33. Braxton

The trade to Indianapolis was exactly what I'd needed. Honestly, it was the perfect situation. The Indy Speed were the Comets' biggest rivals. If there was one place that didn't idolize my brother, this was it.

Not only that, they had welcomed me with open arms.

The fans were wearing my jersey within a week of my arrival, holding signs saying they got the younger, faster Slate brother. It was a huge confidence boost, even if I was still struggling under the weight of Dakota's betrayal being the reason I had requested a trade halfway through my rookie season.

My new captain, Maddox Sterling, had taken me in, offering me a room at his house until I got settled in the area. And even though I wasn't in the mood, more often than not, he was able to drag me out after games to Pipes, the local karaoke bar the Speed frequented. I couldn't lie; getting drunk and singing off-key did help me forget for a little while.

Overall, the team was great, and I quickly realized how lucky I was that they had brokered a deal with the Comets to take me on. Their management team must have seen something in me because they'd given up two draft picks—a third-rounder this year and a fourth-rounder the year after—to finalize the trade to bring me to Indianapolis.

While the Comets were getting older, the Speed had fresh, young talent, and their potential for future championships was far greater than the team I'd left behind.

The hardest part was making the call to Natalie. I was on a plane to Indy the day of the trade, and when I landed, I knew I needed to explain why. I could hear my normally mellow brother yelling in the background. Jaxon was pissed that I'd gone behind his back and essentially "quit" being a Comet without a word.

There was a reason I hadn't told anyone before the details were finalized. I knew they would try to talk me out of it, and I couldn't risk it. I had to get away.

Seeing her again . . . I just couldn't do it. It hurt too much.

Natalie understood, even if my brother didn't. She told me she loved me no matter what and that they would visit when the Comets came to town. It broke my heart, knowing my choices meant I would be forced to watch my nieces and nephews grow up from afar. I adored each and every one of them and would miss them fiercely.

Thankfully, the Speed and Comets had already played all their regular season games against each other by the time I arrived. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing the disappointment etched on my brother's face or, worse, having to return to Connecticut.

I'd made it a week after the move before I was forced to block Dakota's number.

The calls, I could ignore. And why I'd left that lifeline open, I would never know. Maybe in the back of my mind, there was a tiny flicker of hope that we could fix what was broken.

As the days stretched on, I had more time to think and analyze our time together. I couldn't for the life of me pinpoint where the shift had happened—where she'd flipped the switch to deception—and it ate at me. There had to be some sign to confirm that her words weren't genuine or that the devotion in her eyes was fabricated. Or fuck, the sex. How could that have all been fake, a lie? No one was that good of an actress, were they?

So, when she began texting, and I saw those three little words light up my phone screen—I love you—I shut down. My heart was battered and bruised, aching to reach out and get those answers, but then I remembered this was the second time I'd been fooled. What was the saying? The second time, it was shame on me.

I'd made a colossal mistake, entrusting my heart to someone who had smashed it into a million pieces.

There wasn't enough glue in this world to piece it back together.

The Comets hadn't done well after my departure, sliding down in the standings, narrowly managing to snag a wild card spot for the playoffs. The Speed won the division, earning the home-ice advantage through at least the Eastern Conference Finals, and the Comets were forced onto the other side of the bracket.

Yet another small favor.

I wasn't sure I could handle going head-to-head with my old team in such a high-stakes situation. Especially after what had happened in their playoff series last year with Saint Booker taking a cheap shot late hit on Cal Berg after the final whistle blew. Cal no longer played, but Hannah was still pissed about it, and if there's one woman you didn't want to fuck with, it was that one.

There was no love lost between the Comets and Speed. That was for sure.

The playoffs went by in a blur. We breezed past the Michigan Lakers in the first round by sweeping the series four games to none. Then came the Atlanta Aviators in the second round, which was more of a challenge. A back-and-forth series had us winning in six games. The only thing standing between us and playing for a championship was four wins against the Charlotte Crusaders.

That's when disaster struck.

During Game 5, Maddox took a bad hit into the boards, tearing his ACL. He was ruled out for the rest of the season and the future of his career was in jeopardy. He was thirty-four, and it wouldn't be easy to come back from that type of injury at his age.

It was a huge blow to morale to see our captain taken out. He was the backbone of our team, but we found a way to rally without him, earning that fourth win in the Conference Finals and making it to the championship round.

It would be us against the Minneapolis Freeze, my hometown team.

Talk about a childhood dream. As a rookie, I was staring down the possibility of winning a championship against the team I grew up cheering for as a child.

I couldn't have drawn it up any better. It seemed like fate.

The Speed struggled without our leader, who could only watch on from the press box with the other injured players. Even as Jenner Knight—one of our alternate captains—stepped in, it was clear we were lacking a crucial piece of our team on the ice.

