Page 164 of The Blame Game

“Well, I guess now we know who the leak is,” Dom said with a sigh two days later.

He took a seat in Kate’s office, staring at her across the desk.

She nodded thoughtfully. “The fact that the JockGossip article came out before Birdie learned the news about your health at the baby shower does seem to rule her out as being the leak. Which focuses our attention on Mitchell.”

“That’s something. So what now?”

She cleared her throat, reaching for her water bottle. “Well, I don’t have a concrete plan yet. I’m meeting with several people in HR and the team’s legal department to discuss our options. Knowing he’s the likely culprit doesn’t prove it. While he can’t be fired at will, we may have some legal basis if we can prove he’s been leaking private information. We need that proof though.”

Dom nodded. “What can I do?”

Kate gave him a look. “Focus on your surgery and recovery so you can get back as soon as possible. This is my job to worry about. I understand you’re frustrated because you’ve been a target of theirs lately but—”

“It’s not that,” Dom admitted. “I just hate sitting here idly while someone does shit like this to the organization. To my team.”

“So do I!” Kate said. “But I am doing what I can to deal with it. I understand that you want this over with. I think we all do! But now that we have narrowed down the suspect list, there’s no real reason to rush on this. I can control the narrative during the post-season and then we can focus on it after when we all have more time and brain space to handle it.”

“True. I hate it, but you make a good point.”

“Yes, well, you’d think by now, you’d know I’m always right,” she said drily.

“And yet, we never learn, do we?” He grinned.

“Never!” She shot him a grin. “Seriously though, leave the sleuthing to me. Focus on your recovery and find something else to do to keep yourself occupied while you’re on LTIR.”

“Okay, okay,” Dom agreed.

“I still don’t know what class to take.” Dom sighed later that evening.

Shea raised an eyebrow. He’d propped himself against the arm of the sectional and, to his surprise, Dom had settled between Shea’s thighs with his back pressed to Shea’s chest and stomach.

The hockey game played quietly in the background, the sound of pucks and sticks and the goal horn a soothing white noise for both of them.

Shea had been reading a medical journal article titled Endovascular Treatment of a Superior Gluteal Artery Aneurysm on his tablet while Dom poked around the university’s online course offerings on his laptop.

Dom had done all of the registration and all he had to do was submit his course choice. Which seemed to be the sticking point.

“So, pick something at random,” Shea suggested. “You can certainly afford to take a few extra classes until you know what you’re actually interested in.”

He’d have killed for Dom’s budget when he was working multiple jobs to pay for his undergrad. He was tempted to remind Dom exactly what he’d done to pay for grad school but he held his tongue, not wanting Dom to worry that he resented it or regretted the decision.

“The money’s not the issue. I just don’t want to fail at this.”

“You’re not gonna fail,” Shea assured him, running his fingers gently through Dom’s mix of waves and little curls. They’d gotten all of the knots from River out and it was silky-soft against his fingertips. “And if you get stuck, I can help you or there are online advisors who can.”

“I just want to get this right.”

“Oh my God.” Shea laughed. “You’re making this into a huge deal. It’s a class! It won’t make or break the rest of your life.”

Dom grumbled. “I know but …”

“Give me that.” Shea reached out, plucking the laptop from where it rested on Dom’s thigh and skimming through the options. “If you can’t pick, I’ll pick for you.”

Dom let out a sputtering noise. “Don’t you dare—”

“Too late!” Shea hit Submit. “You’re signed up for Art History 101.”

“Art history!” Dom protested, craning his neck to look at Shea. “What the fuck do I know about art?”

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