Page 78 of Second-Rate Superstar

My old insecurities had my mind going down the rabbit hole. But my fears weren’t totally unfounded. It was exactly what my father had done.

Bristol didn’t seem to recognize anyone else, and no one caused a scene at her arrival, so hopefully, that meant we were in the clear and could enjoy our evening.

Nervously, I played with the hem of the oversized Comets jersey Braxton had had delivered to my house earlier that morning. The note said he wanted at least one person in attendance to be wearing aBraxtonSlate jersey. My heart hurt a little when I read it, and my mind flashed back to our conversation in the car after our first date when he’d confessed his belief that no one could see him past his brother. I didn’t believe that was true,but who was I to tell someone else their personal feelings weren’t valid? All I could do was support him in any way he needed—and tonight, that meant wearing his name and number on my back as I cheered him on, a single person in a crowd of thousands.

Grabbing my hand, Bristol tugged me to the high-top seating overlooking the empty ice. I climbed onto a barstool beside her, and she bounced in her seat. “I can’t believe you’re here! That we’rehere.” She gestured to the suite around us.

I rolled my eyes at her playfully, but she grabbed my hand. “Seriously, I’m proud of you, Dakota.”

Shrugging, I brushed her off. “It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You might not see it, but I do. In a few short months, you’ve transformed. It’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and you’re finally free. Free to be happy, free to chase your dreams, free to love. It’s a beautiful thing to watch your best friend fall in love.”

Balking, I protested. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh, come on,” she chided. “Three months ago, I wasn’t even allowed to watch sports when you were in the house unless I was in my room with the door closed and the volume turned down. I get it. It was triggering for you, and I respected that. But now? Look around. You’re not just attending a game; you’re sitting amongst the wives and girlfriends of the Connecticut Comets. Because you belong here. There’s a guy on that ice you care so deeply about that you’re willing to put your issues aside to be there forhim. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

I chewed on my lower lip. Bristol was right. My feelings for Braxton were strong—so strong I was scared to label them for fear of what that might mean for us. Had I bought into his vision of our future together? He saw it so clearly, believing with such conviction that I was his person. Could I behappy here? Sitting, perched high above ice level, watching him play a game, and getting a chance to live the life my mom always dreamed of?

Maybe, but I was still gun-shy.

If I fell and there was no safety net, then what? Would I become the same shattered woman I’d watched raise me? We were still in the glow of a new relationship. Dipping my toes in didn’t mean I was ready to dive in head first. Who knew what lurked beneath the murky waters of life?

No one has a crystal ball. It’s not called a leap of faith for nothing.

A cheer from the few people gathered in the stands drew attention away from my thoughts—a welcome distraction. Both teams skated onto the ice for what Bristol explained was their warm-up. The giant big screen hovering over center ice indicated that tonight’s opponent was the Denver Glaciers.

The teams were easy to tell apart as they glided over the smooth ice surface littered with pucks as they shot on their goalie or worked independently on stick-handling skills. The Comets were dressed in navy blue from head to toe; the only break in the solid color of their jerseys was the gray comet emblem on their chests, and their names and numbers stitched on their backs. The Glaciers were in white with pops of baby blue to complement their own logo.

Scanning the swirling mass of players on the Comets side, I searched for Braxton. Squinting, I tried to find his number eleven jersey, but the closer I looked, the more it seemed everyone was wearing the name Slate on their back, with the number twenty-three.

What in the world?

Confused, I asked Bristol, “Why are they all wearing Jaxon’s jersey.”

Tearing her gaze away from the ice, she raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“It’s Jaxon’s 1000thgame. It’s kind of a big deal.”

My heart sank.

Oh, Braxton.

No wonder he’d practically begged me to come tothisgame and why he’d made a point of saying he needed someone in the stands wearing his number. For him, every day was the Jaxon show, but today, everyone viewed it as such.

Braxton needed me here to know someone was there for him and not his brother. And he hadn’t told me because he didn’t want to make a big deal out of his insecurity.

Turning my head back to the teams warming up, with my chest tight, I caught motion out of the corner of my eye that had me doing a double take. Blinking to make sure I wasn’t imagining it, I leaned over to Bristol, whispering, “Is that one humping the ice?”

Trying and failing to hold back her laughter, she explained, “They’re stretching their hip flexors.”

“Their what?”

Smirking, she held up a hand, making sure I was tracking it as she opened her thighs and ran the hand over the crease where her inner thighs met her torso. My eyes widened at the intimate location.

“Wouldn’t want to pull a groin.” Bristol waggled her eyebrows. “That’ll throw them out of commission in more ways than one.”

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