Page 92 of The Blame Game

“Ron Baker. The sports psychologist for the team.” Dom let out a big sigh. “And I get it. They have to be sure I wasn’t actually trying to off myself. I just—shit, how many times do I have to say I’m not suicidal, I’m dumb?”

Despite the seriousness of the subject, Shea laughed. “Yeah, well …”

“No I get it. Honestly. I’m glad they’re asking because there have been guys who’ve gotten to bad places in their careers and ended it. It’s good that they’re looking out for it. But you know I fucking hate talking about shit to begin with and the whole thing makes me paranoid. What if what I say makes him think there’s something wrong with me?”

“Dom, there are plenty of things wrong with you. But not in the way you’re thinking.”

Dom laughed. “Fuck you.”

Truthfully, Dom could probably use a shitload of therapy. But Shea wasn’t about to say that. Baby steps.

“Look, I get that it feels weird at first but I saw someone after my knee stuff,” Shea offered. “It helps.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s an outside objective opinion and it’s their job to listen to you. To help you make sense of all the shit in your head.”

“You really think it works?”

“Absolutely.” Shea toed at a balance ball, making it wobble. “I was depressed, you know? It was hard giving up my dream. My whole fucking life had been working toward that one goal. Get drafted. Play in the NHL. That was my sole focus. And when that was gone …”

“Fuck.” Dom’s tone was heartfelt.

“Pretty much. I’m just saying … you’ve got some similar things looming in your future,” Shea said softly. “And as tempting as it is, you can’t ignore it. Or it will eat at you.”

“Yeah, well, with the way shit’s going with my back, I’ll have plenty of time to think about my future.” Dom sounded gloomy now. “I’m officially on LTIR until further notice.”

“Ahh fuck.” Long term injury reserve sucked. “So what’s the plan?”

“Testing.” Dom let out a big sigh. “They’ve already made a shitload of appointments for me.”

“You do realize most of my patients have to wait weeks if not months to get in for testing, right?” Shea pointed out. “And have to do all of the scheduling themselves.”

“True. I should be grateful.”

He shrugged. “Well, a little perspective never hurts.”

“I appreciate you reminding me when I’m being an ungrateful asshole.”

Shea laughed. “You may regret saying that in the future because now that I have your permission …”

“Ha-ha.”

Smiling, Shea untangled a few resistance bands hanging from hooks. “So anyway, I won’t be available this weekend. I am sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Shea dropped his voice, even though there wasn’t anyone around to hear.

“I don’t doubt that. I am sorry I’m not that much fun in the bedroom right now.”

“You think you aren’t fun? You think I didn’t have a good time the other night?”

“Well, no. I didn’t mean it like that. But …”

“Because I liked kissing you.”

For a moment, there was silence. “I liked it too,” Dom said gruffly.

No shit, Shea thought but he refrained from saying that aloud.

Dom was the most kiss-starved person Shea had ever met. Not that Shea was complaining … he was a fantastic kisser.

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