Page 173 of The Blame Game

“It’s also horribly embarrassing.”

“Yes, yes.” Shea laughed, patting his chest. “You’re my emotionally repressed oyster, baby.”

Dom lowered his arm to glare at Shea. “Seriously?” Although he didn’t hate the slightly possessive tone when Shea called him his.

“You called yourself that last night!”

“Ugh.” Dom returned to covering his eyes. “You know, I don’t think I like you very much right now.”

Shea chuckled. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“I didn’t say anything else, right?” Dom asked with a frown. “I know I talked all sorts of nonsense after my previous surgeries.”

When Shea didn’t answer, he lowered his arm and looked at him. Shea had his head turned so he was looking out the window.

“Shea?” Dom asked.

He shook his head. “No. You didn’t say anything else.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Shea stuck the salad in the refrigerator, then turned to check on Dom. He was still pacing in front of the wall of windows overlooking Lake Ontario.

The past few weeks since his surgery had flown by and although Shea knew Dom was desperate to get back on the ice, he’d been a model—if a little grumpy—patient. He was diligent about his PT and tolerated the restrictions. He didn’t like them, but he endured them with little more than some muttered grumbles.

He’d thrown himself into the art history course with a vengeance and while he’d needed help with studying and memorization techniques, he’d been plenty open to suggestions and willing to ask for help.

Shea was incredibly proud of him.

But as much as Dom was chafing to get back on the ice, Shea didn’t think that was why Dom was so anxious this evening.

He walked over and wrapped his arms around Dom’s waist, pressing his cheek to his hair. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No.” Dom threaded their fingers together and pulled Shea’s arms tighter around him. “Should we have met my dad for dinner at a restaurant rather than having him come here?”

“You wanted privacy to talk to him,” Shea reminded him.

Dom slumped against his chest. “True.”

“Hey,” Shea said softly. “I know how fucking scary this is. Maybe not to the same degree, but I’ve been where you are. I know how anxious I got the first time I saw my parents after years of estrangement. Just remember, if it goes badly, we’ll ask him to leave.”

“True.” Dom dragged in a deep breath and Shea could feel the tension leave his body as he let the air out slowly. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got your back,” he whispered and Dom turned in his arms.

“I know that. Shea … I honestly don’t know how I would have made it through the past few months without you. And I don’t mean the PR stuff or the surgery. Everything. I couldn’t have—”

“You could have,” Shea told him. “But I am glad you let me be here for you, Dom. I—I care about you so much.”

“I care about you too.” Dom brushed their lips together. “And I wish I was better at saying that.”

“Hey,” Shea said, smoothing his hair off his face. “I knew what I was getting into. I know why none of this comes easy for you. I can be patient.”

“Yeah, but …” Dom swallowed. “I want—”

Dom’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Fuck! That’s probably him. We’ll talk more later?”

---