CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dom blinked hazily, feeling like his head was stuffed with cotton. Matty was asleep beside him, mouth slack, snoring a little.

"The fuck ?" Dom mumbled. Had they gone out drinking last night or something?

His mouth tasted vile and when he tried to remember what they'd done, he came up blank. He remembered talking to Zane Murphy, the end of the game, and then nothing.

Matty sat upright, cheek creased from the pillow. "Fuck! You're okay."

"Yeah." Dom rubbed his face, wincing. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you nearly fucking put yourself in an early grave, dude," Matty snapped.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

Wait, no, Dom did remember something after the game. There were flashes of the flight from Chicago to Minnesota. He remembered checking into the hotel, his back and thigh aching.

Even the salve and ice hadn't helped and he'd been desperate to get some sleep so he'd knocked on Dr. Strickland's door.

But nothing beyond that. No matter how hard he strained to remember, there was a blank spot.

"Matty, maybe you should go back to your room now. Let me talk with Dom."

Dom jerked in surprise at the sound of Dr. Strickland's voice.

"The fuck is going on here?" Dom asked, shifting so he was propped up against the headboard.

Matty frowned but he got out of bed, patting Dom's knee before he shuffled sleepily out of the room.

"Dom, do you remember anything about last night?" Dr. Strickland offered him a bottle of water and he took it with a murmured thank you.

"Not really?" He squinted, cracking the bottle open and chugging some. "I was benched for the game against Evanston and then we flew from there to Minneapolis, right?"

"Yes."

"I think my back was especially bad last night," Dom admitted. "And I got something from you for the pain, maybe?"

"You did. Do you remember anything else?"

"I came back to my room," he said slowly. "But … no. I don't remember anything except for that. What is going on?"

"Well, it appears you called a friend of yours last night. His name is … Shea, I believe. He's a physiotherapist?"

"Ahh, yeah. We um, talk sometimes."

Shit. Had Dom called to talk dirty, then fallen asleep on Shea or something? But why would he have gotten ahold of Dr. Strickland or Matty?

Hell, how had he gotten ahold of them?

"Well, he was concerned," Dr. Strickland said. "You were slurring your words and he said you told him you had a couple shots from the minibar."

"Yeah, I had hoped it would help me sleep. Look, what's going on?" Dom demanded. "Did something happen?"

"Well, apparently the alcohol didn't help you sleep because you also took a melatonin. And then used some CBD salve."

"Sure. It's been helping my back," Dom said. "That's not a problem, right?"

"Well, ordinarily, no. CBD can be very effective for reducing pain and inflammation. But since you didn't disclose that or the alcohol or melatonin to me, I had no way of knowing that you shouldn't have taken a muscle relaxer."

Dom rubbed his head. "I still don't understand."

He listened as Dr. Strickland explained that all four of the things he'd used had combined in a way that had slowed his breathing and heart rate.

Dom felt sick as Dr. Strickland described him blearily knocking on Dustin's door, barely able to stand upright.

"After speaking to Gilly and conferring with Pat Fleming and Kate Foster, we considered taking you to a hospital but ultimately decided to monitor you here. You weren't in distress, per se. Matty and Dustin took turns staying with you and I monitored your breathing and heartrate."

"Fuck!" Dom put his head in his hands, well aware of how bad this looked. The fact that they'd discussed it with the team's GM made him feel even worse. "I didn't … I wasn't … I never meant for that to happen."

"I know you've been going through a little bit of a rough time, Dom. Are you sure you didn't realize—"

"No!" Dom protested. "This wasn't … I wouldn't do that. I fucked up. I made a dumb decision using all that at once but I—it wasn't intentional . For God's sake, you have to believe me."

He'd felt weird after his talk with Zane, sure, but he hadn't tried to do anything to harm himself. Just wanted the pain to go away and to get some good sleep and not lay awake staring at the ceiling.

Some of the concern on Dr. Strickland's face eased. "Good."

"Am I in trouble?" Dom asked.

"I don't believe there would be any reason for disciplinary action, no," Dr. Strickland said slowly. "That's not my call but I certainly think we can chalk this up to a learning experience."

"Christ." Dom passed a shaky hand across his face. "I am so sorry for worrying everyone. I apologize. And thank you for making sure I was okay."

He could have died last night.

"Of course." Dr. Strickland smiled. "Glad to see you feeling okay. I'll leave you to get cleaned up and I'll see you at breakfast then."

Dom got off the bed, wincing at the flare of pain. "Thanks. See you then."

He walked Dr. Strickland to the door, then closed and locked it.

He felt shaky when he returned to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. A search for his phone showed it on the nightstand, plugged in and fully charged, and Dom immediately pulled up the app to text Shea.

I'm okay. Sorry I freaked you out last night , Dom typed out. That felt wholly inadequate but what else was there to say? Especially via text.

Glad to hear it.

Thanks for looking out for me. Talk when I get home? Dom offered.

Yeah, tell me when and where.

I will.

It felt good to shower and Dom stood under the streaming water for a long while. He dressed carefully and trimmed his facial hair, making sure he looked as pulled together as possible.

No one said anything directly, but he got a few hugs and backslaps when he arrived at breakfast and the mood during it was noticeably somber.

