Page 29 of Second-Rate Superstar
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.”
Whowasthis 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—”
