Chapter 39 Murphy
MURPHY
Rain streaked down the café window, blurring the streetlights into watery smears of yellow and white. Murphy sat hunched over his empty coffee cup, tracing the rim with one finger, watching the drops race each other down the glass.
Murphy sat there, lost in thought. He had every intention of asking Natalie out tonight.
When Alice had invited him to an escape room for Taylor’s birthday and mentioned that Natalie would be there, it seemed like a good time to get to know her a little before asking her out, but then it turned into a giant shitshow.
In fact, for a few minutes there, he had thought Sven was going to fight him over Natalie, who he wasn’t even on a real date with.
The barista called out the closing announcement, her tired voice bouncing across the quiet shop. Chairs scraped, coats rustled, and a couple at the corner table gathered their things. Murphy stayed a beat longer, dragging his feet, before finally pushing back his chair.
He shrugged into his jacket, the fabric cool against his skin, and slung his hood up before stepping outside. The rain had softened into a steady drizzle, enough to soak him if he lingered. He jogged across the slick sidewalk, avoiding a shallow puddle, and climbed into his car.
The quiet wrapped around him as he sat behind the wheel, breath fogging faintly in the chill.
But the whole evening had been nothing but proof. Proof that Natalie had a thing for Sven. Proof that Sven had a thing for Natalie. Proof that he wasn’t even a little ready to date anyone.
So here he was, soaked and restless, the ache in his chest sharper than he wanted to admit. Hillary had pushed him toward Natalie like it would fix everything. Like it would make him forget.
He turned the key, the engine rumbling to life, and steered toward home. His condo would be dark and quiet, just him and the puppy waiting inside. Maybe that was all he deserved.
But the moment his door swung open, that heaviness cracked.
A blur of golden fur barreled toward him, tail wagging hard enough to rattle the floor lamp.
“Hey, Finn,” Murphy breathed, dropping to his knees. The dog wiggled against his chest, licking rain from his cheeks, as if the world wasn’t crumbling outside this apartment.
“Miss me, huh?” Murphy asked, scratching behind Finn’s ears. His grin came easier than it had all night. “Yeah, I missed you too.”
Maybe he was nursing a broken heart. Maybe Hillary had slammed her walls shut again. But at least he had this. This ridiculous, joyful puppy who didn’t care about PR strategies or internet comments or whether he was “too good” for anyone.
Finn yipped, nose nudging toward the leash hanging by the door.
Murphy sighed, grabbing it with a laugh. “Alright, buddy. Let’s go.”
—
The next morning Murphy woke to the smalling whine and scratching at his door.
Pulling a hoodie over his head, he clipped the harness onto Finn and grabbed the leash. The air carried a hint of spring, even though it was still technically winter, and Murphy breathed it in like medicine.
By the time they reached the dog park, Finn was vibrating with excitement. The second Murphy unhooked the leash, the pup bolted toward the grassy space, ears flopping.
“Finn! Take it easy!” Murphy called, though he was grinning.
A familiar laugh carried across the park. Murphy turned to see Ethan Yellowtail leaning against the fence, Ernie stretched out at his feet like he owned the place.
“Well, well,” Ethan said, shading his eyes with one hand. “Looks like you finally got yourself a dog.”
Murphy walked over, still grinning. “Yeah. Meet Finn.”
The puppies wasted no time, Finn bounding up and Ernie immediately tackling him in a happy, clumsy heap. The two of them rolled in the grass, tails wagging furiously.
“They’re gonna be trouble together,” Ethan said.
“Good kind of trouble,” Murphy said, watching Finn dart after Ernie with pure joy.
They stood there for a while, talking about the dogs, about training, even about the schedule ahead. The sun warmed his shoulders, the laughter came easy, and the tightness that had wrapped around his chest last night began to loosen.
It wasn’t everything. Hillary was still a ghost in the back of his mind. But with Finn tumbling across the grass and Ethan’s steady presence beside him, it was something. A little light in the middle of all the dark.
Murphy woke the next morning with Finn’s warm weight pressed against his side, the little puppy snoring softly. He scratched behind Finn’s ears, letting himself breathe into the simple joy of it for a few extra minutes before getting ready.
He decided he was going to try to put Hillary out of his head. If she didn’t want him in the way he wanted her, he had to respect that. She’d made her choice.
Still, when he walked into the coffee shop, his chest tightened. His feet carried him to the counter out of habit.
“Vanilla latte with an extra shot,” he ordered, sliding a bill across, before quickly adding, “and a lemon blueberry muffin.”
After making his way to the center, Murphy nudged Hillary’s office door open with his elbow, balancing the coffee and muffin in his hands. She looked up from her laptop, all business as always.
“Morning, Boss.” He set them down carefully in front of her.
She gave him a polite smile. “Thank you.”
That smile used to light him up inside. Now it felt measured. Like she was holding something back.
He shoved a hand into his pocket, nerves chewing at him. “So, uh. Just wanted to let you know . . . Natalie’s not interested. Looks like she’s got a thing going with Sven.” He forced a little laugh, but it came out flat. “Anyway, it’s fine. I got the message.”
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 ask What 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—whatever that had 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 just skate 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.