I suppress a snort. While ironically I do play a team sport, I'm not overly close to my mates outside of partying with some of the single guys. I don't really buy into this "family" sort of vibe that the Brannons have instituted.
Not saying it's bad.
Just not me.
"Anything else?" I ask blandly.
"Maybe lay off the alcohol so you can control yourself," she returns harshly.
Before I can even retort, because I'm not a fucking alcoholic--I just like to party on occasion--she says, "And try to be a little more frugal in the game-suspending penalties. Pick your battles a little more wisely and rein in that temper a bit. You don't do a damn thing to help us from the stands."
Okay, she may have a point there, but honest to fuck...it's not like I plan to get suspended. I just go out there and play my fucking heart out, and I know that's something she appreciates, even if I'm not getting that vibe from her right now.
I've heard enough, and although it borders on disrespectful, I stand, effectively calling this meeting to an end. Looking down at her with clear eyes and a resolved attitude, I say, "I'll do my best to adhere to your wishes."
"I sure hope so," she says sternly, and the threat is clear.
Shape up or ship out.
As much as I respect Gray Brannon for her hockey smarts and for putting together an amazing team, I'm not liking her very much right now, because she wants to change who I am on a fundamental level. I simply nod and walk out of her office without a backward glance.
Chapter 2
Lexi
"Mr. Brannon will see you now, Miss Robertson," the receptionist says, and my head jerks up to look at her.
This is it.
The moment I've been waiting for for months now.
I swipe my hands along my stockinged thighs, hating how sweaty they are. I need to remember to give them another swipe before I meet the great Brian Brannon, president and CEO of the Carolina Cold Fury, so he's not shaking my slimy hand.
I stand up from the couch on shaky legs as I haul my large black purse over my shoulder, actually pining for the few moments of easy conversation I had with the gorgeous Roman Sykora a few moments ago. Of course, I easily recognized him, because I know every member of the Cold Fury and can cite their statistics too.
Roman Sykora is one of the team's bad boys. Maybe the baddest. He's a nonconformist, a pure beast on the ice and a man who marches to the beat of his own drum. I'm kind of the same, so it's a quality I definitely can appreciate.
I follow the receptionist down the hall, noting the closed office door with a brass nameplate: gray brannon, general manager. I wonder just how much trouble Roman is in, but it can't be too much. He didn't seem that bent out of shape about it.
We turn right at the end of the hallway and approach Brian Brannon's office. I can clearly see his name on the nameplate beside the door and my heart starts beating double time the closer we get. My hands sweat more and I rub them again along my thighs as I follow the receptionist.
When we reach the door, she knocks softly and then opens it without waiting for a response. She pushes it all the way open, stepping to the side and motioning for me to come through. I give her a thankful smile as I walk past her and watch as she closes the door behind me. When it clicks shut, I turn around slowly and face the man I've come to meet.
I've seen hundreds of Brian Brannon's pictures. I've seen hours of video. I've analyzed every nuance of his facial expressions and tried to determine if that's really genuine kindness and humility I see most often in his eyes when he's talking to the press.
But as I come face-to-face with him and stare into the Irish green eyes--the same eyes his daughter, Gray, inherited--I can't see anything but a slight look of curiosity as he stands from behind his desk and stares at me.
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice to introduce myself. He thinks I'm here for an interview for a college paper, and I'm terrified to finally lay down the truth before him.
Taking a deep breath, I walk across the expanse of his office and hold my hand out to him when I reach his desk. He leans forward slightly and we shake. "You must be Lexi Robertson."
"Thank you for taking time to meet with me, Mr. Brannon," I say, thankful my voice seems to be working just fine despite how nervous I am.
He looks at me thoughtfully a moment, then his curious expression morphs into vague recognition. He tilts his head slightly as he motions to the chair just behind me, indicating I should sit, before he asks, "Miss Robertson...have we met before? You look very familiar."
