Page 174 of The Blame Game

“Yeah.” Shea pressed his lips to Dom’s forehead and let them linger. “I’ll be here. Whenever you need me.”

Dom’s throat felt thick as he rode the elevator to the first floor.

At first, when Dom had broached the idea of inviting his father over for dinner, Shea had asked if he should leave. He’d offered to go do something with one of his friends while Dom talked to his father.

But Dom had immediately rejected that idea. He’d wanted Shea there. A little bit as a buffer and as emotional support, but mostly because he wanted his father to meet Shea.

And that said everything about how Dom felt about Shea, didn’t it?

Dom sighed. For weeks, he’d wanted to tell Shea that, wanted to talk about what this all meant. He’d planned to wait until after the season was over. After the PR shit was over.

But since Dom’s surgery, he’d felt Shea looking at him sometimes, like he was waiting for Dom to say something. And when he didn’t, he’d turned away and looked almost sad.

The last thing Dom wanted was to hurt Shea in any way.

He believed Shea when he said that he could be patient. That he understood Dom. But that didn’t mean Dom was doing enough for him. That didn’t mean Shea didn’t deserve more of him.

So although Dom would have liked to keep on the way they were going without ever saying the words aloud, he knew he needed to tell him how he felt. Needed to tell Shea that he was everything Dom needed and wanted. That Dom’s life was better with him in it.

And Dom’s only regret was that it had taken a PR disaster to get them to this point.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to step up and be the man Shea deserved.

Dom had talked about it all with Ronnie at his latest therapy session and his first step was facing his father head-on and dealing with his entire fucked-up family situation.

He couldn’t keep ignoring it.

The elevator dinged and when the doors parted, they revealed a handsome, silver-haired man pacing the lobby. He glanced up and the look of relief on his face said everything.

He’d missed Dom.

And Dom’s throat went thick because it hit him how much he’d missed his father too. As angry as he’d been, as complicated as their relationship was, Dom had missed him.

Kurt Olson hadn’t changed a whole lot. He was still fit and muscular and had a small limp from an ankle injury that had never healed quite right.

He stilled as Dom approached.

“Dom,” he said hesitantly, reaching out, then letting his hand fall to his side.

“Dad. You look well.” Though there were a lot more lines on his face than the last time Dom had seen him.

Kurt smiled. “You too. You look more like your mother every year.”

How would you know? Dom thought. You haven’t seen either of us in twenty years.

But saying that aloud wouldn’t help. “How was the drive here?” he asked instead, turning toward the elevators.

“Oh, fine,” Kurt replied. “Traffic wasn’t bad until I hit Toronto.”

They made awkward small talk on the ride up to the eleventh floor, then down the corridor to the condo.

Shea was in the kitchen, arranging some of the appetizers. He had cooked most of the dinner while Dom had used his rather limited skills to help. Dessert was from their favorite bakery.

Shea looked like he belonged there and Dom was hit with the sudden thought that he never wanted Shea to leave. He wanted to ask Shea to move in for good. Stay forever. Never leave him.

Shea turned to face them, his gaze immediately going to Dom’s face. Probably checking in to be sure he was okay.

“Dad.” Dom cleared his throat. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Shea Barnett. Shea, this is my father, Kurt Olson.”

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