Page 171 of The Blame Game

“He’s very sweet,” Gloria said, straightening the line on Dom’s IV. “How long have you been together?”

Shea tried to do the math to when Dom had first hired him. “Four years? Almost five, I think? It’s been a while. And we obviously had to keep things quiet for a long time.”

“Wow. I’m glad you two are able to be open about your relationship now.”

“Thank you,” Shea said hoarsely. “I appreciate that.”

“Well, I’ve taken his vitals and he’s doing great,” she said. “So I’m going to check on my other patients. You let me know if you need anything or if he wakes up and needs me, okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” Shea managed. “I will.”

For a long while, Shea sat by Dom’s bedside, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of Dom’s breath, the flutter of his lashes, and the color returning to his face.

Dom had been pale at first but he looked good now.

The surgeon had been all smiles when he came into the waiting room after the surgery, and had told Shea, Charlie, and August that everything had gone according to plan. There had been no issues with the stent and graft and Dom would stay in the hospital for a couple of days to be monitored.

Dom was now on the road to recovery.

Shea wasn’t sure he was going to survive Dom being all dazed and vulnerable from anesthetic and pain medication.

It reminded him a little of the night Dom had mixed his meds.

Which … that was another tick in the column of maybe Dom was telling the truth right now. Maybe it was only when his guard was down that he was able to say the things he kept so tight to his chest.

Or was that wishful thinking on Shea’s part?

Honestly, Shea wasn’t entirely sure that Dom would know love if it hit him in the face. Not that he didn’t love his teammates too but that was different.

He didn’t love easily, Shea was sure of that.

But there was no way to know how Dom felt, and all Shea could do was wait and see.

He’d been patient this long. He could be patient a little longer, right?

Half an hour later, Dom blinked again, smiling woozily up at Shea. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I am.” Shea set his phone on the bed next to Dom and smoothed a hand over his hair again.

Dom leaned into the touch.

“You’re so beautiful. Too good for me.” Dom’s eyes got a little wet.

“Hey, no,” Shea said. “Of course I’m not.”

“You’d never have looked twice at me if I hadn’t—”

Shea cleared his throat because he didn’t want Dom to start talking about hiring or paying him. Not when the hospital room door was open and anyone could walk by. “You do know I’ve had a hockey crush on you since your playing days in LA, right?”

“What?” Dom blinked, looking confused. “You did?”

Shea had honestly hoped to go to his grave with that information but if there was any time to tell Dom that, it was now when he might not remember it.

“Yeah, I was about seventeen when my dad and I went to a game in Toronto where they played LA. Your playing—fuck. You were on the opposing team but I still couldn’t take my eyes off you. Your skating and puck handling was so damn beautiful. At the time, I thought I was admiring your skills but now I don’t know. We had pretty good seats and I went down to the glass to watch warmups. I remember thinking you looked like a model out there, skating with no bucket on, your hair blowing in the breeze.”

Dom laughed. “Just a hockey player who liked to show off by not wearing a helmet.”

Shea dragged the side of his finger along Dom’s cheek. “A hockey player with beautiful eyes and great cheekbones and a stunning smile.”

---