Chapter 53 Hillary
HILLARY
The office was still hushed when Hillary slid into her chair, the city outside just beginning to stir.
She set her bag down, smoothed the front of her blazer, and reached for her laptop.
Another day, another string of meetings.
This one started earlier than usual, thanks to a brand deal call she couldn’t push off.
Her eyes landed on her desk.
Coffee. Her coffee.
Vanilla latte, extra shot. Still warm.
And next to it, a muffin tucked in a little paper bag, with Murphy’s familiar scrawl across a sticky note: Good luck in your meeting, Boss.
Her lips curved into a smile before she could stop them. She picked up the cup and took a long sip, letting the warmth spread through her chest.
It had been nearly a week of this. Two weeks of juggling late-night road games, travel, and the chaotic rhythm of playoff prep. Carolina, Florida, both back-to-backs. Florida, especially, was always brutal. Rivalry games had a way of cracking tempers wide open.
And yet, every night, no matter how late they got in, she found herself with Murphy.
In his condo with Finn snoring at their feet, or at her place with takeout containers on the counter.
It should have been exhausting. But somehow, it wasn’t.
Somehow, she woke up feeling lighter than she had in years.
She shook her head, smiling at the ridiculousness of it. She’d lived her whole life keeping her walls high, and now here she was softened, undone, all because of one relentlessly good man and his dog.
But the coffee helped, too.
By midmorning, Hillary had already powered through the brand deal meeting and two calls, but she couldn’t focus. Not really. The coffee sitting on her desk reminded her of Murphy. The texts saved in her drawer reminded her of Murphy. The entire last two weeks reminded her of Murphy.
She’d been hiding long enough.
With a deep breath, she tapped her desk phone.
“Sasha? Can you come by for a minute?”
Sasha popped her head in a few minutes later, tablet in hand. “What’s up?”
Hillary hesitated, heart hammering. Then she gestured for Sasha to sit.
“So there is something I have to tell you.” She said it so professionally, like she was about to tell Sasha about a work assignment.
“I am dating Murphy. We have been for a while, and after the season, I’m going to let HR know. I just wanted you to know first.”
There she’d said it. She’d told someone.
There was a beat of silence. Then Sasha gasped, clapped a hand over her mouth, and broke into the widest grin. “I knew it! I knew there was something going on between you two. God, Hillary, I should gloat, but—” she leaned across the desk, eyes sparkling, “—I’m just so happy for you.”
Hillary blinked, startled. “You’re happy?”
“Of course I’m happy! Murphy’s a golden retriever in hockey skates, and you . . . ” Sasha’s smile softened. “You deserve someone who looks at you the way he does. Honestly, it’s about time.”
Hillary let out a shaky laugh, the tension in her chest easing. She’d braced for judgment, for lectures about professionalism or their age gap. Instead, it was normal. Warm. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“So,” Sasha said, settling back in her chair with a grin, “tell me everything. How long? Where?”
Hillary couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. For the first time, it felt less like a secret and more like something real.
Sasha was still grinning, scrolling back on her tablet to pull up something when a knock sounded on the door.
Both women froze.
Hillary’s heart lurched, and then she heard the muffled, familiar voice:
“Hey, Boss, it’s me.”
Her pulse jumped. Murphy.
Sasha arched her brows and mouthed perfect timing before she scooted out of the chair and onto her feet. Hillary barely had a chance to answer before the door opened and Murphy stepped in.
He was dressed down in his team gear, hair a little damp, clearly freshly showered from lifting or drills. He had her coffee order in one hand, a brown paper bag in the other. But his usual easy grin wasn’t quite there. It was more cautious, like he wasn’t sure how welcome he’d be.
“Got a few minutes before special teams,” he said, voice casual, but his eyes flicked between her and Sasha, wary. “Thought I’d stop by.”
Hillary stood, smoothing her skirt like that would help hide the way her cheeks were heating. “Of course.”
Sasha gave Murphy a once-over that was far too knowing and then, with a little clap of her hands, said, “Well, I’ll leave you two. Hillary and I were just finishing up.”
She breezed past him, tossing Hillary a conspiratorial smile.
That left Murphy standing there, shifting the bag to his other hand. “Did I… interrupt something?”
“No,” Hillary said quickly, stepping forward to take the coffee from him. “Not at all. Perfect timing, actually.”
He tilted his head, studying her, as though he could sense something had shifted but didn’t know what.
And maybe he was right. Because for the first time, she wasn’t carrying this secret alone.
Sasha was still hovering near the door, that grin plastered across her face. Murphy glanced between the two women, clearly confused.
Hillary sighed, deciding to just rip off the band-aid.
“I told her,” she said.
Murphy’s brow furrowed for half a second, then his whole face lit up. The grin spread wide, boyish and unrestrained. “You did?”
“Mhmm,” Sasha confirmed, practically bouncing. “So how long?”
Murphy didn’t hesitate. “Since the gala.”
“What?!” Sasha yelped way too loudly.
The sound carried down the hall, because a second later the door creaked open again, and Conner leaned in. “What’s going on in here?”
Hillary froze, bracing for the panic. For this to blow up.
But Murphy just turned toward his teammate, still grinning. “Hillary and I. We’re together.”
Conner blinked. Once. Twice. His eyes cut from Murphy to Hillary and back again.
