The Dying Seconds: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Seven-and-a-half years earlier

Sean didn’t know endings had a sound. The paper-shuffling, murmured voices, throat-clearing, and box taping. All the soundtrack needed was an occasional clang of a metal locker and the smell of wet concrete to take him right back to the moments before he walked out of the Blizzard locker room for good.

He stepped around reams of copy paper ready to load onto the dolly, muttering under his breath. Sharing space with another startup had seemed like a great idea when they set sail. Now it was just another stab of indignity. Their neighbors were still thriving, still holding their Friday foosball tournaments, while his team was dismantling desks and bubble-wrapping monitors.

Mason appeared at his shoulder, matching his stride, with his laptop tucked under his arm. “She’s here. On her way to conference room three.”

Sean grunted. “And you’re here because?”

“You’re better with people.”

Sean almost smiled. “Hilarious.”

Mason flashed a cheesy grin. “That’s why you married me.”

Sean slowed and grabbed a pile of power strips from the ground. “Is there a reason you can’t do this?”

“I need to get on the phone with the bank.”

Sean raised an eyebrow, and Mason had the decency to look sheepish. “Fine.”

Mason exhaled with relief as resentment crawled up the back of Sean’s neck. He loved the guy, but Mason was the king of finding an alibi the second a task came up that wasn’t his cup of tea.

But it was Mason who had vouched for him back when no one wanted to take a chance on an ex-hockey player with a patchy résumé. Mason, who understood what they were both missing after leaving their teams. Mason, who welcomed him into this rag-tag group with open arms and gave him a new team.

If it had been anyone else, Sean would’ve walked months ago, cashed out what was left, and saved himself the humiliation of watching their work get sold off piece by piece. But Mason asked, and that was the difference. You didn’t bail on the guy who’d stood by you when you were nothing. Even if it meant sticking around in a sinking ship long enough to make sure your friend got to the lifeboat first.

“Thanks, bud.” Mason clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I would—” He stopped mid-sentence, and it only took Sean a split second to figure out why.

A woman with a smooth hourglass figure, tight pants, and dark hair layered in waves down her back stood at the end of the aisle peering at the glass in front of her. Conference room three. That was the woman he was meeting with?

Mason’s grip tightened as he pushed off Sean, bolting forward, but Sean saw it coming. He’d already grabbed the back of Mason’s pants and yanked.