23. Dakota

The last thing I remember after Braxton carried me to the bathroom—explaining how and why it was vital for me to pee after sex—was passing out in his arms, wrapped in the warmth and safety he provided.

Stretching in bed, a smile curved on my lips before I opened my eyes. I still could not believe how Braxton turned on a dime in the middle of sex. I would have never guessed it, but I wasn't complaining. Bristol would die when I recounted exactly what he'd said to me. Just thinking about it had me clenching my thighs.

"I want to hear my name on your lips when you come around my cock. None of this biting-your-lip bullshit, trying to be quiet. I want to hear every moan, sigh, and scream. I've earned every single one of your sounds. They belong to me."

Turning on my side, I shifted, trying to snuggle closer to Braxton. My smile turned into a frown when my eyes opened to find he was gone. What time was it? Where had he gone?

I sat up and plucked my phone from the nightstand. The display screen read: 10:30 AM. Whoa. I guess losing your virginity really took it out of a girl. Or perhaps it was the total of four orgasms. That could've done it, too.

No wonder he wasn't still in bed.

Slinking to the bathroom, I freshened up and threw on loungewear, unsure of our plans for the day. I could always change later.

Cracking my door open barely an inch, I peeked into the kitchen, only to find it empty and quiet. In a house with this many people—more than half of them children—I expected to be met with a bustle of activity, especially at this late hour. Curious.

With each step I took, moving into the kitchen, I could feel Braxton between my thighs. It was a pleasant soreness, a reminder of the intimate moment we'd shared. I wondered if the morning after always felt like this or if it was just the stretch of the first time that did it. Either way, I was walking on air. Nothing could bring me down.

I selected a coffee pod and began making myself a cup. Even though I'd slept in, caffeine was needed this morning. As I was bringing the mug to my lips, Natalie entered the kitchen, smiling when she spotted me.

"Good morning," she chirped.

"It is," I agreed, hiding my smile behind my coffee mug and taking a sip.

She leaned her hip against the kitchen island. "You two have a good evening?" Natalie chuckled. "Don't answer that. You were probably glad for the peace and quiet of an empty house. There aren't as many places to hide here as there are in our place in Connecticut."

"Your kids are precious, Natalie. I'm sure I can speak for both of us when I say they're never a bother."

"Braxton is amazing with kids." She smirked. "But then again, so is Jaxon. Must be in their DNA."

I knew what she was hinting at.

More than once since we'd met, Natalie had implied that she and Braxton were super close. If I had to guess, he'd probably confided in her about his plans for the future, which included me and a potential family. She wouldn't get an argument from me that Braxton would make as incredible a father as his older brother. Still, I wasn't going to say anything to her about our future family before I discussed those ideas with my boyfriend. We had plenty of time. There was no rush. We were both in our early twenties.

"Speaking of an empty house." I gestured around. "Where is everyone?"

"Ah." Natalie tilted her head. "They're out on the lake. Jaxon has been begging me to let him install an outdoor rink on our property back home. He raves about skating in the open air, saying it reminds him of his childhood and how he wants that for our kids. I tried to tell him it's not always cold enough to maintain it, but then he started talking about a permanent setup with a chiller and being able to convert it into a roller rink in the summer, and I threw my hands up. I give it another year or two before he has one installed. The man lives for those kids." A soft smile graced her lips.

I could just picture the Slate men out there, acting like kids themselves. It was sweet that they could share their love for the game with the next generation in a more relaxed environment.

"Do any of your kids play?" I asked Natalie.

Light laughter bubbled up from her chest. "They can all skate, as you can imagine, especially having taken Charlie to the rink. Thank you again for that. It was really special for her to get that one-on-one time she so desperately needs with a new baby in the house."

I waved her off. "It was no problem. She's a little firecracker."

"That, she is." Natalie huffed out a sigh that was a mixture of exasperation and love. "Amelia and Jameson skate well enough for family functions at the rink and, of course, to go out on the lake, which is a rare treat since we don't often make it out here in the winter. But Beau . . . Oh, that boy has been Jaxon's shadow from day one. I don't think we could have kept him off the ice if we tried. He and Knox—Benji and Liv's boy—play for the same youth team back in Hartford. If those two boys had it their way, they'd be legacy players for the Comets. Their dads are not just their personal heroes but their hockey heroes too."