I take a step back, lower my butt into the seat, never breaking eye contact as I set my purse on the floor beside the chair. I can do this. I am strong and I'm the type who will willingly jump into the unknown because I fear nothing. "You knew my mother. Sybil Robertson."
Brian peers at me harder, his eyes narrowing slightly, and then they round in absolute recognition. He smiles as he places his hands on his desk and leans forward slightly. "Good God...you look just like her."
"Not the first time I've heard that," I say with a returned but reserved smile.
He nods and finally sits down in his chair, leaning back and causally crossing one leg over the other. He looks at me fondly, perhaps rooted in memory, as he says, "Gosh...it's probably been twenty-five years since I saw her last."
"Twenty-seven," I say bluntly, and his smile falters somewhat.
His voice is still pleasant and curious when he asks, "Well, how is she? Does she live in this area now?"
I shake my head slightly and force back the swell of sadness threatening to overtake me. "She died about ten months ago."
Instantly, sorrow and perhaps a tinge of regret flood Brian's eyes and he pushes up out of his chair. I watch as he rounds his desk and walks right up to me, putting a large hand on my shoulder. "I'm truly sorry for your loss. I didn't know your mother long, but she was an amazing woman."
"Thank you," I murmur as my gaze drops down to my hands, which are clutched tightly in my lap. "And yes...she was an amazing woman."
His hand squeezes my shoulder in comfort, and then it's gone. I lift my head and watch as Brian takes the chair beside me, turning it to face me. "So what can I do for you? My schedule said you're here for an interview for your college paper?"
My gaze falters. Falls right back down to my hands as my nerves cause my stomach to cramp.
You can do this, Lexi. You're brave and adventurous. Remember that.
"Miss Robertson," Brian says kindly, trying to get my attention...to prod me.
It works, and I lift my face back up to find him looking at me patiently.
No clue that I'm getting ready to turn his world upside down.
"I'm your daughter," I say bluntly, refusing to let my gaze drop again. I need to see exactly how he reacts, because that will tell me the true measure of this man.
"That can't be," he rasps out in astonishment, his eyes rounding with surprise.
To be fair, it sounds more like shock than denial.
He doesn't throw me out of his office.
He doesn't even call me a liar.
He looks neither fearful nor pissed off.
Instead, Brian Brannon just stares at me with utter confusion on his face.
I nod my head slowly. "You dated my mother twenty-seven years ago. For only about two months. Your wife had died just the year before, and she told me that you broke it off with her because you said you just weren't able to move on from your wife."
"That's right," he whispers as he stands up from his chair and runs a hand through his short, dark hair with silver streaking the temples. His back is to me and his shoulders are slumped. "But she wasn't pregnant."
"She was but didn't know it when you broke things off," I tell him. "She found out a few weeks later."
"She didn't tell me," he says as he turns on me. His eyes roam my face, perhaps trying to see if he sees anything of himself in me.
While I have my mom's coloring as well as her cheekb
ones and lips, I've stared at Brian Brannon's picture enough to know I've inherited his chin and nose. It's the same as Gray's, and I know this because I've stared at her picture too.
"Why didn't she tell me?" he asks, and finally I hear a bit of anger in his voice. I figured it would appear at some point, because let's face it, I just dropped a hell of a bomb in his lap and then detonated it.
"You made it clear to her that you didn't want a relationship," I tell him with my Brannon chin lifted in the air, and he actually winces at the reminder. "You broke her heart because you couldn't let her inside, and she didn't want to burden you further with a baby."
"A child never would have been a burden," he growls at me, even more pissed now. He takes two steps toward the chair and sits back down. He extends his hand...perhaps to take mine or perhaps to lay it on my shoulder again in a show of fatherly affection, but then decides against it, dropping it back down to the armrest. "Why are you just coming to me now?"
Good question. I'm twenty-six years old and meeting my father for the first time. I debated long and hard whether or not to do this, but as the months rolled by after my mom died, I couldn't stop thinking about Brian Brannon. I'd read everything I could about him and he seemed like a decent guy. And here I was, without any family left except a distant aunt and a handful of cousins I didn't know all that well, and I just wanted to have someone.
