Page 146 of Second-Rate Superstar

“No.” She shook her head. “Prepare yourself for a lifetime of grand gestures because I’m never letting you go, no matter what.”

“Hey.” I smiled. “That’s my line.”

“It’s our line now.”

Then she pulled me down for a kiss, and we had to make a call down to the front desk to beg for a late check-out.

Returning to Minnesota after exit interviews and locker cleanout in Indy, I had the chance to sit down and talk to Jaxon. If we were really going for a fresh start, it wasn’t only my dad that I needed to share my feelings with.

As expected, Jaxon felt terrible about being the root cause of my pain. It also provided a bonding opportunity for us, as he shared that Dad had been harsh on him growing up as well. I’d missed most of that because he was out of the house so young. Jaxon explained it was different for him. Hewasn’t held to an unreasonable expectation. Instead, he was expected tobethe standard, not just on the ice but off it. He wasn’t allowed to make mistakes.

He told me how Dad completely lost it on him when he found out Jaxon had gotten Natalie pregnant, dictating how he was going to handle that situation. Not before telling him that he’d made a colossal mistake and should have known better than to knock up some random woman who was going to take him for all he was worth.

We both knew how very wrong that assumption had been. Natalie was wealthy on her own and spent the better part of her pregnancy with Charlie, pushing Jaxon away. She wasn’t looking to hook a hockey player. Honestly, after a messy divorce, she wasn’t looking to tie herself to any man.

Dakota was right. Getting how I felt off my chest had me standing a little taller. And it allowed me to connect with my brother in a way I never thought we would. It was a shame we wouldn’t get to spend much time together anymore, being on separate teams.

On our last day in Minnesota, we stopped at my parents’ house before I returned to Indianapolis and Dakota went home to Hartford.

Dragging my feet—literally—Dakota had to tug me toward the front door, knocking on it when I refused. I had zero expectations that I would leave this house with the closure she was so hopeful for.

Mom opened the door, and her eyes widened. “Braxton!”

When she stood there, unsure of how to react, I pulled her into a hug. “Hey, Mom.”

Her arms tightened around me. We’d always been close, and I knew I would have to apologize for keeping her at arm’s length because I couldn’t stand to be near Dad recently.

Tears swam in her whiskey eyes when we separated, and her gaze slid to Dakota. “I see you’ve brought your friend.”

It was just like Mom to pretend that Natalie hadn’t told her all about my relationship with Dakota or that Dakota hadn’t already given her a piece of her mind at Christmas. Looping my arm around the waist of the woman I loved, I said, “Much more than a friend, but I think you already know that.” Mom cracked a tiny smile, confirming that she did. “Mom, this is Dakota, my girlfriend.”

Nothing if not polite, Mom reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Dakota.”

Dakota let out a tiny huff but shook Mom’s hand. “Nice to see you again, Shannon.”

“Yes, well.” Mom smoothed both hands along her thighs nervously. “Hopefully, today is more of a relaxed social visit.”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Dakota muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Mom looked at her curiously.

Clearing my throat, I drew her attention back to me. “I came to talk to Dad.”

“Oh dear.” Mom placed a hand to the side of her face. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No, but I need to do it anyway.” Dakota gave me a reassuring squeeze from the side.

“Well, come on in. Can I get you anything to drink first?” She moved aside to allow us entry.

“No, thank you,” Dakota said.

“Not sure you have anything strong enough,” I mused.

“Your father is in the basement,” Mom explained. “Dakota, if you’d like to wait up here with me, maybe we can get to know each other a little better.”

“I’m staying with Braxton,” Dakota declared, daring my mom to challenge her.

Instead, Mom gave a little nod, a silent show of respect. It piqued my curiosity about how their chat at Christmas had gone down. Mom was a strong woman herself, so for her to openly accept that my girl could hold her own against Michael Slate himself spoke volumes.

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