Chapter 51 Hillary
HILLARY
Hillary stretched, reaching for the warmth she expected to find beside her, only to meet cool sheets. Her eyes flew open. Empty.
She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand, squinting at the time: after nine. Shit. She never slept this late. A notification blinked across her screen: a text from Sydney.
Hillary’s heart raced, but before she could overthink it, her fingers moved.
Hillary - Yes. I’m bringing someone.
The dots appeared instantly.
Sydney - Who?
She took a long, steadying breath, like she was about to step onto the ice herself, then typed one word.
Hillary - Murphy.
The reply came just as fast.
Sydney - WHAT?!
Hillary bit back a laugh, imagining Sydney’s face on the other end.
Hillary - I’ll explain at lunch. Promise.
Sliding out of bed, she padded barefoot down the hall, following the smell of butter and eggs. The sight that met her stopped her in her tracks.
Murphy stood at the stove in sweats and a t-shirt, spatula in hand, carefully folding an omelet. Finn lounged on the couch, his tail wagging lazily. The whole scene was so painfully domestic, so normal, it was like being enveloped in a warm blanket.
“Morning, Boss,” he said with a grin, glancing over his shoulder. “Hope you like mushrooms and spinach, because all I got. I could probably scrounge something else up, though.”
She leaned against the doorway, watching him, warmth creeping up her cheeks. “You’re making me breakfast?”
“Course I am,” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Her heart did a funny little flip.
Hillary stepped into the kitchen, unable to keep the smile from tugging at her lips. “So this is your strategy now? Lure me in with omelets?”
Murphy wiggled his eyebrows as he plated the food. “What can I say? My skills are versatile. I can score goals and make breakfast.”
She laughed, sliding onto a stool at the counter. “Wow. Truly a full package.”
He set a plate in front of her and leaned on the counter across from her, grinning. “Don’t forget excellent dog dad.”
As if on cue, Finn barked, tail thumping against her legs. Hillary reached down to scratch behind his ears. “You’re not wrong. He might be the real catch here.”
Murphy clutched his chest in mock offense. “Ouch. Using my own dog against me? Cold, Boss.”
She rolled her eyes, taking a bite of the omelet and immediately groaning. “Okay, fine. This is amazing. You win.”
His grin widened, satisfaction written all over his face. “Knew I would.”
They ate together, the conversation light and easy, about hockey, about Finn, about nothing at all. It felt delightfully simple.
When they’d finished, Murphy stretched, gathering their plates. “So, here’s my pitch. We take Finn to the park before lunch with your sister. Walk off breakfast, wear him out, maybe get some sun.”
She tilted her head at him, amused. “Wow. Look at you planning the day.”
“Gotta impress the boss,” he teased, reaching down to clip Finn’s leash.
And just like that, Hillary felt her chest loosen. For the first time in weeks, things felt delightfully easy.
It was a cool spring morning that made the air feel crisp instead of biting.
Hillary tugged her coat tighter as Murphy unclipped Finn’s leash.
The puppy bounded forward like he’d been set free after a life sentence, nose to the ground, tail wagging furiously as he inspected every corner of the park.
Murphy chuckled. “Guy’s got a checklist. Gotta sniff every blade of grass.”
Hillary smiled, leaning into him as they found a spot on a worn wooden bench. “He takes after you. Obsessive.”
He slung an arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer. “Obsessive? Please. I’m thorough.”
She laughed softly, relaxing against him. For a while, they just sat, watching Finn dart and zigzag across the park. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward; it was easy, companionable.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Murphy murmured after a beat.
She tilted her head to look up at him. “What does?”
“This. Just . . . us. Not worrying about anything else.” His thumb brushed along her shoulder absently, like he couldn’t help but touch her.
Her heart squeezed. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It does.”
He dipped his head, and she met him halfway. The kiss started soft, exploratory, but quickly deepened to her hands curling into his jacket and his arm tightening around her waist. For once, she let herself sink into it fully, no guilt, no walls.
When they finally pulled back, she pressed her forehead to his, both of them smiling, breathless.
And then—
“Bailey! Come here, girl!” a voice rang out across the park.
They both jerked upright, startled. Hillary’s eyes darted to the far path where another dog was bounding toward Finn and where a figure was standing, watching.
Her stomach dropped. They hadn’t even noticed someone else had come in.
The voice calling Bailey belonged to a middle-aged man in a Red Sox cap, holding a leash loosely at his side as his golden-brown mutt bounded toward Finn.
Murphy stood and waved like they’d been waiting for him. “Hey, man! Beautiful dog!”
The guy grinned. “Thanks. She’s a handful, but worth it.”
Finn and Bailey were already nose-to-nose, tails wagging in a blur before tearing off together across the grass.
Hillary stayed seated on the bench, tugging her scarf tighter, but Murphy—of course—went right over.
She watched him crouch down, scratch Bailey’s ears like they’d known each other for years, and start chatting with the older gentleman like they were old friends.
Within minutes, he had the man laughing about rookie hazing rituals and swapping dog food recommendations. Hillary finally wandered over, shaking her head when Murphy gestured her into the conversation.
By the time Finn flopped down in the dirt, panting happily, she found herself smiling too. Murphy had that effect. He drew people in like gravity, disarming and genuine.
Eventually, the man leashed Bailey again, giving them both a friendly wave. “Good luck with that pup. You’ll need it,” he joked.
“Thanks,” Murphy called back cheerfully, clipping Finn’s harness. “See you around.”
They started walking back toward his condo, shoulders brushing, Finn trotting ahead on his leash. It all felt so normal—domestic even—that it stole Hillary’s breath. A stolen moment in the sunshine, in the middle of everything else.
“Guess we better get ready for lunch,” Murphy said, glancing at her with that small, private smile that always undid her.
