21. Dakota

"Your brother bakes." A giggle worked its way up my throat as I buried my face in Braxton's neck.

One of his hands glided lazily up and down my back, where I was curled into his side on the couch. "Yes, he does."

"No." My body shook with the effort it took to hold in laughter. "He really bakes. Like, from scratch."

Chuckling, Braxton plucked the glass of eggnog from my hand. "Okay, you're cut off."

"Party pooper," I whined, sticking my lip out in a pout.

Draining the rest of my drink, he licked his lower lip, causing me to shift in my seat. Braxton noticed my attention on his mouth and the physical response, and his eyes flared.

"Lush," he teased, voice husky.

"Who, me?"

His thumb caressed my cheek. "Oh yes, you."

I wasn't normally a big drinker, but he had a point. I had overindulged. The glass of eggnog he stole was my fourth that evening. I would prefer to blame losing myself in alcohol on the fact that I was awkwardly crashing this family's holiday, but if I was being honest, the root cause was Braxton's words from earlier. They had shifted my world on its axis.

For as long as I lived, I would never forget how he looked at me—the possession in his eyes—and the unwavering confidence with which he spoke.

It should terrify me that he knew exactly what he wanted for the rest of his life—a life he'd made no secret that I would have a starring role in. But for some reason, I found myself craving the picture he painted, the family he envisioned. Maybe it was because I didn't have that growing up—a family created because two people couldn't contain their love for each other.

A family like Jaxon and Natalie had.

I couldn't take my eyes off them this afternoon as I observed their holiday tradition of making homemade gingerbread houses, among other types of cookies. Each child had been involved in some way—minus Max, of course, asleep in his bassinet. Charlie held a perch on the kitchen island, taste-testing the dough whenever her mother's back was turned. Natalie had made it clear early on that the kids weren't to eat raw dough, and while Jaxon agreed with his wife, the defiant sparkle in his eyes told a different story. He and Charlie were in cahoots, and my heart warmed watching the love he had not only for his toddler daughter but for all the children.

The love of that family unit was nothing compared to Jaxon"s unfiltered adoration for his wife. It was as if he were magnetically drawn to her. Whenever she was within arm's reach, his touch was a certainty—whether it was a light graze of her shoulder, a hand to her lower back, or the hair brushed away from her face. But even when she was across the room, his eyes constantly flitted to her like she was a beacon. She commanded his attention by merely existing.

It was incredible to watch in person, and I understood why women lost their minds over fictional love. There was a hope that, one day, you might be of the receiving end of the kind of love Jaxon had for his wife. Until today, I hadn't believed such a thing existed.

Could it be as easy as they made it look?

For the first time in my life, I wanted to find out.

The credits rolled on the kids' holiday movie on the screen above the stone fireplace. That must have been some sort of signal for the Slate children because they immediately moved to huddle together at the base of the massive Christmas tree they had decorated mere hours ago.

Amelia took charge, handing wrapped boxes to her siblings before turning and handing identical ones to her parents. Returning to the tree, she grabbed two more, stopping before Braxton and me.

"Uncle Braxton." He accepted the gift with a smirk. "And one for you, Dakota."

"What's this?" I asked, taking the festively wrapped package she offered.

Peeking back at her parents, she smiled. "It's our holiday tradition for the whole family to wear matching pajamas for Christmas Eve. Something Mom started with us when we moved back to Connecticut."

I could barely move, barely breathe. Was this fresh-faced teenage girl implying that I was a member of this picture-perfect family?

"Oh, but I'm not . . ." The words died on my lips as emotion took over, and my throat closed up.

Braxton leaned in close, speaking low in my ear. "If it makes you feel any better, this is my first time being included. This used to be a sacred ritual reserved only for Nat and her girls. Plus Liam, of course."

That didn't help. It only meant this gesture was even more significant. Natalie's "family" was about so much more than blood. It was about connection, trust, and loving the people you chose to share your life with. I'd known them for two months. How could they have chosen me so easily when my own flesh and blood had discarded me without a second thought?

