Page 142 of Second-Rate Superstar

Leaning against the wall, dressed in tight jeans, a loose red shirt, and a black leather jacket, stood Dakota.

Because today wasn’t bad enough.

Not bothering to stop my trek down the hall, I sighed as I passed her. “I can’t do this right now.”

“It’s important,” she called to my back.

Spinning around, there was only one logical conclusion as to why she’d shown up after all this time. “Are you pregnant?”

Her eyes widened, and a hand dropped to her stomach. I squinted with tired eyes, trying to see if I could make out a bump beneath the flowy top she wore. It had been almost four months since we’d last been together. I wasn’t a pregnancy pro like my brother and didn’t know how much a woman showed at that stage. But I knew one thing for certain—I would be demanding a paternity test.

“No.” Dakota shook her head.

Relief washed over me, and my knees nearly buckled with the force of it. “Then we have nothing to talk about.” Ready to close that chapter of my life for good, I turned away from her once more.

“You promised you’d never let me go.”

Whipping around, I snapped, “That was before you ripped my fucking heart out!”

She flinched, and a security guard heard my outburst, walking over to ask, “Is everything okay over here?”

He waited for Dakota’s reply because I was the one who had been screaming. She gave him a small smile. “Everything’s fine.” She trained her eyes on me. “Isn’t that right, Braxton?”

My eyes closed at hearing her say my name aloud for the first time in months. That stab of pain told me my heart was still beating inside my chest. I wished with all my might it wasn’t. It hurt too much, seeing her face, hearing her voice—reminding me of all we used to have.

The guard hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “Okay. I’ll be right over there if you need anything.”

I had two choices. Walk away or let her say whatever she came to say. I was leaning toward option one, but I had a feeling if I didn’t let her get it off her chest, she would keep showing up until I did.

A sigh shook my body. “Fine. Spit it out, Dakota. Why are you here?”

“I wanted a chance to explain.” She moved closer, peering up at me with sad eyes that likely matched my own.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses.” I couldn’t keep the bite from my tone.

“I don’t have any excuses. I realize now what I did was wrong.”

I scoffed. “Took you this long?”

She narrowed those pretty eyes at me, and I knew the sass was incoming. “Well,someonerefused to take my calls, then blocked my number. Oh, and that was allafterhe fled the state.”

“You used me,” I accused. She wasn’t the victim here.

Eyes full of sincerity, she replied, “For that, I am truly sorry.” Her voice softened, and she added, “But it wasn’t done on purpose.”

I wanted so badly to believe her. To wipe the past few months of pain off the record books and pick up where we left off. But life didn’t work that way. You couldn’t snap your fingers and forgive someone for a betrayal that cut you to the core, whether intentional or not.

She took two more steps which placed her directly before me. Dakota was now so close I could smell the floral scent of her shampoo.

I leaned my shoulder against the concrete wall. There had been a reason I’d never wanted to see her again. It was too difficult to look her in the eye, to hear her words of apology, and not want to pull her into my arms and pretend our time apart had all been a bad dream. When in reality, it was a living nightmare. Every day, I suffered. Even though I tried to hate her, I couldn’t stop loving her, which made it hurt even more. I couldn’t let go of the woman who had manipulated me to further her own career.

“I need to know why.” At the very least, she owed me that.

Dakota ducked her head. “That’s fair.” Sapphire eyes meeting mine, she began, “Your story struck a chord with me. It rolled around in my brain until I had no choice but to let it out. And when it intertwined with the love we developed for each other, it seemed almost too beautiful not to share.” She sighed. “But I absolutely should have asked you first. You were right. It was your private struggle, and it wasn’t my place to share it without your consent.”

She was saying all the right things, but I wasn’t sure it would ever be enough. The trust between us had been broken,maybe irrevocably so.

“I wanted to humanize players to the world; well, at least those who dabble in fiction surrounding players. Every hockey romance I’ve picked up has a strong hero who thinks he’s God’s gift to hockey and women should fall at his feet. And yes, I know there are athletes like that. I’ve met them. But you were so far from that, and I needed women to know that fame and fortune sometimes come with strings attached. That signing a professional contract doesn’t always translate into a perfect life. That you’re real people with the same issues as everyone else. You might hide it better, but more of you than we realize fear failure or are struggling under the weight of unrealistic expectations—even if those come from an internal source versus an external.”

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