My heart twisted inside my chest. It was a beautiful picture Natalie painted of paternal love, but one I hadn't seen in action until now. It wasn't just that my own dad was nothing to write home about, but that Braxton's had no issue mistreating him in public. I knew Braxton would move heaven and earth to be the kind of father Jaxon was to his kids. That thought helped dull the pain to an ache.

We would do better for our family—no matter when that was.

Was it weird that I'd accepted the eventuality of a life with Braxton? It wasn't a question of "if" anymore, but "when." And after last night, I couldn't imagine letting anyone else get that close to me. It took an insane amount of trust, which I didn't give freely. That man held my heart—my life—in his hands.

The stomping of boots startled me, and I jolted enough to have coffee sloshing over the side of my mug and onto the floor. Muttering to myself about being clumsy, I snatched paper towels to clean the mess as the Slate crew strode noisily into the kitchen, each sporting rosy cheeks.

"Guess it's time for an early lunch break to warm up before they head back out." Natalie winked, catching my eye.

Feeling the need to be helpful, I offered, "I can help."

"I think the day calls for grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup." She moved past me into the large pantry before returning with large cans of condensed soup.

Jaxon plopped Charlie onto the island, and that's when I realized we were missing someone.

"Where's Braxton?" I asked.

Eyes shifting to his wife before returning to meet my gaze, he replied, "He said he might be in later."

My heart sank, and nausea churned in my gut.

I'd brushed off waking up alone due to the time. Then, when Natalie told me they all went skating, I would never have expected him to just sit around, waiting until I woke. But now? He actively chose not to come inside with the rest of the crew. He was avoiding me.

I'd thought what we shared last night was special. It had certainly felt that way to me. But what did I know? I'd never had sex before. Maybe the endorphins messed with my head, making me think it meant more than simply chasing a high. Or perhaps he was still upset I hadn't told him I was a virgin. Now that I thought back on it, I'd been the one pushing after he wanted to slow things down. More than once. And now he couldn't bear to face me.

Then, my mind went to the absolute worst-case scenario—that now that we'd slept together, I no longer provided a challenge. That all of this had been an act, a game, to get into my pants. That Braxton was cut from the same cloth as my father and Levi but had hidden it better.

If last night had felt like a magical dream, this morning was a nightmare.

"You should go out and join him." Natalie's soft voice spoke to my right.

Great. These people had already seen me fall apart in front of them once this weekend. I couldn't let it happen again. I was a big girl who'd made a conscious choice to sleep with Braxton. I couldn't control his actions after the fact, only my own.

Schooling my features, I shook my head, grabbing a pan to heat the soup. "No, I think I'll stay in today. I'm behind on my writing. Might as well take advantage while everyone is out."

Yeah, that's just what you need. In the frame of mind you're in, you'll likely end up writing some bullshit third-act breakup, and your readers will hate you for it.

Thankfully, Natalie didn't press the subject, working alongside me, making no less than a dozen grilled cheeses that the kids scarfed down before bundling up and heading back outside.

As I was settling onto the couch with my computer perched on my lap, ready to let my feelings flow through my fingertip—confident that I'd end up deleting most of it anyway—Natalie came to stand before me.

Peering up, I could tell by how she twisted her hands that she was trying to decide whether to intervene now that the kids and Jaxon were gone. Her brown eyes were warm and full of compassion, but she must have decided against whatever case she intended to make as an excuse for Braxton. Smart lady. I wasn't in the mood and didn't want to come off like a bitch to his sister-in-law.

Instead, she asked, "Would you mind keeping an eye on Max for a bit so I can watch the kids outside? He's all fed and changed, and down for a nap. You won't have to do much other than ensure the house doesn't burn down." That got a small smile out of me, so she continued, "I'll leave a monitor for you, and if he fusses before I'm back, just place a hand on his belly and rub, and he'll likely conk back out. I know it's a lot to ask—"

"I'd be happy to," I cut her off. Honestly, I was glad for a chance to be alone until I sorted out the doubts swirling in my mind. "Go enjoy your children while they're young."

