7. Dakota

Braxton was not at all what I thought he would be like. Sure, he had that cocky athlete swagger, but there was something deeper beneath the surface.

First, he'd nearly knocked me onto my ass when he said that word choice mattered. As a writer, that was practically my motto. A tiny shift could completely change a sentence and have a different meaning. When he said that, it felt like he could see directly into my soul.

Next, he'd ever so casually called me Firefly. I didn't know where that had come from or why, but it was such a stark contrast to what I'd been called by other men that it stole my breath away. I was accustomed to pet names in fiction. Hell, I wrote them every day. But to hear one slip from his perfectly plush lips, aimed at me? He was putting my book boyfriends to shame.

Then, there was the way he instantly wanted to tear Nix's head off for his not-so-clever nicknames. I had to fight not to swoon.

And don't get me started on how he had butterflies beating against my ribcage every time we touched. It would take all my effort not to want something more with him. Especially since he was already on board, flirting it up, flashing me that charming grin, and dropping subtle, sexy hints that he was interested. And let's face it, he didn't need to be subtle—that day he dropped by my house, he'd said as much. He wanted to take me out, and here I was, playing right into his hands.

Braxton was dangerous. Even more so because he was disarmingly charming.

If my father had been anything like him at this age, I could see how my mom fell for his act—hook, line and sinker.

But unlike her, I had the gift of foresight. It had only come at the expense of my mom's dignity.

What I couldn't shake was how distant he grew when I asked about his career.

From my experience, athletes loved to talk about themselves—their stats and how special being paid to play a game made them. The attention and fame went to their heads, further enlarging their egos. If the public ever got a peek behind the curtain, they'd realize these guys weren't superheroes; they just happened to be physically gifted.

Braxton had said something about not having a choice when it came to playing. How could he act as if he had been forced into a professional hockey career when tens of thousands of hopefuls never reached that point?

Something was lurking beneath that happy-go-lucky fa?ade, and I wanted to figure out what. Braxton was more complex than I'd initially thought—a puzzle that needed solving.

Confused didn't begin to cover what I was feeling right now, and that was before throwing in a bare-bones hockey explanation that had my head swimming, trying to keep it all straight.

Braxton was gearing up to shut down my line of questioning about his career when he received an incoming text message. Pausing to read it, his expression changed from one of dread to one of pure joy.

Smiling at me, he asked, "Wanna go on a field trip?"

This guy was giving me whiplash.

Stunned by the sudden shift, I gestured my hand around the cold ice rink. "Aren't we already on one?"

Chuckling, Braxton nodded. "We are. But what if I told you that where we are going might help your research? Don't you need to see inside the private lives of hockey players?" He smirked. "And not just the single ones, like yours truly?"

Wary, I sighed as I already had insider knowledge of football players' lives. "Probably."

"Then, come on!" Without warning, he picked me up and skated fast across the ice to reach the door we'd left open.

Placing me on my feet once we reached solid ground, Braxton dragged me into the lobby. He was practically giddy, the smile on his face never slipping as he dropped to his knees and untied my skates. Whatever had him so excited erased any semblance of boundaries between us as he tugged my feet out of the skates and slipped my sneakers onto them like I was a freaking fairytale princess with a glass slipper.

I barely had time to grab my coat before he was tossing my rental skates at the attendant behind the desk and tugging me into the cool October air.

"My car's this way," Braxton explained, his grip on my hand firm but soft.

Trying to slow his progress, I dug my heels into the pavement. "I drove myself here, remember?"

"I'll bring you back later," he brushed me off.

"Where are you taking me?" My words came out breathless as I ran to keep up with him.

Whiskey eyes sparkling beneath the parking lot lights, excitement vibrated through his body where our hands touched. "It's a surprise."

His joy was infectious, and I found myself laughing. "Okay."

Was I insane for going with him blindly? Probably.

But I was curious about the man who had me questioning everything I'd ever known about athletes. I wanted to believe he was different—an exception to the rule. And if I was going to uncover his true self, that required spending more time with him.

For research, of course.

As we pulled into the parking lot of Hartford General Hospital, my entire body tensed. Thankfully, it was dark outside, and Braxton didn't notice.

What were we doing here? He had mentioned something about players" private lives, but why did that mean visiting the hospital? And not just any hospital, but this one in particular?

Oblivious to my distress, Braxton swung the passenger door open, gripping my hand and hauling me toward the automatic sliding doors at the entrance. The closer we got to crossing the threshold, the higher my panic ratcheted up.

Steps away from the doors, I froze. My heart beat out of my chest as sweat gathered along the back of my neck.

