Chapter 44 Hillary
HILLARY
SPRING
It had been a little over two weeks since that cold February in Boston, and while the warm spring air had made an appearance the last few days, the air in the rink stayed chilly. Murphy hadn’t spoken to her since.
It was for the best. It was what she wanted.
The center was buzzing, staff moving fast, the hum of a normal morning pulling her forward. She wove down the hall, heels clicking against the tile, the familiar rhythm almost grounding her.
Until she opened her office door.
The desk was bare.
No coffee. No muffin. No cheerful note written in Murphy’s handwriting.
Just how it’d been every day since they got back.
So why did it feel like someone had just reached into her chest and squeezed her heart until she couldn’t breathe?
Hillary shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, pressing her hand flat to her sternum. She forced in a breath, then another. She had work to do. That was steady, safe, controllable.
If she repeated that enough, maybe she’d start to believe it.
Hillary had somehow gotten through the day, hiding in her office as much as she could.
But tonight was a game night, and skipping it wasn’t an option.
Earlier in the week, the story about Sven becoming a single dad had dropped.
It had landed well—better than she’d dared hope—but it meant the spotlight on the organization was brighter than ever.
As head of PR, she needed to be there, needed to be seen.
No matter how much her brain felt fogged over, no matter how much her chest ached every time she thought of Murphy, this was her job.
Luckily, she had Sasha: sharp, capable, and always steady, at her side.
Hillary could lean on her tonight if she had to.
God, she hated how much she felt like she needed to.
She tugged her blazer tighter as she made her way through the arena corridors, the roar of the crowd already vibrating through the walls.
Normally, that sound lit her up inside, reminded her why she loved this job.
Tonight, it just reminded her how thin she felt, stretched too far in too many directions.
Still, she straightened her shoulders as she stepped into the depths of the arena. No one here could know she was unraveling. Not Sasha. Not the team. And certainly not Murphy.
The game clock ticked down into the top of the third when Sasha appeared at the back of the press box. Hillary caught the subtle tilt of her chin, the silent come here.
Hillary excused herself from the other media staffers and stepped into the hallway. “What’s up?” she asked, already reading the tension in Sasha’s shoulders.
Sasha shoved her phone into Hillary’s hands. “We’ve got a problem.”
Hillary scanned the headline. Her stomach dropped.
The article was plastered with Natalie’s name: Former Teacher Fired for Reading Inappropriate Books to Children.
The piece twisted what had really happened in Alabama, framing her as though she’d been reading sexually explicit material to kindergartners, conveniently omitting the truth that she’d been fired for reading a book about a little boy with two dads.
“Oh, fuck,” Hillary muttered, heat rising in her chest. To the public, Natalie wasn’t Sven’s nanny. To the public, she was now a disgraced teacher. And paired with Sven’s reputation as the team’s reformed playboy? A PR nightmare.
Sasha’s eyes searched hers, waiting.
Hillary straightened, that familiar steel sliding into place.
“Okay. We pull Sven from post-game interviews. No questions. Get Cash, Wes, and Conner lined up for media instead. We close the hallway, no press near the locker room. Not tonight. I’ll draft a statement in case we need it, but we stay quiet for now.
Control the message, protect Natalie and Sven. ”
Sasha nodded sharply. “Got it.”
They moved in unison, heels clicking against the concrete, already in damage-control mode. Hillary’s heart was still hammering, but for the first time all day, she wasn’t thinking about Murphy. She was thinking about the job—and she was damn good at her job.
Later that night, they all convened at Conner McPhee’s house to rally around Sven, Natalie, and little baby Winnie. This was going to be a shitstorm like they hadn’t weathered in a long time.
While they didn’t have any answers yet, they would get through this as a team.
That was one thing Hillary loved about doing PR for this organization.
It wasn’t some corporate hellscape only looking out for its last dollar.
The Magic organization was a family. All the way from the owners, to the players, to the Zamboni driver. They all rallied for each other.
The next day, they all met at Conner’s house and formulated a plan. If everything went according to schedule, if every angle landed the way they’d shaped it, the storm would pass.
While Hillary had assembled her team to deal with the PR, it seemed like the players were all rallying around Sven. Cash and Murphy were already over helping out, and she wouldn’t be surprised if more showed up to help throughout the day.
And Hillary had learned something else today, too. Murphy had been right about Natalie and Sven. She’d never seen this protective side of Sven before, never seen him so grounded, so steady. Being a father and being with Natalie suited him.
The late afternoon air was warm when she stepped outside. They had their plan, and they were working with the Roper Foundation on a dream PR piece.
She filled her lungs with the crisp spring air as she made her way to her car. Out on the edge of the drive, Murphy stood with Finn, waiting patiently as the puppy nosed around the patch of grass.
Their eyes caught. For a moment, neither spoke.
“How are you holding up?” he asked finally, his voice low but sincere.
“This is a mess,” she admitted, her laugh short and humorless. “I can’t believe I talked to Mr. Roper on the phone.”
Natalie wasn’t only a wrongly fired kindergarten teacher, she was also the granddaughter of a nationally beloved children’s tv show host. He was going to be a big part of the PR strategy to handle this mess.
“Is he really coming here?”
Hillary took a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, he’ll be here next week. I have a lot to do to pull this off.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding. “But you’ll figure it out. You always do. Just—” His gaze softened. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
Something in her chest loosened at the words. She smiled, small but real. “Thank you.”
She slid into her car, fingers tight on the steering wheel, but when she glanced up one more time Murphy was still standing there with Finn, watching her go.
And despite everything, despite the wreckage she’d made of this whole situation, he still made her smile.