"Flies by faster every year," she mused with a faraway smile, gazing out the window to where her family must be, off in the distance. I'd tried looking out there earlier but could barely make them out.

Natalie left me to bundle up and head outside. For a while, I sat there and stared at my blank computer screen. As much as I wanted to expel the toxic thoughts from my mind, I'd read one too many storylines about deleted files finding their way to someone and ruining a relationship. Once I finished having my pity party, I would talk to Braxton. That was the only way I could know what he was thinking and why he was keeping his distance after we'd shared such an intimate experience.

So, I closed my laptop and laid down on the couch, my eyes trained on the video monitor and baby Max's steady breathing. Surprisingly, I found comfort in his innocence. His whole life was ahead of him, and I began creating stories in my mind about what that life might possibly be like. Anything was better than thinking about my own life. Even if only for a little while.

Max stirred only once while Natalie was gone, and her instructions to rub his belly worked like a charm. He was a beautiful baby, but I was still a little nervous about picking him up, so I was thankful when he went right back to sleep.

Ditching my plans to write while the house was silent, I picked up my e-reader, torturing myself by digging into miscommunication scenes I'd marked in various books. It was a reminder that I needed to talk to Braxton. I didn't want to see us fall into the same trap as fictional characters who let their emotions win out over common sense and maturity. I was smarter than that. I knew what needed to be done. The only problem was working up the courage to actually do it.

There was a light knock on the door, and I jumped up, rushing to answer for fear that whoever was there would knock loud enough to wake Max again. Twisting the deadbolt, I threw open the door. On the other side stood a woman I recognized from the video at Jaxon's milestone game.

Braxton's mom was here. Could this day get any worse?

"Can I help you?" I was trying and failing to keep the disdain from my voice for the woman who had stood idly by as her husband verbally abused their son.

Flashing me with the same warm, crooked smile both her sons possessed, she replied, "We haven't formally met. I'm Shannon Slate."

"I know who you are."

The bite of my tone and skipping of pleasantries had her smile slipping slightly. "Oh. Of course. I just stopped by to see if Natalie wanted help with Max this afternoon. With such a beautiful day, I assumed the kids would want to spend their time on the lake."

Crossing both arms over my chest, I kept her on the other side of the threshold, biting back a retort about what happened when you assumed.

Yeah, I was being petty. But I didn't care.

"You assumed correctly. But I've got Max handled. Natalie went out with the crew a while ago."

"I see." Shannon nodded her head slowly. "Do you mind if I come in? I'd love to see my grandchildren when they return. Living so far away, we don't get to see them as often as we'd like. This Christmas has been an absolute dream, having them home."

She thought she could win me over with the loving grandma routine, but it wouldn't erase the damage to the man I loved. It was my gratitude to Natalie and Jaxon for hosting me this weekend that had me stepping to the side and allowing Shannon entry.

I let her remove her shoes and coat. But she didn't make it two steps further into the house before I said to her back, "I don't like the way your husband treats Braxton."

Shannon's shoulders rose and fell with the force of her heavy sigh. Turning to face me, sad whiskey eyes met mine. "I don't blame you. Neither do I."

My temper flared, and I shouted, "Then how could you let it happen? You just stood there! Seeing a wrong and doing nothing to right it makes you complicit. Do you have any idea what that did to Braxton?"

"Staying away for Christmas made his feeling pretty clear."

I let out a disbelieving laugh. "You think it's that simple? That he doesn't feel the weight of disappointment from his own father pressing down on him so hard it threatens to crush him? And not only that night, but his whole life? Skipping Christmas was a small act of defiance, and if I weren't here, I know he would have been there. He is selfless, putting everyone else before himself. I was the one who refused to go. I have no interest in being in the same room, let alone the home, of someone who could treat their child so poorly."

Dropping her head, Shannon breathed out, "He wasn't always this way."