Surprised at our sudden halt in progress, Braxton peered back at me. "Dakota?"

I didn't have words as dark spots swam in my vision. Releasing his hand, I bent over, trying not to pass out as my breathing accelerated.

"Hey." I felt rather than saw the hands cupping my face. "Dakota, I need you to take deep breaths."

I shook my head, my voice was barely a whisper. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. I'm right here."

Thumbs stroked my cheeks, spreading around wetness. I was crying. Great.

"I've got you. Breathe with me. In, two, three. Out, two three." The tenor of his voice was soothing, and my body responded to his command.

"That's it. Just like that," he coaxed.

My vision cleared, and I was met with the sight of Braxton's handsome face marred with concern. Blinking rapidly to clear the tears, I pulled back, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry." I stood upright.

Sensing my need for space, Braxton shoved both hands into his pockets. "No need to apologize. I've had a panic attack before."

Shocked, I stared at him. "You?"

He shrugged. "I'm human, just like you. We all have our triggers."

Who was this guy?

Shuffling on his feet, he asked cautiously, "You okay?"

I shook my head. "Not really." Dropping my eyes, I confessed, "My mom died in this hospital."

"Aw, shit. I'm so sorry, Dakota. I had no idea." His hand reached out to grasp mine.

Fresh tears welled in my eyes. Three years later, the pain of losing her hadn't dulled.

"She was all I had," I whispered.

Braxton pulled me into a hug, and I let him hold me. He was gentle and kind, a stark contradiction to all I knew of men. His embrace was comforting when I felt alone, mentally transported back to the moment when I lost my mom.

"I feel like an asshole. I should have told you where we were going. I just got so caught up . . ." His words trailed off.

Stepping out of the warmth of his arms, I gave him a shy smile. "It's not your fault."

Ducking his head, I could tell he didn't know what else to say. I understood. Until Mom passed, words of comfort toward someone who'd lost a parent felt hollow. You couldn't put yourself in their shoes. I wouldn't wish this type of pain on my worst enemy.

When Braxton peeked over his shoulder, I was reminded he'd come here for a reason tonight.

"You have to go up, don't you?" I asked quietly.

Eyes meeting mine, he nodded. "Yeah, I do. But I can take you back to your car first."

He'd been so excited at the rink. Whatever lay in wait inside couldn't be a sad occasion.

That gave me strength, and I shook my head. "No, it's fine."

"No, really, Dakota—"

Not letting him feel sorry for me a moment longer, I stepped past him and through the sliding doors. Spinning around, I held my arms open wide. "See? I did it."

Braxton's brows drew down. He knew I was pushing down the hurt for him.

"You coming?" I prompted. "I don't really know where I'm going."

His body visibly shook with the force of a heavy exhale. "Yeah."

Striding inside, he took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he led me toward the bank of elevators in the lobby.

Once inside, he pressed the button for the fourth floor and turned to me. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not really." Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. It hurt too much.

The metal doors slid open, revealing a brightly colored floor. It was a stark contrast to the cold and clinical space Mom had occupied in her final days. Hand in hand, we stepped out, and I saw a mural with a stork carrying a blanket containing a baby in its beak. We were on the maternity floor. Someone must've had a baby. No wonder Braxton had been so excited when he received the text at the rink.

Stopping at the nurse's station, Braxton asked, "Room 413?"

The helpful nurse pointed down the hall with directions, and off we went. Reaching the room, Braxton knocked gently before cracking the door open.

A feminine voice came in reply. "Come in!"

Pushing the door fully open, we were initially met with a curtain obscuring our view of the occupant. Braxton walked confidently past the curtain, with only a backward glance when I slipped my hand from his hold. Whoever was inside was a stranger to me, and I didn't want to intrude, electing to remain partially hidden—still able to see inside from my position.

There was a blonde woman in the hospital bed. Her hair was pulled up in a bun that had seen better days, but a smile split her face when chocolate-brown eyes landed on Braxton.

"Uncle Braxton is here!" she exclaimed as he made a beeline for her outstretched arms and hugged her.

Uncle? Was this his sister? Why hadn't he said something?

Because you're not together. He's your research project, and you've made that point abundantly clear.

Pulling back from their embrace, Braxton asked the woman, "What happened to everything being set up for next week, Nat?"

Nat rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know how it goes. Stop in this afternoon to meet Nate, my brand-new nephew—and namesake, I might add—born this morning, and have my water break while I'm visiting. And it was a damn good thing we were already in the building. There was barely time for an epidural, and if I didn't get one, Jaxon's vasectomy would've switched to a castration."

