Page 8 of Blindsided

I’d already said too much. “Actually, I’m in Nashville.”

I swore I could hear the way Brax’s eyes widened when he gasped into my ear. “Nashville? What the fuck? I talked to you yesterday and you were in Columbus, hadn’t even said anything about coming here! And why the hell are you at a hotel instead of at our house?”

“Aren’t Doms supposed to be calm, cool, and collected?”

“Psssh. That’s only when your best friend isn’t somewhere he isn’t supposed to be and when that somewhere turns out to be the same city you live in!”

Groaning, I said the most logical thing I could think of at the moment. “Your dad.”

That clearly wasn’t the right response because it sent Brax into a tailspin of rapid-fire questions I couldn’t make head or tail of fast enough to answer.

“Dad? Or Leo? Why? Are you okay? Are they okay? Is he okay? Which one am I talking about? Why my dad? Fuck. East, what’s going on?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to figure out how to calm Brax down. “Your dads are fine. Both of them. It’s me you really should worry about.”

To my surprise, Brax growled, a low, throaty sound that managed to give me pause. “What hotel are you at?”

“The Barrington.” It made sense since Aston Barrington was the owner. At least I thought he was the owner. For the last two hours, every time I’d thought about the morning it had brought more questions than answers. I’d officially reached my limit of answerless questions I could think up.

Brax went unhelpfully silent, allowing my brain even more time to focus on Lincoln and why he’d walked into the office that morning.

“Okay, get your ass to the lobby.” Brax’s voice cut into my thoughts and I jolted, letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak in the process. He let out a scoff and I knew he was rolling his eyes at me. “I’m texting you the rideshare info now. It will be there in ten minutes. Bring your bags. You’re not spending the night in a hotel when you can spend the night here in the spare room that’s still made up from the last time you were here.”

His voice was still low and authoritative and while I wasn’t submissive in any way, I knew he meant business. I also knew he wouldn’t hesitate to wake Trevor up and drag him downtown to pick my ass up if I didn’t do as he said. The last thing I wanted was to wake his boy, so I got up to pack my bag. Not that it would take long. I’d only gotten my laptop out and hadn’t bothered changing out of the suit I’d shown up to the meeting in.

Despite Brax not being able to see me, I saluted and tried to lighten the mood. “Yes, Sir!”

“Fuck you. Just text me when you’re in the car.”

I dropped the sarcasm. “Will do. Thanks, B.”

“Don’t thank me yet. When you get here, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

Hopefully, that included a lot of alcohol too.

“I’ve got your favorite whiskey in the cabinet,” he said as though he could read my mind. “Whatever you’re going through, I suspect it’s going to need a lot of liquor.”

“Truer words have never been spoken. Now, if you want me to be downstairs when the car arrives, I need to stop talking to you.”

We said goodbye and I headed down a few minutes later. I’d just stepped out of the elevator when my phone pinged and a message from Brax appeared, telling me my ride was pulling up. I didn’t bother checking out with the front desk and headed toward the door and to the blue SUV pulling up.

A quick confirmation that she was the driver I was expecting, and we were off to Brax and Trevor’s house in silence. The trip didn’t take long, but it was enough that I was able to think more about the morning, once again coming up with more questions and fewer answers. I was still struggling to believe I’d come face-to-face with Lincoln Lewis—What had he called himself? Francis? If he was Francis, who the hell was Lincoln?

I rubbed at my forehead and let out a groan.

“You puke in the car, it’s gonna cost you two hundred bucks!” The driver spoke with a note of annoyance that showed she was well-versed in vomit removal from vehicles. I wasn’t going to think about that for too long because it would make me queasy. “No concerns there. It’s just been a long day.”

She scoffed as she pulled to a stop in front of a house I knew well. “And it’s barely one in the afternoon. Hate to break it to you—the day is barely half over.”

I groaned again and let my head fall back against the seat. “Do me a favor, just keep driving.” The ride hadn’t been long enough for me to figure anything out and I still had no idea what I was going to say to Brax.

My request hadn’t come fast enough because she let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “Um, I would, but I think the man on the front porch looking irritated might chase me down. Sorry, buddy, you’re on your own with this one.”

A glance toward the front door showed Brax standing there with a pinched expression on his face while his dog, Gretzky, ran circles around his legs. “He just looks mean. He’s only worried.”

She nodded once. “Good friend, then.” Her phone pinged and she looked at the dash. “Good tipper too.”

That sounded like Brax. “Thanks for the ride.” I opened the door and climbed out just as the back hatch began to open.

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