I was simply lonely.
And even more than that, I was always seeking the next grand adventure. I felt that Brian Brannon was a wondrous chapter just waiting to be read in my book of life.
I cough slightly to clear my throat. "I didn't know about you until just before my mom died. She was sick for a long time, and as the end was approaching, she told me about you. I was just as shocked as you are now."
"But you said she died ten months ago," he says softly.
I want to say I hear a slight degree of skepticism in his voice, but I don't see it in his eyes. I have no clue what he must be feeling, but I guess I'll find out sooner or later before I walk out of here. So I tell him the truth. "I was scared, to be honest. Not sure you'd believe me. Accept me. I moved to Raleigh from Hartford about three months after my mom died, but it never seemed the right time to approach you. I don't want anything from you, or Gray for that matter, but I just thought..."
My voice trails off, as I'm too terrified to put my desires out there. I'm strong, but I still have some fears, I guess.
He's having none of it, though. "Thought what, Lexi?"
"I don't want to mess your life up or anything," I assure him hastily. I see a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, but I keep barreling forward. "I was hoping...I don't know...maybe we could have dinner every once in a while."
"You want dinner?" he asks slowly.
Skeptically.
"I don't want your money," I snap at him, and feel tears start to sting my eyes.
Brian offers a sympathetic smile and then his hand is on my shoulder again, giving me a warm squeeze. "You want a family."
My head drops and I stare at my lap, blinking my eyes hard so I don't cry. I nod and say, "And you seemed like the type of man who would want to know."
Another squeeze to my shoulder, and when his hand falls away, I look over at him. He leans back in the chair and stretches his legs out, staring up at the ceiling. He expels a mighty breath of air from his lungs and murmurs, "Well, I have to say...I don't know that I've ever received such a shock before in my life."
Brian's head turns and his eyes come to rest on me. "I'm at a loss."
"I understand," I say quietly. "It was a shock when she told me too. I'd grown up thinking my father abandoned me. She'd never tell me anything about you, only that you left when she was pregnant."
"I swear I didn't know," Brian says as he sits up and leans toward me. "I swear to God I didn't know."
With a nod of understanding, I tell him, "I know. She admitted she never told you."
"I have to tell Gray," Brian says with a heavy sigh, and I can't tell if that's because I've just thrown him for a loop or because I've just complicated his life in a very bad way.
"I don't want to impose," I interject, all of a sudden more intimidated by the prospect of Gray knowing than Brian. I've read up on my half sister as much as I have on my father, and Gray Brannon is a powerhouse. Genius-level IQ, gorgeous, and driven. Frankly, she scares the crap out of me.
"You're not imposing," he says firmly. "It's just...this is going to be hard for her to take. She's pregnant, overworked, and I daresay, a bit emotional."
"We can take a paternity test," I blurt out, because even though he hasn't uttered a single word of doubt, he surely can't be taking everything I'm saying at face value. "In fact...I bought one at the drugstore and it's in my purse. I've already done my swab. You can do one too and we can send it off. It takes a few weeks for the results to come in."
Brian smiles at me and chuckles. "That's probably a good idea, but I can see you have my chin and nose. I also have no reason to doubt your mother. She was a good woman. I'm pretty sure I know what the results are going to be."
"I am really sorry for dropping this on you," I tell him again. "I thought about writing you, but I couldn't be sure you'd ever see it. So I thought face-to-face was the best."
He nods at me thoughtfully and then stands from the chair again. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"
A moment of panic surges within me; I'm afraid he's going to take me right down to Gray's office and introduce us. Still, I squeak out, "Nothing for a few hours. I have to be into work at 4 P.M."
"Good," he says as he leans across his desk and picks up his phone. He stabs a button, pauses, and then says, "Mary, cancel the rest of my appointments today."