"Yikes." He chuckled. "So, Amy's here, too?"

Nat nodded. "It was quite the scene. Liam sprang into action, rushing out the door to make sure someone was home for the kids. Lucy and Preston would have never made it in time with rush-hour traffic, and Addy was still above the Atlantic on her way over."

"You could have called me." Hurt filtered into Braxton's voice.

She touched his arm. "Honestly, there wasn't time."

Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. "So, same birthdays?" He stepped back, revealing a shirtless man in an armchair near the window, a baby resting on his chest.

I nearly stumbled back upon seeing him. It wasn't that he was shirtless, though his muscular chest and arms were impressive. It was the striking resemblance to Braxton that caught me off guard. He was older, with longer black hair, but their faces were identical. It was like staring into the future. There was no denying which of the pair Braxton was related to. Jaxon, I believe his name was, had to be his brother.

"Can you believe it?" Nat's laughter filled the room.

"Well, you are best friends who live next door to each other. Seems fitting," Braxton mused as he made his way over to Jaxon.

Leaning in, he pulled the cap off the baby to reveal a shock of jet-black hair. "So, who do we have here?"

Jaxon beamed down at the baby on his chest. "Meet Maxim Michael Slate."

Braxton's thumb stroked the cheek of the sleeping baby. "Hey, Max."

Nat called over, "Jaxon finally got his boy."

Frowning, Jaxon said, "I have two boys at home."

Waving a dismissive hand, Nat replied, "You know what I mean. Can't deny those Slate genetics. Hockey is in the blood."

If I hadn't been watching closely, I wouldn't have noticed how Braxton's neck muscles tensed and his jaw clenched before drawing back from his brother.

What was that about?

"Why don't you introduce us to your guest, Braxton," Nat encouraged, and I startled, realizing I'd been caught staring.

Braxton's tight-set jaw relaxed when he turned to look at me, a smile easing onto his lips. When he held his hand out, I ventured forth from my hiding spot behind the curtain, heat creeping onto my cheeks.

"Sorry. I was along for the ride when Braxton got the news. Didn't want to intrude on your family moment." I ducked my head.

"The more, the merrier," Nat chirped. "And we'll forgive Braxton's bad manners for getting caught up in the excitement of the day." She placed a hand on her hospital gown-clad chest. "I'm Natalie." The same hand gestured to the man in the chair. "And that's my husband, Jaxon. He's Braxton's brother."

You'd have to be blind not to figure that out. They could be twins.

Braxton smiled down at me by his side before addressing his sister-in-law. "This is Dakota."

Natalie's eyes lit up. "Ooh. Dakota. That's a pretty name; unique."

"We can name the next one that," Jaxon called over from his seat.

Eyes widening almost comically, her head whipped to stare at him, shrieking, "Next one?! What kind of drugs did they give you? Because whatever it was sounds a hell of a lot better than what I got, that's hardly touching the feeling of being kicked in the crotch by a steel-toed boot."

Jaxon bit his lower lip, his chest shaking with the effort it took not to laugh at his wife.

Natalie turned to us, musing, "Maybe it hurt more this time because I insisted on watching. And let me tell you, that was a big mistake." She held up her hands, creating a large circle between them where her fingers didn't quite touch. "Like . . . really big." Her eyes went wide in emphasis.

Braxton leaned over to whisper, "She might complain about the painkillers, but they must be good enough. She's not usually this unfiltered."

"Uh-huh." I stood there in shock at the picture she painted.

Not sensing the discomfort she created, Natalie continued, "Although, I'd take that any day over what they did to poor Amy. Sliced her wide open to get that kid out." She wrinkled her nose. "But at least everything is still nice and tight down there for her."

Note to self—never ever write a childbirth scene. Sounds fucking gruesome.

If I was this shell-shocked hearing about it, there was no way I was throwing myself on the front lines of that research. And I wasn't about to offer up my body to experience it firsthand, either.

Jaxon chuckled, taking in my expression of horror. "Don't worry. Everything goes back to normal. I've verified it myself." He threw in a wink for good measure. "Many times."

That snapped Natalie out of it, and she yelled, "Jaxon! Inappropriate!"

Braxton and I burst out laughing. She had no clue that, moments prior, she was giving a graphic description of the "miracle" of birth, then turning around and reprimanding her husband for following suit.

"Aren't you glad you came with me? This is more entertaining than reality television," Braxton said to me.

Smirking up at him, I teased, "Yeah, with a side of nightmare fuel."

He winked. "This is true."

