Page 183 of The Blame Game

“And I’m pretty sure this chair isn’t going to hold four hundred pounds of weight for too much longer.”

“Probably not.” Hopefully if it collapsed, he wouldn’t end up with another fucking aneurysm.

“Seriously, are you okay, baby?” Shea dragged his blunt nails across Dom’s scalp and he shuddered at the sensation.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Dom sighed, leaning into the touch.

He told Shea everything his father had said and when he was done, he could still hardly believe it was all true.

“Uhh.” Shea blinked. “Okay. Well, that’s fucked up.”

“Yep.” Dom leaned his forehead against Shea’s shoulder for a moment. “I’m pretty sure I’m the most emotionally healthy person in my family.”

“Well, that’s terrifying.”

“Tell me about it,” Dom said drily.

Dom had slept restlessly, so Shea wasn’t surprised when he woke first.

He watched Dom for a few minutes, the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing and the warmth of his body lulling Shea into a drowsy state of contentment.

But eventually, the urges of his bladder won out and he slipped into the bathroom to take care of them and brush his teeth. While he was up, he brewed coffee and fixed it the way Dom liked it.

The smell, or maybe the sounds of him moving around, must have woken Dom because when Shea set a mug on his nightstand, Dom stretched, yawning.

“Morning.” Dom reached out, pulling him down to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Morning, baby. I made you coffee.”

“You spoil me.” Dom got out of bed, his hair wild, his eyes still half-lidded. Possibly a little hungover. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

Since neither of them had to be anywhere this morning, Shea settled with his back against the headboard, sipping his coffee.

He smiled as Dom stumbled toward the bathroom, still looking half-asleep but lighter. Happier. More at ease.

Some of it was the pain relief of course. Now that the aneurysm was no longer pressing on crucial nerves, the pain and numbness had dissipated. Dom didn’t hold himself so stiffly and the imbalance in his hips was going away.

He wasn’t getting muscle spasms anymore and he moved more freely.

But Shea knew a lot of Dom’s current mood had to do with the talk he’d had with his father last night. Shea still couldn’t believe how fucked up the whole situation with Dom’s parents had been.

But clearing the air was obviously something Dom had needed.

Dom looked a little more alive when he returned to the bedroom, his hair tidied and his breath minty-fresh as he pressed a kiss to Shea’s hair, then settled on the bed beside him, stretched out on his side.

“Come here. I want to talk to you about something.”

Shea raised an eyebrow but set his mug on the nightstand and slid down so he mirrored Dom’s position. Dom clasped his hand and looked him in the eye.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Shea frowned. “For what?”

“For being there for me all of the times I needed you.”

“That’s what you do for someone you care about,” Shea said, squeezing Dom’s hand.

Dom’s swallow was audible. “I know. And that’s why I need to say this. It’s been hard for me to get the words out because—because of a lot of things, but you need to know it now. I love you.”

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