slid into his seat and looked out the window, his eyes still drawn to her. Hillary was still on her call, but now she had his coat pulled snug around her. The bus hummed with low chatter and fatigue, but all he could focus on was her.
Then she lifted the collar, pressing it briefly to her nose. A quick smile lit up her face before she seemed to remember herself and smoothed it away.
Murphy leaned back, satisfaction curling in his chest.
Yeah. They weren’t over yet.