Page 67 of The Blame Game

Shea hit Accept on the call. “Hey? You okay?”

“Shea.”

“Yeah? What’s going on?”

“Can’t sleep.” Dom yawned, as if to prove otherwise.

“You sound pretty sleepy,” Shea pointed out, smiling, relaxing a little since it clearly wasn’t an emergency.

Being unable to sleep wasn’t usually something that prompted Dom to call him. Occasionally he’d text to see if Shea was awake and Shea would talk him through jerking off but even that wasn’t the norm.

“Yeah. I’m on IR, you know?” Dom’s sigh was mournful. “They won’t let me play.”

“I know. I saw you in the press box. How’s your back feeling?”

“You watched the game?”

“Yeah. I missed the first period but I watched the rest.”

Dom let out a little sigh. “We won. I think they’re better without me.”

“You’ve been out one game!” Shea protested. “And we all know Evanston’s had a rough season.”

“Yeah, but I suck. They play better when I’m not there fucking it up.”

His voice had grown slower. A little sleepier.

It made worry ping inside Shea’s brain. He flicked on the light, concern rising again. “Hey, did they give you something for the pain, Dom?”

“Yeah. I talked to the team doc tonight. Got something before bed.”

“Okay. Do you remember what he gave you?” he asked.

“No. Some muscle relaxer, maybe? It starts with an F though, I think,” Dom said.

“Flexeril?” Shea guessed.

“Yep. That’s it.”

“Well, I think you’re maybe feeling the effects pretty hard,” Shea said, frowning. “You seem a little off right now. How many did you take, Dom?”

“One before I laid down.”

Okay. Well, that was something. For a minute there Shea had wondered if Dom had taken too many.

“Did you take anything else with it?” Shea asked.

“No. Just melatonin for sleep.” Dom yawned again.

Shea frowned. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if that would interact or not. “Have you had anything to drink?”

“Had two of those little bottles in the minibar after the game.”

“Dom, I’m a little worried right now,” Shea said, tension filling him. “A muscle relaxer in combination with alcohol, that’s not great. You should maybe go talk to—”

“Nooo, I’m okay. I want to talk to you. Don’t hang up,” Dom pleaded.

“Okay, okay, I’m not hanging up,” Shea said reassuringly. “We can keep talking.”

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