The little bistro was already buzzing when they arrived, the clatter of dishes and soft murmur of conversation swirling around them.
Hillary slid into a chair by the window, nerves making her foot tap beneath the table.
She smoothed her napkin into her lap, then picked up the silverware only to set it back down.
Murphy leaned back in his chair across from her, calm as ever, watching her with that steady gaze that always seemed to untangle her spirals. He reached across the table and stilled her restless hand, thumb brushing across her knuckles.
“You’re going to burn a hole straight through the floor with that leg,” he teased softly.
She shot him a look. “Easy for you to say. You’re not about to introduce your sister to . . . ” She waved a hand between them, heat blooming in her chest.
“You know I’ve met Sydney before, right?” he said under his breath, amusement flickering in his hazel eyes. “I survived that first interrogation. I can survive this one, too.”
Hillary huffed out a laugh she didn’t feel. “Not like this,” she muttered.
“Exactly like this,” he countered with quiet confidence. “It’s still me, it’s still her. The only difference is now I get to sit here as your boyfriend instead of the rookie trying not to screw up.”
And then Sydney spotted them. Her eyes went wide, her mouth fell open, and she started toward their table with all the force of a storm front rolling in.
Hillary kept her eyes on Sydney, bracing herself for the inevitable lecture.
Sydney didn’t say anything at first—she just slid into the chair across from Hillary with that knowing smile she’d been flashing since childhood, the one that said I see you even when you don’t want me to.
“Murphy, it’s nice to see you again,” Sydney said with a smile, reaching out to take his hand.
“Likewise,” he said with an easy confidence. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since the mess with Natalie and Sven. How have you been? How are rotations going?”
And just like that, they were talking and chatting about the hospital. Hillary bit back the smile that wanted to spread across her face at the sight of her two favorite people getting along.
Murphy excused himself for the restroom, leaving the sisters alone. Hillary fiddled with her water glass, waiting for the comments she’d rehearsed defensive answers for. Their age gap. The career risk. The bad idea.
But Sydney just leaned forward on her elbows, chin in her hands. “You’re glowing.”
Hillary blinked. “I’m what?”
“You’re glowing. You’re happy. And I haven’t seen you look like this in . . . God, forever.” Sydney’s eyes softened. “So don’t look at me like I’m about to scold you. I’m just glad you finally found someone who makes you this way.”
Hillary’s throat tightened, caught off guard. “You don’t think it’s weird?”
“Of course it’s weird. But it looks good on you.”
For once, Hillary had nothing to say. She just sat there, stunned, until Murphy returned to the table with that easy smile, the whole restaurant seeming to brighten with him.
The food arrived, and somehow the conversation flowed as easily as if the three of them had done this a hundred times.
Murphy leaned into it like it was second nature, joking with Sydney about the restaurant’s playlist, teasing Hillary about her obsessive order notes on her salad, and even showing Sydney a picture of Finn.
“You’re ridiculous,” Hillary muttered, though she was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.
“Oh my god, I love him,” she cooed at the cute dog on the phone. “But honestly, Murph, I think I love you too. You’re exactly what my sister needed.”
Hillary rolled her eyes, heat rushing to her cheeks. “Don’t encourage him.”
But Murphy only squeezed her hand under the table, and then, looking at Sydney, said with that disarming sincerity, “She’s exactly what I needed, too.”
The words weren’t for her, not directly, but they hit Hillary like a thunderclap all the same.
She looked between them. Her sister was already welcoming Murphy as if he’d always belonged, and Murphy, utterly at ease, like family was simply something he carried with him.
The evening found them tangled together on Murphy’s couch, Finn curled up like a cinnamon roll at their feet.
The lights were dim, the TV playing quietly in the background, though neither of them was really watching.
Hillary’s head rested against Murphy’s shoulder, his arm loose around her, his hand tracing idle circles on her arm.
But her mind wasn’t here. It was replaying lunch over and over. Sydney’s easy laugh, Murphy fitting in like he’d always been part of her world, the way it had all felt so natural. Too natural. Like a glimpse into a life she’d spent years convincing herself wasn’t for her.
She let herself imagine it, just for a second, Sunday lunches, family dinners, Finn under the table begging for scraps, Murphy leaning in to kiss her temple without thinking twice. It made her chest ache. How good it could be if she’d only stop pushing it away.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Murphy murmured, breaking into her thoughts. His voice was gentle but teasing, the kind of tone that told her he already knew she was spinning herself in circles.
Hillary blinked and lifted her head to look at him. “Just . . . thinking.”
“Dangerous,” he said, lips quirking, but his eyes searched hers like he was ready to pull every thought out if she’d let him.
Her heart squeezed. She’d never known someone who could see through her walls so easily and still want to stay.
Hillary shifted so she could see his face, her hand flattening against his chest where his heartbeat thudded steady and sure. She had run from so many moments like this, pulled away, convinced herself it was safer not to fall. But she wasn’t running now. She couldn’t.
“I need you to know something,” she whispered, her voice catching, but she didn’t look away.
“I’ve spent months trying to convince myself I don’t .
. . that this isn’t . . . that we’re not—” She broke off with a shaky laugh, brushing her thumb over his shirt.
“But I’m still scared I might mess it up.
But I really don’t want to. Not when being with you feels like breathing again. ”
Murphy’s smile spread, slow and sure, the kind that had undone her from the beginning. He cupped her face, his thumb swiping away the tear that slipped down. “Good,” he murmured, leaning in until his forehead touched hers. “Because I love you too. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Something broke open inside her at that. Not the shattering kind. No, this was the opposite. The pieces she’d been holding together so tightly finally slipped into place, whole, safe, loved. She let out a laugh and kissed him, pouring every ounce of her heart into it.
There was nothing left to hide.