The clash of emotions became too much, and my vision blurred. When the first hot tear slipped down my cheek, embarrassment hit me with the force of a freight train, and instinctively, I buried my face in Braxton's chest. In such a short time, he had become my safe space.

Arms locked around me, holding me tight as sobs racked my chest. A hand stroked over my hair as his soft words murmured in my ear. "It's okay, Firefly. I've got you. Let it all out."

Faintly, I heard the timid voice of the teenage girl standing above us. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset her."

Braxton was quick to set his niece's mind at ease. "You did nothing wrong, sweetheart."

Natalie spoke, though I could barely hear her as my ears became congested by the constant sniffling. "All right, kids. Let's get ready for bed. Santa won't come if you're still awake."

There was the distant shuffling of feet before stomping sounded on the stairs.

Burrowing deeper into Braxton's embrace, I was vaguely aware when he shifted us enough that he could stand, with me still held in his arms. Before long, I was surrounded by the softness and comfort of what felt like a bed. My eyes were shut tight, not ready to face the demons of my past, combined with the realities of the unexpected present.

Soft lips brushed against my forehead as Braxton whispered, "Rest, sweetheart."

Those words were simple and few but brought so much comfort. Braxton never pushed, never expected me to put on a brave face, and never wanted me to be anything other than myself. He was there for me no matter what, and I found I was beginning to rely on it.

A warmth settled over my body at the thought of having one person always in my corner. I hadn't had that in years, not since my mom passed. Knowing she would adore how Braxton cared for me was what allowed my body to relax enough to fall asleep.

Groaning, I gripped the side of my head where it threatened to explode. Instantly, I was reminded of why I didn't drink often. The aftermath wasn't worth it.

A gentle knock sounded on the door, but it seemed more like an exaggerated banging in my hungover state.

"Go away," I mumbled into the bedding.

A piercing stream of light filtered into the room, and I buried my face deeper into my pillow, eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

"Merry Christmas, Firefly." Braxton's soft voice soothed the pounding in my head somewhat, and I forced myself to roll over and crack an eye open. A smile curved on his lips. "There she is."

He was simply too beautiful not to look at, and I forced my other eye open to devour the handsome man who was somehow wholly enamored with me. It almost didn't seem real.

"Merry Christmas," I croaked out. Shit, my throat was so dry, and my mouth felt like cotton.

Stepping further into the room, he leaned a hip against the dresser. "What'll it be this morning? Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?"

"Will you judge me if I ask for hot chocolate with a side of painkillers?" My fingers pressed into my temple.

Braxton chuckled, sipping his drink of choice from a mug held in his hands. "Had yourself a night, didn't you?"

Covering my face with both hands, I let out a groan. "Did I really cry over pajamas?"

The bed dipped beside me, and Braxton peeled my hands away. "It was cute." Humor sparkled in the depth of his whiskey-colored eyes.

Sitting up against the headboard, I spied the still-wrapped box on the nightstand. "It's just . . ." I sighed.

Braxton squeezed my hand. "It's okay. I know this is a lot."

Squeezing back, I explained, "I didn't have this. The family, the warmth, the love."

Leaning in, he brushed a light kiss against my lips. "You do now. My family is your family."

I scoffed. "I'm sure they're thinking you've picked a real winner. The girl who freaks out at every family holiday event."

Setting down his mug on the nightstand, Braxton pulled me into his arms. "Not a single one of us is perfect." He let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Well, except maybe Jaxon."

My own laugh was muffled against his chest. Pulling back, I eyed his pajama set. It featured cream flannel pants threaded with red and green plaid, paired with a red henley.

I plucked at the fabric covering his shoulder. "So, this is what we're working with?"

Eyes holding mine, his tone was sincere. "You don't have to wear yours."