We dropped the first two games on home ice to the Freeze but managed to steal one on the road in Game 3. Losing Game 4 away, we returned home, knowing each game from that point forward would mean elimination if we lost. Simply put, if we didn't win out, we were losing the championship. There was no room for error. One more loss, and it was over.

Game 5 was, thankfully, a win in Indy, so we headed back to Minneapolis for Game 6.

Being a Minnesotan, born and raised, my entire family was in attendance for what could be my final game of the season. Nothing like a little extra pressure to perform when your back was against the wall. But I knew they would be proud of me, no matter what.

Well, most of them.

When we took the ice for warmups, I saw my name on a sign in the corner. Skating over, I saw my nieces and nephews smiling and waving as I approached. Beau held a sign that read: Wrong Jersey, Uncle Braxton, but We Love You Anyway! This was the first time I'd seen their faces in person since I left Connecticut, and I silently thanked whomever had allowed strings to be pulled for them to come down to the space normally reserved for the home team's kids.

Giving them each a fist bump through the glass, I skated off, feeling more energized than I had in months. I knew deep down in my bones that we were going to win this game.

Coach Avery spoke to the team in the locker room between warmups and the anthem. He kept his remarks brief, touching on important points, like playing positionally sound hockey, paying attention to our matchups, and eliminating bad turnovers. Most importantly, he warned us to stay out of the box, not wanting to give the Freeze any extra advantages if we wanted to emerge from the game victorious.

The team clapped as he announced the starting lineup and walked out with the rest of the coaching staff.

Jenner said a few words about playing with heart as our stand-in at the captain position.

When he was done, I raised my hand, asking if I could speak before we headed down the tunnel. He nodded, and I stood at the center of the room.

Taking a deep breath, I looked around the room, making sure to catch the eye of each of my teammates. "I know I'm the new guy, but I just wanted to stand up and say that this is the dream of every man who has ever laced up a pair of skates. But we are the ones here now. If we put one skate in front of the other tonight, I believe we can win, get home to Indy, and raise that trophy high over our heads like we always pictured in front of our home crowd." There was a round of applause, but I wasn't done. "Think about our captain. He's not out there going to battle with us tonight, but no one deserves to have his name immortalized in silver more than him. So, we go out there and win it for Maddox!"

Every player rose to their feet, cheering, "For Maddox!"

Time to make our dream a reality.

For as much energy as we'd left the locker room with, the game was not going our way.

We scored a goal early in the first period that the Freeze challenged as offside, and after review, that was confirmed, wiping our goal off the board. Then, with a minute left in the first, we scored again, but that time was waived off for goaltender interference.

We couldn't catch a break.

Going into the second period, the Freeze scored, putting us down one. We rallied back, tying the game at one-to-one before the buzzer sounded, signaling intermission.

The third period dragged on for what seemed like hours, and I didn't know about the other guys, but I was giving it my all, and it didn't feel like it was enough. In the final minute, the Freeze scored, and even with the goalie pulled, we couldn't even it up before the final horn sounded.

The sting of defeat sank in as Freeze players threw their gear in the air, celebrating winning a championship we felt should have been ours.

It was a punch to the gut knowing we had two goals erased from the scoreboard early in the game, only to lose by one. There was nothing worse than knowing you were that close and fell short.

After the Freeze settled down, we lined up for the customary end-of-series handshake line. There was always such a stark contrast in these lines. One team was smiling, exuberant as they congratulated their opponents for basically losing, while the other was downcast, knowing their season was over.

The rest of the team filed off to the locker room, but I sat on the bench, watching as the trophy was awarded to the Freeze. I wanted to remember this disappointment; it would fuel me for years to come. I never wanted to feel this way again and would work twice as hard to make sure that, at some point, I was the one screaming and cheering as I lifted that fabled trophy high over my head.

When the families took to the ice, I shuffled down the tunnel. By now, the team would be mostly showered and changed. The press wouldn't want much to do with the losing team tonight. We would debrief our traveling pack of reporters when we arrived back in Indianapolis tomorrow. Then, locker cleanout and exit interviews would be conducted with the management team.

The season was over.

My eyes were downcast, but a flash of red caught my eye as I moved down the concrete hallway. Peering up, my heart sank.

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, someone refused to take my calls, then blocked my number. Oh, and that was all after he 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."

Dakota's lower lip trembled, and her eyes grew glassy. "And I'm sorry I used to be one of the people who judged players based on the worst among them. I need you to know that you're worth more than the game on the ice. Your value doesn't lie in the stat lines you put up or anyone else's opinion of your play. You are more than the game. You are more to me."

Why couldn't I breathe? What was happening?

