Page 56 of The Blame Game

“Any new symptoms?” Eddie asked.

“No.”

Should he tell Eddie about the numbness? Probably. Was he going to? Absolutely fucking not.

When Shea texted him that night, asking how he was feeling, Dom swiped out of the app, trying to ignore the flare of guilt that settled low in his stomach.

He wasn’t sure if he could lie to Shea about how bad he was feeling and he definitely knew that if Shea told him to see the team doc and admit everything, he’d probably do it.

He pulled a little plastic case with earplugs out, then cursed when he dropped one on the floor. It bounced on the carpet, then rolled under the bed.

It couldn’t have gone far. Hotel beds weren’t designed to allow it to, but the thought of getting on his hands and knees and searching for it suddenly seemed too exhausting to contemplate.

Instead, he rummaged in an inner pocket for the spare pair he kept tucked inside. His fingers brushed a small metal tin.

Frowning, he pulled it out. The orange logo on the front triggered a memory. It was something Shea had given him at the end of their disastrous playoff run last year.

It was a salve for pain and he’d used it a few times on a strained hamstring before he’d tucked it in his suitcase when he flew to Europe to spend a few weeks enjoying Italy, Greece, and Croatia.

It suddenly occurred to him that he probably shouldn’t have flown with it. In addition to some other healing herbs it had CBD oil that contained a small amount of THC. Not enough to get him high or anything, just enough to contain the medicinal properties.

But something that customs agents might not have liked if they’d found.

He winced at the thought.

And to think he’d been flying around Europe and all of North America without realizing it was in there.

He remembered Shea offering it, looking like he was expecting Dom to refuse it. But Dom had been willing to try anything that would offer him some relief.

It had worked pretty well before, so, with a shrug, Dom set the tin down.

He stripped off his tee, tugged his boxer briefs a little lower, then twisted off the lid, rubbing his fingertips against the salve. It was firm but softened with the warmth of his skin.

He rubbed some on his lower back and left glute, wishing Shea was here to give him a full massage.

When he’d rubbed it in the best he could, he dragged his underwear up and got in bed.

As he lay on his side, a pillow between his knees to take some of the pressure off, he studied the tin, feeling oddly sentimental about it.

He shouldn’t have ignored Shea’s earlier question. He should have answered it.

He patted the bed for his phone but it was nowhere in sight and he glanced over to see it on the dresser near his suitcase.

He swore but he was too comfortable to get up and do anything about it, so he clicked out the light.

He closed his eyes, breathing slowly and deeply, the muscles of his back gradually beginning to unclench. He thought of Shea’s strong hands, carefully working his tight muscles, and he suddenly wished he had Shea’s warmth in the bed beside him, Shea’s hand smoothing over his hip and his lips against the back of Dom’s shoulder.

They’d never slept like that before but Dom could picture it. Could feel it so vividly it felt like a memory.

Tin of salve still clutched in his fingers, he felt the last of the tension slip away and he slept.

Deeply, dreamlessly.

CHAPTER TEN

The following day, Dom gritted his teeth as he unlaced his skates after practice. The pain was worse than ever.

He’d pivoted during a drill, something he’d done a thousand times before, and felt a flare of pain that had made his head swim and his vision go white.

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