Page 7 of Blindsided

The dull throb behind my eyes had turned into a full-blown migraine that had me reaching for my sunglasses and bottle of migraine meds my doc had refilled the day before. Meds taken, sunglasses on, and ten minutes of deep breathing later, I exited my car and made my way back into the building.

After swiping my keycard, I pressed the button to the twenty-second floor and spent the next forty seconds trying to gather my thoughts. When I stepped out of the elevator, the office was deserted, the only sound my footsteps on the marble floor as I walked toward the office door still emblazoned with my brother’s nameplate and pushed the door open.

“I’m sorry for leaving like that. You shocked the hell out of me.” I opened my eyes and was met with gray hair and the eyes of a man who was most certainly not Easton Lafferty. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

The man looked at me quizzically. “Tom Cernak. Who are you?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Lincoln… err, Francis Barrington.” Looking around the room, I quickly noted Easton was nowhere to be seen. “Um, did I dream that Easton was here earlier?”

Tom’s barked laugh vibrated my eardrums and sent a wave of nausea coursing through my body. I winced at the pain and his laugh quieted immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Migraine,” was all I offered in response.

“Shit, sorry.” Blessedly, Tom’s voice went even quieter. “Come on, take a seat. I’ll turn off the lights.” He directed me toward the couch, one my brother must have chosen because it was ostentatious and gaudy, but it was still soft and I felt some of the tension in my back ease as I sank into it and closed my eyes. A few seconds later, the room went dark and I tentatively cracked my eyes open to find the only light in the room coming from a few cracks in the curtains covering the windows.

Letting out a relieved sigh, I took the sunglasses off and searched in the dim light for the man who had introduced himself as Tom Cernak, the head coach I’d been expecting. When my eyes fell on him a few feet to my side, I gingerly angled my body his way and studied him closely. “Was I seriously not dreaming that I saw Easton here?”

Tom walked slowly toward the chair next to the couch, his head shaking as he walked, though I couldn’t decide if it was in disbelief or an answer to my question. “He was here,” he said after taking a seat. “Left a few minutes after you ran out of here. Can’t say I’ve ever seen him so… I don’t know if mad is the right word, but he definitely wasn’t happy.”

I let out a groan, the wave of nausea settling back into my stomach and threatening to make the plain bagel I’d had that morning reappear. “I knew I hadn’t made that up.”

The man across from me settled back into the chair and placed his right ankle over his left knee. “So, care to tell me how you two know each other?”

He looked so at ease, I couldn’t help the words that came from my mouth. “You would make a much better owner than me.”

Tom shook his head. “I think my fiancé would have my head if I bought a hockey team. Coach was a hard enough sell.”

“At least you know something about hockey.”

He hummed in understanding. “True. But I played professional hockey for well over a decade and my son’s a Grizzly. I’d hope I know something about it.”

Tom was the first person who had talked to me like I was a human and not someone who could earn them money, take their money, or jump when they said since I’d met Bodhi. The only other person I’d ever had like that was the man I’d run out on, twice. Tom had taken the time to close the curtains and turn off the lights and had been considerate enough to speak quietly when he’d discovered I was dealing with a thumping migraine. Those things were enough for me to be willing to spill my life story to him.

Leaning forward in spite of the pain in my stomach, I leveled him with all the seriousness I could muster. “I’m a real estate guy. I haven’t watched a game of hockey since… since…” I wasn’t going to say that it had been since I’d watched Easton in college. That was a can of worms I was unwilling to open just yet. “Well, for a long time. Last month I was in New York closing a multimillion-dollar deal that will earn the family hundreds of millions over the next decade. Last week I was closing a lucrative retail contract for that space. This week, I’m here in Nashville trying to figure out hockey because my brother is incapable of making a good decision and despite all his past fuckups, my mom will bend over backward for him. When he can’t handle what he’s taken on, it then becomes my problem to deal with and fix.”

“I’m sorry, Francis. That’s no way to live.” Tom said the words casually, with an understanding I wished my mom had. I was pretty sure my dad had it, but he had married into the family’s fortune. Not having been raised with it, he didn’t hold the power to tell my mom or grandfather to take a hike.

“Lincoln, please.” My friends called me Lincoln and for some reason, I was hoping Tom and I could forge a friendship. “And it sucks, but it’s the curse of the second born. My dreams and aspirations will forever be Barrington Holdings and my career will be whatever the hell my mom or grandfather decide that day.”

“Does this all have something to do with why Easton stormed out of here?”

I groaned as the nausea finally got the better of me and I ran for the door, hoping like hell there was a bathroom nearby.

CHAPTER 4

EASTON

“Hello?” The phone had only rung for a split second before Brax answered in a whisper.

“Trev sleeping?”

Brax gave a breathy chuckle. “Yeah. Dead to the world, actually. He fell asleep on the floor about forty minutes ago.” As he spoke, I could hear him moving around until the telltale sound of a sliding door closing echoed over the line and Brax began to speak normally. “What are you doing?”

“Staring at my hotel room wall.” I didn’t know how much I could tell Brax, despite wanting to tell him everything. I didn’t know if I was still going to be offered the assistant coaching position, and my reservations from the night before had only amplified when Lincoln had walked into the room, then run out like I’d bitten him.

I didn’t bite. Not without permission, at least.

“Hotel? Why are you in a hotel? Where are you?”

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