Page 9 of The Blame Game

Pathetic, man, Shea thought to himself, sighing as he opened the cupboard door to see what pans were available.

Thankfully, the apartment came furnished and fairly well stocked with kitchen supplies, so Shea was able to throw together a passable dinner.

When Shea set two wide, shallow bowls on the nightstand, along with forks and bottles of water, Dom lowered his hand, squinting at him. “Huh. Smells good.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Shea shot back. “Hey, do you think you can sit up?”

“Yeah, the ice and meds are doing their job.” Dom groaned quietly and pulled the icepack out from under him, flinging it away to land at the foot of the bed.

“Good.”

Shea bit his lip to keep from reminding Dom to be careful, but he took it slow, shifting into position against the headboard, then propping himself up with a pillow.

Dom helped himself to a bowl and dug in, casually unconcerned by his nudity.

“This is good.” He sounded surprised. “I had no idea you could cook.”

Shooting him an amused smile, Shea took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Why are you so shocked?”

“I dunno. But now I’m wondering, how much extra is this gonna cost me?”

Shea froze, not sure how to answer that, and Dom laughed. “I was kidding. I mean, I’ll pay extra for your physiotherapy skills but …”

“Oh, but my cooking isn’t worth paying for?” Shea fired back.

“Ehh. Seems like one of those perks that should be included in your list of services.” Dom smirked.

Shea hated the smug little look on Dom’s face but he was soft for it too, so he shoveled some fried rice into his mouth before he said something stupid.

Dom took a bite too and it was all business after that.

“How’s your back feel?” Shea asked when his bowl was empty.

Dom shrugged, setting his own bowl aside. “Better.”

“You sure you shouldn’t be on injured reserve for a bit?”

“No,” Dom said flatly. “I mean, I’m sure I should be on IR but I’m not going to do it unless it gets so bad I can’t skate.”

Shea resisted the urge to bang his head against the nearest flat surface. Hockey players!

“Will you let me give you a massage before you head out tonight?” Shea asked.

“If you want.”

Shea rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Dom. It’s my secret life’s purpose and I’ve been waiting for you to give me the nod.”

Dom cracked a smile. “Well, wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Shea stifled a sigh. And to think he was in love with this guy.

He truly was a Grade A idiot.

A shrill noise dragged Dom from sleep.

He sat up, wincing at the pull in his back. He looked around, head still a little foggy.

Where was he? Were they on the road? He frowned, confused, trying to make sense of the noise and the dim shapes in the room.

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