“You’re serious?” he asked, voice edged with disbelief.
“Dead serious,” Murphy said, still grinning like he’d just scored a game-winner.
Connor’s expression shifted—confusion first, then something softer. Supportive. “Well… okay then,” he said slowly, like he was sorting through it in real time. “I mean, it’s surprising, but you’re both adults. And if it makes you happy, that’s all that matters.”
Sasha practically squealed, clapping her hands together. “See? I knew it! I knew it!” She was practically vibrating with glee. “This is so much better than any scandal headline.”
Conner chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, let’s keep it that way.”
“Deal,” Hillary managed, her cheeks warm.
Sasha looped her arm through Conner’s, already tugging him toward the door. “Come on, I think we just became the first official keepers of this secret.”
“Uh, yeah,” Connor muttered, still looking a little dazed but not upset. “Guess we did.”
The door shut behind them, leaving Hillary and Murphy alone in the sudden quiet.
Murphy turned to her, his grin softening into something warmer. “Told you it’d be okay.”
And for once, she didn’t feel panic rising in her chest. She felt safe.
The door shut behind Sasha and Conner, leaving the office quiet except for the faint hum of the building around them. Hillary let out a shaky exhale, shoulders slumping.
Murphy leaned against the edge of her desk, arms crossed, grin stretching across his face. “So,” he drawled, tilting his head, “how do you feel? Survived your first confession?”
She gave him a look, somewhere between exasperated and fond. “It was harder than you think.”
“Oh, I know.” His grin only widened. “But you did it.” He straightened, taking a step closer, the playful spark in his eyes softening. “And I’m proud of you.”
Before she could reply, he dipped down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was slow but full of promise. Hillary melted into it, the tension in her chest finally loosening as his mouth lingered against hers.
When they pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers, and he whispered, still smiling, “See? Not so bad.”
And for the first time, she believed him.
Murphy tugged open her desk drawer like he’d done it a hundred times before, pulled out one of the protein bars she kept stashed there, and plopped down in the chair across from her desk.
He tore the wrapper with his teeth, chewed, then leaned back like he had all the time in the world, even though she knew he probably had five minutes before he needed to be on the ice.
“I just got off the phone with my mom,” he said around a swallow. “Patrick still hasn’t been released from the hospital.”
Hillary froze, her pen pausing halfway to a note she hadn’t been writing anyway.
Murphy shrugged, trying for casual, but his foot bounced restlessly under the desk. “Mom says everything’s fine. They’re just being cautious. He’s doing better, but . . . ” His voice trailed off, and for the first time, she saw it. There was worry underneath that steady smile he always wore.
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, sighing. “I don’t know. I just thought he’d be home by now. I hate not being there.”
Her chest tightened. She wanted to reach across the desk, to hold his hand, to tell him he wasn’t carrying this alone anymore. But she stayed still, watching the way his eyes flicked down to the wrapper in his hands, his thumb worrying the folded edge.
“I know my mom,” he added softly. “She’d never tell me if something was wrong, not until she had to. And I trust her, but still . . . It's Patrick.”
The way he said his brother’s name—so full of love and worry—broke something open in her.
“Murphy.” Her voice was gentle, softer than she meant it to be. “Your mom would tell you if it were serious. And Patrick, he’s stronger than anyone gives him credit for. You’ve said it yourself. They’re taking good care of him, and he’s lucky to have you checking in every day.”
He looked up at her, eyes still shadowed, and something inside her cracked wide open. She pushed her chair back and stood, the words not enough. Crossing around the desk, she laid a hand on his shoulder.
The second she touched him, his hand came up and covered hers, holding it there. Then, without thinking twice, he tugged her down onto his lap.
She let out a startled breath, but the moment his arm wrapped around her waist, the tension in both of them eased.
“Murph . . . ” she murmured, not sure what she meant to say.
He rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes like he could let himself breathe for the first time that day. “I just needed this,” he admitted quietly.
Her heart swelled and ached all at once. She threaded her fingers into his hair and whispered back, “Me too.”
For a few long minutes, they just stayed there, her head on his shoulder, his heartbeat steady against her palm, both of them holding on like the world outside the office didn’t exist.
Murphy’s hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she tipped her chin to meet his mouth.
The kiss was slow, a press of lips that deepened as his thumb traced the line of her jaw.
Her fingers curled into the front of his hoodie, anchoring herself as his mouth moved against hers, coaxing, teasing, until all the air seemed to leave her lungs.
In the moment, it was easy to forget the office, the meetings, the team. It was just him, his warmth, his strength, the steady beat of his heart under her palm.
She sighed into him, and his answering groan made her whole body shiver. His hand slid into her hair, tilting her head just so, deepening the kiss again until her mind went deliciously blank.
Then her phone buzzed on the desk, the sharp ding yanking her back. She pulled away, breathless and flushed, forehead resting against his.
Murphy chuckled softly, brushing his nose against hers. “Guess that’s our cue.”
“I hate whoever that is,” she muttered, already missing his mouth.
He smiled and gave her one more lingering kiss. “Me too. But I’ve got to get to practice anyway.”
When she reluctantly stood, he squeezed her hand and winked. “Don’t work too hard, boss.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and Hillary slumped back into her chair, lips tingling, heart racing, wondering how on earth she was supposed to focus on anything else.