Chapter 13

“Sir!” The man shouts and I blink. “Eric!”

Surprise. Shock. Familiarity.

I blink again, trying to focus. I study the blond hair in my fist and I’m bewildered, then stunned.

“Jimmy.” My hand falls to his shoulder. Something grips my ribcage from the inside and begins to wind my heart into a knot. I step back and wait for him to turn. When he does, he remains plastered against the wall as if his body weight is too much for his feet. I suck back a breath, he stares at me without speaking, and the only thing I seem to be capable of saying is his name.

“Jimmy…”

Suddenly it’s New Year’s Eve, two years ago, and the three of us—Mark, Devin, and I—have just completed one of the most expensive land purchases of our business’s history. It’s beachfront, prime, and we’ve been more or less handed the property because, to quote the bizarre but lovely crone we’ve bought it from, “Some people just feel right. And you, young men, feel right to me.”