Page 137 of The Blame Game

There were little heart and pride flag emojis beside it and Dom felt a pang of guilt. Not for Shea but for Christian.

Fuck.

This was what he’d denied him all those years ago.

Yeah, Dom had been desperate for his privacy but he’d never considered Christian’s feelings about it. How much he’d probably wanted to share his feelings. Just because Dom wasn’t the type who felt the need to gush to the world about the person he was with didn’t mean other people didn’t.

Hell, most people seemed to want that.

And Dom had been the asshole who’d demanded Christian keep him a secret from not just the public, but his friends and family.

Dom felt a little dizzy with the sudden realization of how fucked up that had been. How unhealthy and wrong.

There was privacy and then there was whatever that shit was.

“Dom?” Shea said softly.

He blinked and looked up.

“Is that okay? I can take another shot or reword it or, hell, you can totally rewrite it if you want.”

“No,” Dom said gruffly, handing the phone back. “That’s good. That’s what you should post.”

“Okay,” Shea said softly, his brows drawn together. “If you’re sure.”

Dom looked into his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m sure.”

After it was done, Dom helped Shea continue unpacking and settling in.

He seemed hesitant to put framed photos of him and his family in the living area or take up space in the bathroom, but Dom encouraged it.

“Do you still play?” he asked, surprised when they got to the living room where Shea’s hockey bag and sticks waited.

Shea gave him a little shrug. “Sometimes. I don’t play beer league or anything but occasionally I’ll meet up with buddies and play a little shinny.”

Dom smiled.

God, he loved informal pond games. Playing in the NHL was thrilling beyond belief. The two times he’d lifted a Cup over his head were the single greatest moments of his life.

But the quiet joy of skating on a pond with friends, feeling the warm sun and cool breeze on his face, hearing the laughter and chirping, that was pure love.

“I think there’s room for you to store your gear in the laundry area with mine,” Dom offered. “Let me show you.”

Most of Dom’s equipment stayed with the team, of course, but he had two pairs of skates and a couple of sticks and some pads that were his personal belongings.

He made space for Shea’s, and when their sticks were lined up together, Dom gestured at it. “Maybe you should have taken a photo of that.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Shea said with a wistful little smile.

But Dom didn’t think it had anything to do with social media or the situation they were in.

“We could have been teammates, maybe,” he said, pressing his shoulder against Shea’s. “If things had gone differently for you.”

Shea let out a shuddering sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe we could have.”

And Dom didn’t know what to say to that, so he turned and wrapped a hand around Shea’s arm for a moment, squeezed it, then walked into the living room to tackle the rest of the boxes.

Although the unpacking wasn’t particularly difficult or complicated, it was a little awkward.

---