A phone alarm went off somewhere nearby, and Jaxon stood to silence it. "Gotta keep on top of the meds," he explained.

"Yeah, that's just what she needs," Braxton snickered under his breath.

Jaxon placed baby Maxim inside a glass-looking crib and went to work bundling him in a blanket. Wrapped up tight, he handed the baby to Braxton.

"Here you go, bud. Don't drop him."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, bro," Braxton shot back.

"Be back in a few," Jaxon said over his shoulder on his way out of the room.

"Jaxon!" Natalie called out. "You can't go out in the hallway half naked!"

Flashing a cheeky grin at his wife, he retorted, "Funny thing about a hospital. Pretty much the only place without a ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service' rule." And with that, he was gone from the room.

Braxton bounced the infant in his arms, and I couldn't help but stare. He looked so at ease, the smile on his face blinding.

Catching me staring, his whiskey eyes darkened. What was going on in that pretty head of his?

"Come, let's sit for a minute," he suggested, walking to the bench seated against the giant pane-glass window.

Settling beside him, I peeked at the baby. His little face was scrunched up in sleep, pink cheeks rounded. He was kinda cute.

"Want to hold him?" Braxton offered.

Sliding away from him down the bench, I protested, "Oh no. I'm good."

"You sure?" He raised an eyebrow. I could see what he was thinking. Most women went gaga for babies, and he was wondering why I would decline.

Chewing on my lip, I confessed, "I've never held a baby before."

"Never?" His voice rose in disbelief.

I shrugged. "Don't really have any younger brothers or sisters." At least that I knew about when they were babies. "Or little cousins. No friends with babies either."

Natalie's voice filtered over from the bed. "You're not alone. First time I held a baby, it was my own. But I'm willing to bet I was a bit younger than you when I had her."

My eyes snapped up to where she rested. Did she say younger than me? The idea was unfathomable that I would have a child at my age, let alone younger.

Guess you're forgetting how young your parents were when they had you.

How old was Braxton's brother? If I had to guess, maybe early thirties? That would be quite an age gap between them if Braxton were just starting his career.

Natalie referenced a girl, but Jaxon had mentioned two boys besides the one in the room with us now. So, they had at least four kids, the oldest being born when they were young. Maybe they'd had a whoopsie like me but stayed together. Was this what it might have been like if my dad had actually loved my mom?

Braxton spoke to Natalie, jarring me from my thoughts. "You know, Nat, if this whole hockey thing doesn't work out, Jaxon could have a future on the line at a quick-service Mexican restaurant. This little guy is a tightly rolled burrito."

"Maybe a good retirement plan," she joked back, and they both laughed.

Turning to him, I studied his face, remarking, "I can't believe how much you look like your brother."

Braxton stiffened beside me, but Natalie drew my attention. "Tell me about it." He shot her an unamused look, and she threw her arms up. "What? It's true and freaky as hell for me." She addressed me. "I met Jaxon when he was a touch younger than Braxton, so it's like looking at the man I love from the past. Although, they have switched hairstyles. Jaxon had longer hair when he was younger, but it was short, like Braxton's, when we got together. Now that he's grown it out again, Braxton decided to cut his short."

Surprised, I turned to Braxton. "You had long hair? As long as your brother's?"

"Longer," he gave me a one-word answer and nothing more as tension radiated off him in waves.

I couldn't understand what had upset him. Did he not like his brother? They seemed friendly enough, but what did I know about sibling dynamics? My half-siblings and I had never met in person. I imagined my father's mistress-turned-second-wife knew about me, but they were little kids when he left my mom, all three younger than me. Maybe they didn't know I existed. Even though they were innocent in the destruction of our lives, I wasn't sure I would be open to a relationship should they ever reach out. They represented my dad's "real family," even though we were the legal one. His heart lay with them, and we were the inconvenience—end of story.

A blonde nurse in pale pink scrubs walked into the room, grinning as she declared, "I've got a half-naked hockey star roaming my hallways, sending the nursing staff into cardiac arrest. Anyone in here know anything about that?"

Natalie rolled her eyes. "I tried to stop him."

"Yeah, well. Joke's on him now. He's out there shirtless, signing autographs for all the dads on the floor."

I cringed. There was nothing my father hated more than fans swarming him. Sure, he loved the celebrity status and recognition, but he felt it was beneath him to talk to the people who were the reason he had a job. No fans, no sports. Simple fact. I was sure Jaxon would be in a mood when he returned.

"If I know him, he's giving them free tickets, too." Natalie smiled.

What?

"Of course he is," the nurse replied. "Didn't you know having a baby on the same day makes them all best bros for life?"