When he hangs up the phone, he turns back to me and smiles warmly. "Come on...let's go take a drive and talk. I want to hear more about you."
"You do?" I ask, stunned he just canceled his appointments to spend time with me.
"Well, assuming that chin and nose you're sporting aren't coincidence and you're roughly twenty-six years of age, and given the fact you look just like your mother, outside of the chin and nose, I'm going to accept the fact you're my daughter. So yes, I'd like to learn more about you."
He then winks, and it drives away all of the nervousness and fear I'd been feeling.
I give him a tentative smile as I stand. The next chapter in my life is starting. "Okay. I can do that."
Chapter 3
Brian
I sit in Ryker and Gray's driveway, drumming my fingers on the wheel...trying to work up some courage to tell them about Lexi. And it pisses me off that this is remarkably hard to do. It shouldn't have to be hard.
On the one hand, my life changed drastically the minute Lexi walked into my office. Nothing is going to be the same again. Not for me, and not for Gray. But on the other hand, I'm filled with this amazing euphoria that I've got another daughter. I barely know her, and yet my soul recognizes her as part of me, as corny as that sounds.
We spent a few hours together, and while sometimes the conversation was awkward, most times it wasn't. I found Lexi to be bright, free-spirited, and funny. While she's independent to a certain extent, you can tell she clearly craves deep connections with people. No doubt she's been incredibly lonely since her mother died, and it's clear that she's hoping to develop a bond with her newfound family. I don't think she considers me a replacement, but I do think she might see me as a potential comfort to her existence.
The one thing that I believe to the depths of my soul is that Lexi isn't looking for any financial gain. To the contrary, she seems happy with her simple and modest life.
I was able to get a brief glimpse into it when she took me to The Grind, the coffeehouse where she works. I'd actually driven past it on a few occasions and had thought about going in a time or two, but I never seemed to have the time to stop.
We went in.
We had coffee.
We talked some more.
&n
bsp; My daughter--at least I believe she's my daughter--is nothing like me. And I mean that in a good way. She's down-to-earth; the type of person who could strike up a conversation with just about anyone. I tend to be a bit more reserved, and that's probably just due to the fact that I've always been a businessman first, and just a man second. But I watched Lexi talk to the customers--some of them she knew, others she didn't--at the curved bar that serves all kinds of coffees and teas, and she was genuinely engaged with all of them. More important, they were engaged with her. Drawn to her, actually.
Lexi is hilarious and witty. She can crack out a joke or whip out a pun during the middle of a deep conversation. Yet when she listens to you, she really listens. I'm not sure I've ever told a joke in my life, and while she had me laughing quite a bit, I kept thinking that I don't remember laughing like this before. It made me realize just how staid my life has become, all work and no play.
Finally, she's a free spirit. She goes where her mood takes her. While she was incredibly close to her mother, I learned that she was sort of a vagabond-like traveler, having lived in several places across the country. In addition to her hometown of Hartford, Connecticut, which is where I knew her mother, she's lived in Portland, Tucson, Little Rock, Nashville, and Pittsburgh. She's always worked in service-oriented fields like the coffee shop or as a bartender. Once she worked as a short-order cook at a diner in Nashville, but she said she was a horrible cook and then laughed about the fact she may have inadvertently given some of the customers food poisoning.
Bottom line: I was entranced by my daughter.
Before I brought her back to her car at the arena, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small box that contained the paternity test. Inside were two plastic tubes with flip caps that held cotton swabs. Hers already held her DNA, and all I had to do was rub the inside of my cheek on the other, mail it, and we'd have verification. I plan on doing that tomorrow and paying for express shipping, although it will be a few weeks before the results will be ready.
I expect they will tell me what I'd already figured out based on the timing of events with her mother and her classic Brannon chin and nose.
Lexi is my daughter.
Now I just have to break this news to my other daughter, and I don't quite recall ever being this nervous before. Gray and I are close. As close as a father and daughter can be. It's just been her and me for most of her life, and she's not just a chip off the old block.
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