Tentatively, she reached out to remove one of my gloves, allowing it to drop to the ground. Slipping her fingers into mine, she gave a gentle squeeze. "You opened my eyes to so much, not only in hockey but in life and in love. No matter what happens between us, I need you to know that I'll never regret meeting you, letting you into my life."

Before my eyes came flashes of our time together—every beautiful moment of falling in love with the woman standing before me. There was a reason I couldn't find a crack in the fa?ade. Everything we shared had been genuine.

And I was the one who walked away in a fit of rage, slamming the door shut on our relationship and uprooting my life to put space between us.

My knee-jerk reaction—the triggers from my past trauma—had led me here. I couldn't undo the trade. Dakota's life was in Hartford, and I was bound to the Speed in Indy for the next two seasons. Even if we took the time to rebuild our trust, a long-distance relationship might prove to be too much to overcome. I might have ruined the best thing in my life because I let my temper rule me.

I knew I wouldn't survive the pain of losing her twice, so I pulled my hand from her grasp. Hurt blue eyes peered up at me, and even though my heart was breaking, I kept my voice emotionless. "Thank you for coming here and forcing me to listen so that we can move on."

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and I couldn't bear to look at her hurting a moment longer. Turning away, I made it two steps down the hallway toward the locker room before her voice said, "I pulled the book down."

Frozen to the spot, I didn't turn around. "What?"

Sniffles reached my ears. "As soon as Bristol picked me up off the ground, I went straight to my computer and pulled the book from all platforms. Then, I issued a public apology to my readers for releasing a story that wasn't mine to tell."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "That doesn't undo the damage, Dakota. It was out there in the universe for how long? Long enough to become a bestseller. Thousands of people have copies in their possession. Pulling the plug and halting sales doesn't change that. You can't put the genie back into the bottle on this one."

"I know. I'm acutely aware that I can't undo the greatest mistake I've ever made. And I don't mean writing that book. Hurting you will always haunt me. All I can do now is try to make it right in any way that I can."

"Dakota." I sighed. "You can't fix this."

Almost as if she needed to touch me one final time before I severed our tie forever, she placed a hand on my padded shoulder. "Every penny I made in royalties, I gave to the Hartford Community Soup Kitchen. In your name."

Stunned, I whipped around to stare at her. "You did what?" While she simply shrugged, my mind raced, trying to run the math. "That had to be . . . a lot."

She huffed out a laugh. "A little over thirty thousand dollars."

My eyes widened. "You made that in a week?"

"Your story resonated with people." Dakota sighed. "But it doesn't matter. Because the cost was too great."

Heart threatening to beat out of my chest, I asked, "You just . . . gave it away? To my soup kitchen?"

"Yeah. I went in person to hand over the check. I spoke to Heather and made it very clear that we didn't want a big deal made of the donation but that you wanted to leave a lasting mark since you wouldn't be local to Hartford anymore."

"Right." Another reminder that even though the Speed was a better fit for me professionally, I'd left so much behind in Connecticut. My entire future had shifted in an instant.

"Um." Dakota shifted on her feet. "I'm sure you have the press you have to deal with. Thanks for hearing me out. I'm so sorry. For everything."

Fear gripped my chest as she began to walk away. The other half of my soul was leaving.

The idea of never seeing her again was enough to scare me straight, and in a split second, I decided she was worth the risk. It might not work out between us if we gave our relationship a second chance, but I wasn't willing to go back to the misery I already knew existed in her absence. If I could delay that misery and experience joy for however long we had, I was willing to try.

"So that's it?" I called out to her back, causing her to turn around. "Is this how it works in your books? Someone comes in hot with a grand gesture and then walks away? They just give up? What happened to the guaranteed happily ever after? I feel kinda cheated out of mine."

One of her eyebrows rose. "You want the happy ending?"

I nodded. "I think it's gonna take some work, but I'm willing to try if you are."

Dakota stared at me in disbelief. "Really?"

"Baby, I've lived a life without you by my side, and let me tell you, it's not a life I wanna live. I'm no longer na?ve enough to believe in the beautiful boy-meets-girl-falls-in-love-and-everything-is-perfect-for-the-rest-of-their-lives kinda reality."

Her sweet laugh filtered through the air. "Now that sounds more like a romance novel."

I chuckled because she wasn't wrong. "I know not every love story gets a happy ending. And that ours might end someday. But know that I'd rather have a handful of amazing days with you than close the door now, for fear that it won't work out."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I've missed you so much."

Closing the gap between us, I pulled her into my arms, content for now to hold her close. I should have known the connection we shared was too strong to be severed so easily.

It was at that moment I knew it would never be broken again. Dakota was my person, and I was hers. My faith in us had been shaken but was finally restored.

I was never letting her go again.