Shaking my head, I took a deep breath. "No, I want to. They made an effort to include me. It's the least I can do. It's just pajamas, right?"

But we both knew it was so much more. It was my acceptance that this family was claiming me as one of their own.

Until last night, I hadn't realized how much I longed for someone to choose me. I'd spent so many years with a chip on my shoulder, guarded so no one could ever hurt me again. But under that angry girl was a hurt one who just wanted someone to love her without conditions.

Standing, Braxton bent down for a slow kiss, and I could feel how much he cared about me. He might not have said it, probably for fear of another freak-out, but there was no denying the man was in love with me.

Breaking the connection between our lips, he pressed his forehead to mine. "Get changed. I'll see you out there."

"Uh-huh." That kiss had stolen my breath away. If I was honest with myself, I was falling headfirst for him, too. It was happening so fast, but I knew we couldn't stop it. Our hearts were on a collision course, so what did it matter if it happened after two months or twelve?

The door quietly latched, and I reached for the package containing the matching pajamas. Unwrapping it carefully to avoid making a mess, I lifted the lid of the white box I'd uncovered. Pulling out the garments inside, my eyes widened. This was not the same as the ones Braxton wore.

First, instead of a long pair of flannel pants, there were shorts in the same fabric. But it was the top that stopped me in my tracks. Instead of a thick thermal henley, my red top was a thinner material and was way too short. Standing, I held it against my chest, revealing it was a crop top. They couldn't possibly expect me to walk around in front of their children showing so much skin. And that also begged the question, did the other girls have the same set?

Nervously, I changed into the pajamas but grabbed my Comets hoodie, holding it in front of my body like a shield as I poked my nose around the corner of my bedroom and into the kitchen.

Natalie was perched on the kitchen island, watching Jaxon and the kids flip pancakes. Sure enough, she was dressed in the same set as me. Tossing my sweatshirt behind me into my room, I walked toward the happy family. If Natalie was comfortable enough to wear a crop top after birthing five kids—one barely two months ago—then who was I to act prudish?

Braxton's eyes lit up as he scanned me from head to toe. I blushed but continued walking toward where he stood, offering me a mug.

Eyes darkening like we weren't in a room with children mere feet away, he whispered, "You look good enough to eat."

The warm ceramic in my hands wasn't the only thing heating my blood. Reminded that we weren't alone, I brought the cup to my lips, even as my eyes remained on Braxton.

I let out a tiny moan as the sugary concoction flowed over my tongue with the first sip. "Oh God, that's good."

"Made it myself." Braxton shot me a smug look.

I nudged his chest with my shoulder, not wanting to spill a drop of the heaven held in my hands. "Stop it. No, you didn't."

Leaning in, he whispered, "Jaxon may have baking on lock in this family, but yours truly holds the top spot as the barista."

Shocked, I took a tiny step back. "You are just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Spinning me so that my back was to his front, Braxton caged me against the island from behind. With his mouth beside my ear, he spoke. "I would happily spend the rest of my life surprising you." If those words weren't enough, he kissed the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder, and goosebumps broke out across my skin.

There was no doubt Braxton wanted every piece of me. And I knew he was waiting for me to set the pace. Every day—hell, every minute—saw me moving closer and closer to giving him everything. I wanted him to be my first, and if he had his way, we'd be each other's last.

The only question remaining was when.

Before I could ponder that thought much further, Beau noticed us standing there. Jumping in excitement, he screamed, "We can open presents now!"

Realization dawned that they'd been waiting for me. I elbowed Braxton behind me discreetly.

"You didn't have to wait for me," I told Natalie.

Smiling warmly, she waved a hand. "Nonsense. We need the whole family for that."

My chest tightened, and I tried to fight back the tears for the second time in twelve hours. Nodding, I forced the words out around the lump in my throat. "Thank you."

