Page 91 of Second-Rate Superstar
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 neverwanted 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.
