Page 73 of The Blame Game

Wait, no, Dom did remember something after the game. There were flashes of the flight from Chicago to Minnesota. He remembered checking into the hotel, his back and thigh aching.

Even the salve and ice hadn’t helped and he’d been desperate to get some sleep so he’d knocked on Dr. Strickland’s door.

But nothing beyond that. No matter how hard he strained to remember, there was a blank spot.

“Matty, maybe you should go back to your room now. Let me talk with Dom.”

Dom jerked in surprise at the sound of Dr. Strickland’s voice.

“The fuck is going on here?” Dom asked, shifting so he was propped up against the headboard.

Matty frowned but he got out of bed, patting Dom’s knee before he shuffled sleepily out of the room.

“Dom, do you remember anything about last night?” Dr. Strickland offered him a bottle of water and he took it with a murmured thank you.

“Not really?” He squinted, cracking the bottle open and chugging some. “I was benched for the game against Evanston and then we flew from there to Minneapolis, right?”

“Yes.”

“I think my back was especially bad last night,” Dom admitted. “And I got something from you for the pain, maybe?”

“You did. Do you remember anything else?”

“I came back to my room,” he said slowly. “But … no. I don’t remember anything except for that. What is going on?”

“Well, it appears you called a friend of yours last night. His name is … Shea, I believe. He’s a physiotherapist?”

“Ahh, yeah. We um, talk sometimes.”

Shit. Had Dom called to talk dirty, then fallen asleep on Shea or something? But why would he have gotten ahold of Dr. Strickland or Matty?

Hell, how had he gotten ahold of them?

“Well, he was concerned,” Dr. Strickland said. “You were slurring your words and he said you told him you had a couple shots from the minibar.”

“Yeah, I had hoped it would help me sleep. Look, what’s going on?” Dom demanded. “Did something happen?”

“Well, apparently the alcohol didn’t help you sleep because you also took a melatonin. And then used some CBD salve.”

“Sure. It’s been helping my back,” Dom said. “That’s not a problem, right?”

“Well, ordinarily, no. CBD can be very effective for reducing pain and inflammation. But since you didn’t disclose that or the alcohol or melatonin to me, I had no way of knowing that you shouldn’t have taken a muscle relaxer.”

Dom rubbed his head. “I still don’t understand.”

He listened as Dr. Strickland explained that all four of the things he’d used had combined in a way that had slowed his breathing and heart rate.

Dom felt sick as Dr. Strickland described him blearily knocking on Dustin’s door, barely able to stand upright.

“After speaking to Gilly and conferring with Pat Fleming and Kate Foster, we considered taking you to a hospital but ultimately decided to monitor you here. You weren’t in distress, per se. Matty and Dustin took turns staying with you and I monitored your breathing and heartrate.”

“Fuck!” Dom put his head in his hands, well aware of how bad this looked. The fact that they’d discussed it with the team’s GM made him feel even worse. “I didn’t … I wasn’t … I never meant for that to happen.”

“I know you’ve been going through a little bit of a rough time, Dom. Are you sure you didn’t realize—”

“No!” Dom protested. “This wasn’t … I wouldn’t do that. I fucked up. I made a dumb decision using all that at once but I—it wasn’t intentional. For God’s sake, you have to believe me.”

He’d felt weird after his talk with Zane, sure, but he hadn’t tried to do anything to harm himself. Just wanted the pain to go away and to get some good sleep and not lay awake staring at the ceiling.

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