The women laughed, and I was more confused than ever. Had I stepped into a parallel universe when I crossed the hospital threshold?

The nurse turned her uniquely pale green eyes on us, and they sparkled with recognition. "Hey! I know you!"

Stunned, I stared at the woman, having never seen her before in my life.

Braxton spoke beside me, "Hey, Liv." Amusement colored his tone. "Have a fun day?"

Liv's heavy exhale blew flyaways from her face. "Busy, that's for sure. I didn't wake up today thinking I'd be in the room for both Amy and Natalie when they delivered."

With his hands full, Braxton tilted his head to the nurse, explaining, "Liv is Benji's, one of our teammates, partner. If you haven't guessed, it's a tight-knit group."

This woman was married to a hockey player?

She was pretty, but her pear shape was a stark contrast to the model-thin ladies you expected athletes to go for. My mom had put on some weight after I was born, and I wondered if that was part of the reason my father had searched for alternative companionship.

Not only did Liv not look the part, but she was working? My brain was working overtime, trying to process how this brief glimpse into players' private lives contradicted everything I knew about professional athletes.

Liv smiled at us, gesturing a hand. "So, how long have you two been together?"

I sputtered, "Oh . . . No, we're not—"

Braxton cut me off. "We're friends."

Cheeks flushing, Liv smacked her forehead. "There I go again, putting my foot in my mouth. Seems to be all I can do lately. Sorry about that. You were wearing Braxton's number on your sweatshirt, and I just assumed."

Glancing down, I realized I was still wearing the hoodie Braxton had bought me at the rink. And damn, if it weren't the softest material I'd ever felt against my skin.

"I'm helping Dakota with some research for her book," Braxton told her. "We were at the rink when Jaxon texted about Max."

Natalie's brown eyes lit up. "You write books?"

I dropped my gaze to the floor. "Yeah."

"Anything I might have read? I love to read."

Peering up, I shook my head. "Probably not."

Braxton explained, "This new one is about hockey. Or has hockey players in it? Either way, Dakota doesn't know much about the sport, so I'm helping her out with the logistics."

Liv and Natalie looked at each other, their lips turning up, and I could tell they knew exactly what kind of book I was writing.

"Hockey in fiction is all the rage right now," Natalie mused with a smirk.

Braxton gawked at her. "Why? I still don't get it!"

Laughter from the two women filled the air, and I couldn't help but join in. Poor Braxton had no idea he was assisting me in objectifying men like him who played his sport. Thankfully, their spouses seemed to have a sense of humor about it.

"Is this some kind of girl-code thing?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "Something like that."

Shaking his head, mischief slid over his features. "Challenge accepted. I'm going to figure it out."

I couldn't deny he was cute. Feeling flirty—only God knows why—I teased him by motioning with my hand that I was zipping my lips and throwing away the key. The heat in his eyes intensified, and I felt it in my core.

You're asking for trouble, Dakota.

Max let out a wail, drawing Braxton's attention.

Natalie sighed. "He's probably hungry."

Standing, Braxton placed the baby in her waiting arms. "And I think that's our cue to leave."

Liv peeked down at the baby. "I'll go grab those meds before I clock out. I won't be here tomorrow, but I'll pop over in a few days to see how you guys are doing. Let us know if you need help getting Beau to hockey or just need him out of your hair. We're always happy to have him."

"Thanks, Liv. Four was already a handful. Five will be an adjustment."

Did she say five?

Liv headed for the door, smiling over her shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Dakota!"

"You too," I called back.

Braxton tilted his head, indicating we should follow, so I stood, saying to Natalie, "Congrats. Your baby is beautiful."

She smiled down at the bundle in her arms. "Thanks. I hope we get to see you again soon."

"Maybe."

Following Braxton into the hallway, we saw that Jaxon was still at the center of a crowd, shirtless and smiling. He gave a little wave when he saw us leaving, which Braxton returned as we made our way to the elevator.

Stepping inside, I asked in disbelief, "Your brother has five kids?"

Braxton moved his head from side to side. "Yes and no."

"What does that mean?"

"Natalie has three older kids from her first marriage. Only the baby, Max, and my niece, Charlie, are biologically Jaxon's. However, he did adopt the older three last fall. To him, there is no difference. They're all his."

My eyebrows rose. There they went again, blowing the stereotypes right out of the water. What if they were exceptions to the rule? A unicorn group of athletes that bucked the trend of being self-absorbed assholes skating through life on good looks and physical strength?

There was only one way to find out. I would have to spend more time with Braxton.