My brows rose. "Braxton?"

"No, Michael." Walking away from me, she sat on the couch, patting the seat beside her. "Please let me explain."

In my mind, there wasn't anything she could say that would justify her husband's actions. But curiosity won out, and I joined her.

Shannon gave me a small smile. "Michael was gentle and kind, like my boys. I have to believe they have the best parts of him, even if they're not often visible anymore."

I scoffed, finding that hard to believe. The man I saw tear his son to shreds was nothing like Braxton or Jaxon.

"I know. It doesn't sound believable, but it's true." She sighed. "I'm sure you've noticed the age gap between my boys." When I nodded, she continued, "Jaxon was a surprise. We'd been engaged for over a year, but two months before the wedding, we found out we were expecting. That little boy lit up our world. When he turned two, we decided to try for another. It didn't take long before I was pregnant again."

My heart sank to my stomach. I could only imagine where this story was headed.

"A few weeks later, I woke up in a pool of blood. Michael was incredible; he never left my side, whispering promises that we would try again. And we did." Shannon paused. "We lost a total of six."

I sucked in a sharp breath. This woman had been through the unimaginable six times over and was still standing? I wasn't a mother but couldn't help imagining myself in her shoes. Once would have been enough to shatter me, I was sure, let alone six.

"I named them all," Shannon said softly. "And I know when my time on this Earth has passed, each one of them will be waiting for me at the gates of Heaven. There's a comfort in that."

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. Losing a parent would never compare to the loss of a child.

"You've met my boys. They're natural-born family men, even Braxton, who isn't a father yet. Could you imagine either one of them suffering the unimaginable pain that comes with the loss of a child? Before you've even had a chance to hold them in your arms and tell them you love them with every fiber of your being? It would destroy them."

My vision blurred at the thought of Braxton. The course of his life had changed before he was even born.

"With each loss, Michael's mental health took another blow. Grief hits people in different ways. He kept his devastation buried deep, but he blamed himself. While he himself was hurting, he couldn't bear to see me suffering. After the sixth, he broke. He couldn't take it anymore. Begged me to be happy with Jaxon, whose hockey success, even at seven, was taking up much of our focus." She huffed out a laugh. "Even threatened to get a vasectomy because he just couldn't do it again. I begged him for one more. If it didn't pan out, we would stop and maybe consider adoption. There was something deep in my soul that knew a piece was missing from our family."

"Braxton," I whispered his name.

"That's right," Shannon confirmed. "That next one was Braxton. He was the rainbow after the worst storm I'd ever endured. You have no idea how much joy it gives me to see this house filled with children. It was the dream I always had for myself."

While my heart broke for all this woman had been through, I didn't understand how it had influenced Michael's current behavior and mistreatment of Braxton.

Almost as if she could read my mind, Shannon explained, "Braxton was the one that stuck, and it was as if Michael poured all his hopes and dreams for every baby we'd lost into that one little boy."

I wasn't going to let this woman get away with justifying her husband's abuse because of a heart-wrenching story of loss.

"That doesn't excuse his actions. If anything, he should have showered him with love, cherishing the miracle that he was." The passion in my voice didn't escape Shannon's notice, and her eyes widened slightly.

"It doesn't," she agreed. "He was such a sweet little boy. He wanted to please his daddy so much." Shannon's whiskey eyes dropped to the floor. "At some point, he realized it was an impossible task, but he kept trying. The scene you witnessed in Hartford was the first time he ever fought back. The only thing that was different that night was your presence. I have to believe you've given him that strength. And while you might not be my biggest fan, you're good for my son. I can tell that you care deeply about him."

Fuck. I would not cry in front of this woman.

Standing suddenly, I said, "Your son deserves better from you, not only from his father. Do better. You're welcome to stay, but I don't think we have anything more to say."

Shannon nodded in understanding. "It was nice to meet you. I'll keep an eye on Max."

"Great."

I turned on my heel and closed myself in my room. Collapsing on the bed, I let the tears flow freely, letting Braxton's pain become mine.

What a pair of broken misfits we were.