Page 46 of The Blame Game

So maybe this wasn’t quite the huge, splashy gift Dom had initially imagined.

Dom stared blankly at the guys warming up, wondering why he’d leapt to the assumption that Rogers was someone who Shea’d had sex with. Even if they had known each other through Select, he still could’ve hired Shea for image consultation.

Why had Dom’s brain gone to Rogers being an escort client immediately? Why did the thought bother him? He knew damn well Shea slept with other men. It had never bothered him before.

Dom rose to his feet—the conversation Shea and his friends were having abruptly breaking off.

“Hey. You okay?” Shea asked.

“Yeah.” Dom smiled tightly at him. “Just … I’m gonna grab a drink from the lounge.”

Shea’s mouth tightened, and Dom wondered if he was biting back a lecture on his drinking.

“I’m not on the Toradol right now and it’s been a few days since my last shot,” he assured Shea.

“Good,” Shea said, a little of the tension easing. “How about OTC painkillers?”

“I haven’t taken any today.”

Shea held his gaze. “Okay.”

Truthfully, Dom’s back was fucking killing him but he was being good. Tomorrow, he’d probably have to get another shot but he’d wanted to be able to enjoy celebrating Shea’s birthday. To fully participate.

“Anyone want anything?” Dom asked the group, finally looking away from Shea’s sharp gaze.

“I could use a water,” Myles said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Sure. No problem,” Dom said. “I’ll be back in a few.”

As he walked away, he wondered what the hell he was doing. Medication aside, he shouldn’t be drinking this much tonight. He couldn’t afford to be tired and sluggish for the game tomorrow.

But as he glanced back and saw Travis make a particularly showy basket, then wink at Shea, he had a feeling this probably wouldn’t be his last drink of the night.

As they left the arena and walked to the curb to wait for the driver, Shea frowned at Dom’s back. He was deep in conversation with Myles, paying Shea no attention at all, but he’d seemed … odd all night.

Had it been since they arrived at the arena? Maybe? Shea couldn’t be sure. He’d certainly seemed closed-off when they were talking with Travis.

Shea blinked. Dom hadn’t … he hadn’t thought that Travis was one of his escort clients, had he? That was ridiculous. Dom didn’t get jealous. He’d never once seemed to have an issue with the idea that he wasn’t the only person Shea saw regularly.

Was it only because he’d never been forced to see that person? To acknowledge it?

If he had been jealous, was it the idea of Shea and Travis having sex that bothered him? Or some ridiculous, primal male territorial thing? That seemed unlikely but man … that would explain a lot.

It wasn’t racism, Shea felt confident of that.

He’d once heard Dom go on a rant about some asshole fan who’d made a horrible comment to his teammate, Jordan Stokes. Dom had spoken highly of Stokes many times and they regularly hung out away from the team. Besides, Dom wasn’t that kind of guy.

It felt like … jealousy. Was it that Travis was younger and in the prime of his career?

Shea stifled a groan. God, he was ridiculous. He was seeing jealousy because he wanted it to be there. Wanted Dom to care enough about him to be jealous.

“Shea?” Dom said. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

In the back seat, Myles and Ethan chatted excitedly about the game, talking about the fact that they’d been allowed back to meet some of the players after and had gotten a few autographs, including ones from Travis.

Travis had asked them if they’d wanted to grab drinks after. Dom had declined, citing his own game tomorrow, and Ethan had said he needed to get home to his family.

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