Empathy shone through her brown gaze, and I couldn't shake the feeling that she knew some of what I was dealing with. But that didn't make any sense. This woman had an incredible family—not just the one she'd created by having children with a man who adored her, but one she chose with her closest friends. What could she possibly know about struggling to be accepted into a loving family?

Turning to her son, she tousled his dark mop of hair. "Breakfast first. Then presents."

Beau whined alongside Charlie, but the older kids ushered them to the giant oak kitchen table. There was such a wide age range between Natalie and Jaxon's children, which made sense given her two marriages, but it made me wonder about the large gap between Braxton and his brother, seeing as it was only the two of them.

Natalie and Braxton went to the table and sat with the raucous crew. It was chaos as everyone reached to fill their plates simultaneously. I hung back, watching, wondering if this could be my future.

Did Braxton want a large family? More importantly, did I?

I hadn't given it much thought before now, but being an only child was lonely, and in that split second, I decided that if I—or we—had kids, I wanted more than one. I wanted them to have a tight relationship, like I could tell Amelia and Jameson had, being so close in age. I knew that wasn't a guarantee. Obviously, some siblings hated each other, and the Slate boys' relationship was far from perfect, but they'd always have each other, no matter what.

Unsure of how long I spent staring, Jaxon's voice startled me. "It was hard for her too."

"What?" My head whipped around in time to see him nod toward his wife, who was busy helping Charlie cut up pancakes.

"Being part of a family." He must have seen the skepticism in my eyes because he explained, "Her parents practically forced her into her first marriage. They didn't care more about her than they did themselves. They sacrificed their only daughter to a man who has now been medically deemed a psychopath."

I gaped at Braxton's brother. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "Like you, she had an emotional breakdown when she realized unconditional love not only exists but that she could receive it from people who barely knew her. It took her a long time to accept feeling worthy of that love." Jaxon smiled lovingly at his wife. "But once she did? The transformation was incredible. I've loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her. Scratch that, from the moment I heard her laughter, not having seen her face. But the woman she's become being truly loved, that was worth the fight. I can tell my brother feels the same way about you. And if I know him, he will stand by your side patiently until you're ready to take that leap alongside him."

Did this kind of wisdom come from age? Becoming a parent? Or possibly from having walked through the same fire? Whatever it was, Jaxon understood not only what I was feeling but how his brother was responding. It was mildly unsettling how easily he read us.

Before I had time to let everything Jaxon said sink in, he added, "I know it's sudden, but you became family the day Braxton brought you with him to the hospital. He doesn't date." He paused. "Well, hasn't for a long time. The fact that he's let you in? It speaks volumes. Braxton doesn't do half-measures. He's either all in, or he doesn't bother. I knew my brother was all in with you the day Max was born. But it's okay if you need more time to realize it. He's not going anywhere. And neither are we."

Jaxon looped his arm around my shoulder and squeezed. It was the same way I'd seen him show affection for his teenage daughter, and it felt more parental versus what you might expect of an older sibling. It was as if he could sense my wish that my dad had been more like him.

These were good people, and they'd chosen me. It would take some getting used to, but I liked the warm and fuzzy feeling swirling in my belly.

I finally had a family.

The living room was a mess of wrapping paper flung in every direction after the kids were finally let loose to open gifts. Charlie was a hoot, running over to show me every item she discovered hidden beneath cheerful packaging. She was my little buddy, and I loved the bond we were building.

The chaos eventually slowed, and the bounty beneath the tree dwindled to next to nothing. Only a few packages remained. Braxton shifted, jostling me from where I was curled into his side on the couch.

"Gotta let me up if you want your gift," he teased, tickling my side.

I shrieked, squirming to get away from him. Braxton used that as an opportunity to shuffle through the mess to reach the tree. Squatting, he lifted a wide, shallow box.

Returning to where I sat, he placed the package in my lap, kneeling before me, practically vibrating with excited energy.

I ran my hand through his hair, joking, "Is this a gift for me or for you?"

