Page 66 of Blindsided

“Should we?”

Lincoln was looking at the same question, and he nodded. “Might as well. I’ve read the bylaws front and back, thanks to a certain GM, and there is really nothing the league can do. I mean, the Grizzlies have an assistant coach and hockey director dating as well as players and a player and coach. Fraternization happens all over the place. And one of the old dudes from the meeting is married to some high-up executive who doesn’t seem to do anything but stand there and look pretty. If they want to throw a fit, I learned enough shady shit during that meeting that I could throw them all under the bus.”

My mouth hung open in shock. “Francis Lincoln Lewis-Barrington in action.”

He blushed. “You keep telling me this is my team. If it’s my team, I’m not going to live in fear of bigotry and a bunch of old men with too much freedom and time on their hands.”

I leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

He blushed. “I love you too.”

Tory broke our little moment by rubbing his hands together. “Then let’s do this thing! Easton, what’s your favorite thing?”

I shot a grin toward Lincoln. “Lincoln.”

CHAPTER 29

LINCOLN

As Tory, Daisy, and Trevor had predicted, the first-day-of-camp photos had gone viral almost immediately, from the expected responses of age, height, weight, and goals like Be An Asset to the Team to the unexpected responses like Conquer My Fear of the Dark and two point three years (the age of our newly minted stuffed mascot, Scowly). The pictures of the guys hugging him had drawn the largest numbers of likes, and fans and social media had eaten every picture up.

It had actually taken a few hours before an eagle-eyed fan had caught that Easton and I had mentioned each other in our favorites. The questions and speculation had poured in through social media platforms as well as traditional media outlets until we’d released a statement confirming our relationship.

Just as the Grizzlies had predicted, the outpouring of support for us had been overwhelming. I’d spent most of the day after the announcement in awe of all the kind messages pouring in. It had been at some point that evening that, for the first time, I’d actually felt like I belonged where I was.

That realization had led me to two weeks of working my ass off and loving every minute of it while managing to only give a passing glance to my cousin Jackson’s latest real estate fuckery. From the sound of it, the fallout was going to have a domino effect on the family business and he’d been barred from the office permanently. I just couldn’t find it in me to care. Not anymore. Not when I had an entire organization relying on me to make the right decisions, even when I didn’t know if there was a right decision to be made.

And though those difficult decisions had brought me nothing but stress and frustration, I was determined to make sense of them. Which was why I was sitting in my office after the last day of preseason staring at a contract so hard my eyes were crossing while deep in thought about what signing it would mean for not only the players but the organization as a whole.

Tom and Daisy were across the desk from me reviewing the same contract. It was the final offer going to Jack Springer. His early summer disasters had been left behind and he’d turned into a training camp powerhouse forward. The real question weighing on my mind was what the decision would do to our salary cap and, at the end of the day, the team.

Look at me, thinking about salary caps and team morale.

“If we sign the two-way to let him develop here, what happens to the team when the Grizzlies decide they want him?” We’d had a similar conversation about Owen, though that one had been a lot more straightforward because we’d all known Owen was temporary.

Tom nodded. “That’s my biggest concern. If the Grizzlies decide they want him in March and he’s been an anchor for us all along, it could throw a major wrench into team dynamics at a vital part of the season.”

Daisy hummed and nodded slowly. “I agree with Tom, but for me, I’m more worried about the budget issues a late season call-up could cause. If we spend all this money on his salary, and then in late February or March he gets called up, we’ve lost that budget all season and have very little left to fill his position. And if he gets called up because of a late-season injury, we aren’t going to get a player in return, so we have to find money in the budget to get someone to fill his spot.”

“Dammit!” I growled. “I don’t know what to do here.”

My phone rang and I didn’t think twice about answering it, fully expecting it to be Trevor, Tory, or even Easton. “Lincoln speaking,” I said, still distracted by the contract.

“Francis?”

The voice and name had me pulling the phone from my ear and staring at the screen blankly. “Mom?” I barely registered the shocked expressions on Tom’s and Daisy’s faces.

“Why are you going by Lincoln? I called the office and asked for Francis and no one knew who I was talking about.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she was already on to the next topic, clearly not interested in the answer. “I just wanted to let you know that Aston finally came to his senses and decided to sell the team. You are expected back here by Monday morning.”

I forgot all about the contract we’d been discussing, my attention completely on my mom and the call that had come so out of the blue I was struggling to make head or tail of it. “Wait, what? Sell the Parliament? He can’t do that!”

My mom sighed, a clear indication she thought the conversation was already finished. “Francis Barrington, it is your brother’s team. He can sell it if he wants. We should all be thankful he finally realized that it wasn’t a wise business move on his part.”

“I’ve been acting as the owner since May. I’ve built this team! I gave up my entire life for this team. I’m not leaving them now.”

“This is not up for discussion, Francis. I’m sure everyone will understand that you have other priorities. Barrington Holdings is not in the sports business. We are in the real estate business.”

---