Page 8 of The Blame Game

“I’ll reschedule,” he said shortly.

“Sawyer—”

“No, Dom. I’m not in a mood to argue with you and you know that rest and ice is the best treatment if you have any hope of playing tomorrow. You shouldn’t play tomorrow but I damn well know you will.”

Hockey players were like that. Stubborn as fuck and more than willing to hurt themselves in the name of winning.

Dom grumbled but didn’t argue.

Idiot, Shea thought but there was a resigned fondness to it that he couldn’t help.

They were both idiots, clearly.

“Is there even food here?” Dom mumbled.

“No. But there’s a grocery store in the lobby of the building,” Shea reminded him, digging in his satchel for the protein bars he always stashed there in case of an emergency. “I can run down and grab something.”

Dom sighed. “Yeah, okay.”

“Eat this in the meantime.” Shea flipped a bar onto Dom’s stomach and Dom grunted, lowering his arm so he could peer at it, inspecting the wrapper for the ingredients and nutritional breakdown.

With a shrug, he peeled off the wrapper and took a bite.

Shea dressed in street clothes, shooting Dom a glare. “And don’t even think about leaving while I’m out.”

“Fuck you. I’ll be good.” Dom finished the protein bar, tossed the wrapper, and threw his arm up over his eyes again.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Shea grumbled. He found his wallet and keys, then ducked out of the bedroom.

As Shea rode the elevator down, he considered his options.

The grocery on the ground floor of the condo building was small, but surely it was big enough to stock something Shea could throw together into a passable meal for someone who watched his diet carefully.

Thankfully, he was right.

It was a bougie chain and the nutritious options were plentiful.

He found pre-cooked brown rice, chicken, and frozen mixed veggies. Deciding to make chicken fried rice, Shea grabbed some eggs, snagged a bottle of soy sauce, oil, and some green onions, then called it good.

He let himself back in the condo, calling out, “I’m back,” though he fully expected Dom to be gone.

But no, his shoes and overcoat were still in the entryway and Shea found him lying exactly where he’d left him, sprawled out naked on the bed with one arm draped over his eyes.

“You don’t have a headache, do you?” Shea asked, concerned.

“No. The stretch feels good,” Dom muttered.

“Okay. Need anything while I cook?”

“Nah. Finished my water.”

“You’re drinking another one when you eat,” Shea warned.

Dom’s only reply was to flip him off.

Laughing, Shea carried the groceries into the kitchen and quickly thawed the vegetables in the microwave, guiltily enjoying the extra time with Dom. The opportunity to spend time with him outside of sex or watching the tail end of a hockey game was almost unheard of.

Shea didn’t want Dom to be injured, but he couldn’t deny how much he liked caring for Dom.

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