His face lit up with that smile that warmed my heart. "Both."

Quirking an eyebrow, I wondered what in the world could be inside.

Braxton bounced on his knees. "I can see those wheels turning, Firefly. Unless you have X-ray vision, you'll need to actually open it to find out what's inside."

Rolling my eyes at him, I tore the paper along the seam. I couldn't bite back a smile when the item came into view. It was my very own pair of hockey skates.

Tracing the line of the skate's blade pictured on the front of the box, he smirked. "No more rentals for my girl. We'll get them baked this afternoon, and maybe you will come out on the lake with us before we have to head back to Connecticut."

My brows rose. "The lake?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, you know, that big body of water seen through those windows over there." Braxton pointed behind me.

I smacked his finger down. "I know what a lake is and where it's located. Isn't it dangerous?"

"Nah. Been doing it my whole life. We know how to spot thin ice and test for thickness. It's perfectly safe."

Chewing on my lip, I wasn't so sure. I was already taking so many risks, and it seemed like tempting fate to add more.

"We'll see." It was neither a yes or a no.

"Braxton, since you're up, can you grab our gift for Dakota?" Natalie called over from the opposite couch.

"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything," I protested.

Natalie simply smiled. "I have a habit of going overboard during the holidays. It gives me joy to see others happy."

Blushing, I didn't know how to argue with that. Braxton stood and grabbed a similarly sized and shaped box to the one containing my new skates.

"Hope you two compared notes. I don't think I need two pairs of skates."

Everyone laughed, and Braxton joined me on the couch again. Slipping the paper off, I found a large shoebox. Opening the top revealed a pair of camel-colored, fur-lined boots. The logo on the box indicated that they were name-brand and expensive.

"Braxton shared your shoe size. I hope that's okay," Natalie said.

Nodding, I let my fingers trail over the soft suede. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

Beside me, Braxton teased, "Minnesota winter starter pack. Boots and skates. You'll be elongating your O's before too long."

Laughter bubbled up from my chest.

"I think that's everything, then," Natalie declared.

I had been so caught up in the chaos that I forgot I'd brought items for the family inviting me to crash their Christmas. Jumping up, I exclaimed, "I have gifts!"

Stepping carefully around the piles of presents, I rushed to my room, finding the brightly wrapped packages stowed in my suitcase. Bundling them in my arms, I returned to where everyone waited expectantly. Checking the tags, I handed them to each family member, including one for Max, which I gave Natalie to open.

The sound of ripping paper filled the air as they opened my gift of choice—books. There were thrillers for Jaxon and Braxton, a romance for Natalie, an up-and-coming young adult series for Amelia and Jameson to share, chapter books for Beau, picture books for Charlie, and a couple of sensory board books for Max.

The kids thanked me before running off to play with their new toys.

Natalie beamed at me from across the room. "Thank you, Dakota. This was so thoughtful. I don't have this one, but it's been on my to-be-read list for a while, so it's perfect!"

"I'm glad you like it."

It wasn't one of mine. We were getting closer, but not that close.

I'd chosen a big-name author who was traditionally published since I knew Natalie was an avid romance reader. Even though I was a smaller, independently published author, there was no jealousy for the authors who had already hit it big. Did I want to get there someday myself? Sure. But that didn't mean I resented those who paved the way. Every author deserved a chance to be successful as there were readers aplenty that we shared amongst us. They were my peers, not my competition.

Braxton pulled me close, and I melted into his side. He pressed his lips to my temple, whispering, "You did good. I declare our first Christmas a success."

I could always count on Braxton to be steady and sure. He had no idea how much I needed him to be my anchor, but that's what made it so special. He was solid for me without my having to ask.

Was this what it was like when you found your person?

God, I hoped so because he was effectively ruining me for all men, my book boyfriends included. And in that moment, I realized why women sought the happily ever after, greedily devouring it on page day after day. They were chasing the high that came with falling in love.

I finally understood.