Page 185 of The Blame Game

Dom trailed his fingertips across Shea’s lips. “I need to say it too though, don’t I?”

Shea shrugged, smiling a little. “It’s nice to hear, yeah.”

“Then I’ll say it more. You deserve everything,” Dom whispered. “Everything good in the world.”

Shea blinked, emotion welling up at Dom’s heartfelt words. “What I want is you.”

“You have me.”

“Do I?” Shea asked. “Are we …”

“Yes. Stay here. Or we’ll find a new place together, just stay with me and love me and—”

“I like it here.”

Dom smiled. “Then we’ll stay here. I’ll finish this season and I’ll go back to school and get a degree and maybe someday I’ll get a position in the Fisher Cats’ head office. But most importantly, I’ll come home to you.”

Wonder settled over Shea, dizzying him with possibilities. “That’s what you want?”

“That’s what I want. Will you say yes?”

“Yes,” Shea whispered. “Yes, of course. That’s what I want too.”

“I’d like to take you to Paris this off-season,” Dom said softly. “And I was thinking, maybe we could go to Burgundy too. So you can meet my mother.”

“I’d love that.” Shea bit his lip. “There’s just one problem with you meeting my parents though.”

Dom arched an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You’re going to have to win another Cup first.”

Laughing, Dom pushed Shea down onto the mattress. “Well, I guess if it’ll get me in good with your parents …”

“Fuck, I love you,” Shea said thickly, as much because he finally could as anything else.

Dom’s eyes glowed as he pressed a kiss to Shea’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “I love you too, Shea Barnett,” he whispered against his lips.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Dom walked toward his stall, game sticks clutched in his hand. He couldn’t stop smiling as he reached for his tape.

He deftly wrapped it around the blade, then ripped it from the roll.

God it was good to be back.

It was only the first round of the playoffs so they still had a long way to go, but Boston’s goaltending had been garbage so far and a couple of their guys were out with injuries.

The Fisher Cats were—Dom rapped on the side of his stall—in much better shape than they’d been last season.

Everyone was as healthy as could be expected for this time of year—which was to say a little battered and bruised but overall in good shape—and now Dom was back in the lineup.

Despite his hope that he’d be back before the end of the regular season, he hadn’t quite managed that.

Shea had been a huge help with his rehab and conditioning though and Dom had returned to play sooner than the cardiovascular surgeon, the team doc, or the trainers had anticipated.

There had been a few “fuck you for making me do this” moments as he sweated and white-knuckled his way through the training sessions required to get him ready to come back.

But he’d done it.

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