Big fat surprise that everyone on the team already knew what had happened.

Dom shoveled in tasteless eggs, toast, and fruit, his stomach hollow, his appetite gone, his need for fuel the only thing prompting him to eat.

Guys tapped his shoulder as they walked past, silent acknowledgment of their support. Dom appreciated it but it still made his skin itch with discomfort.

He went to practice, doing a light workout and stretching carefully, then took his usual midday nap.

He sat in the box during the game and tried not to feel sick as he poked at the blank spot in his brain, vainly trying to remember anything from the night before.

What had he said to Shea? What had he done that had freaked him out so bad he'd convinced Dom to get help?

But he had no answers.

Rather than play cards on the flight home, Dom found a seat in an empty row, put in earplugs, and pulled a sleep mask over his eyes.

He dozed until they landed in Toronto and when he did, Dustin asked if he needed a ride home.

"That's way the fuck out of your way," Dom pointed out.

"No, I know. I just …"

"I'm not up for a chat right now, D," Dom said, exhausted. "Go home to Charlie and we can talk tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay. Be careful driving home."

"I took a hired car here. Another one will arrive any minute to pick me up."

Dustin nodded, squeezing his arm. "Okay. Take care."

But Dom didn't take the car home. He took it to Shea's.

He texted him on the ride there and Shea merely responded with an, I'll let you in .

Shea met Dom at the front door and they rode the elevator up to Shea's floor in silence.

Inside, the apartment was dark and quiet except for the low hum of the heating.

Shea tilted his head, gesturing for Dom to follow him.

They ended up in what Dom assumed was Shea's bedroom. The sheets were rumpled and Shea was dressed in pajamas.

It hit Dom exactly how late it was.

They stared at each other for the longest time, Dom's breath tight in his chest as he wondered what to say. How to apologize. How to make this right.

Shea was the first to break and he wrapped his arms tightly around Dom.

"Fuck, you scared me," he murmured, his breath warm against Dom's cheek.

"I'm sorry," Dom whispered, settling a hand against Shea's back. He could feel the quick, hard thump of Shea's heart, beating against his chest. "I didn't mean … it wasn't …"

"I know." Shea lifted his head, his gaze worried. "But now I know how you felt the night of the fire, I guess."

Dom managed a ghost of a smile. "Guess we've both had brushes with …"

He trailed off, unable to finish the thought, his grip tightening on Shea's body.

"Yeah. Let's not try to one up each other again, okay?"

Dom laughed a little brokenly, feeling oddly hollow and like nothing was quite real at the moment. "Yeah, okay. Thank you for saving my life. I don't know how to adequately thank you for that but I know you did and I'm grateful."

Shea's face spasmed and he closed his eyes. "Don't. You … just don't."

Don't what? Dom wondered. But he was afraid to ask.

"Fuck you scared me last night," Shea rasped. "How much do you remember?"

"None of it," Dom admitted.

His arms were still around Shea and he should let go but he didn't want to. It felt impossible to even lift his arms, so he held him close instead.

"None?" Shea sounded surprised. "You don't remember any of it?"

"I mean, I remember going back to my room after I got the meds from Dr. Strickland but the rest? Totally blank."

Shea softened. "Ahh. Well, that's maybe not that surprising, all things considered."

Dom licked his lips. "You know I wouldn't have … if I'd known what combining all that would do …"

"I do know that. Although, you were … you were in a weird mood that night, Dom. Emotional."

He frowned. "I was?"

"Yeah. You were talking about your future after hockey and …"

Dom pulled away, passing a hand over his face before he turned away. "Ugh. I bet I got all up in my head about it, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"God, I'm sorry. I didn't … I didn't mean to dump that on you."

"No. It wasn't that I minded you telling me. I was just concerned."

"You believe me though, right? That I had no idea?" Dom turned back to look at him. It was important that Shea know that.

"About the interactions between everything you were using? Yeah. Most people have no clue. But you've gotta be careful. Even with over-the-counter stuff, it can get bad if you combine too many things. Hell, even stuff like cold medicine can be incredibly dangerous."

"Because I …" Dom looked at the ceiling, licking his lips. "I'm not in a great place about my career right now. I'm not. We both know it. And this shit with the gossip sites, it's not helping. Everything in my life feels very—very out of my control," he admitted.

"I know that. And I know how much you hate that feeling."

Dom winced, nodding. "But I don't want to end it."

"End your life or what we're doing?"

Dom blinked. "Well, I meant end my life but also what we're doing."

"Because we could end our arrangement." Shea glanced away. "If you think it's better for you. For your mental health and your career … I don't want to be someone who makes your life worse , Dom. I don't."

"I know that." Dom stepped forward, letting his hands skim along Shea's waist again. He wore a University of Toronto T-shirt and his skin was warm through the soft, thin fabric. "I don't know what to do about my career or my back. And I definitely don't know what to do about the stupid gossip. But what we have—what we do—it helps. I promise."

God, the thought of that disappearing—Shea disappearing from his life—felt like a yawning pit opening up before him, nothing to cushion his fall.

"Good." Shea let out a shuddering sigh, pulling Dom close again, resting their foreheads together. "Tell me if that changes, okay? Because I—you'll have to be the one to tell me it's done. I won't—I won't do it."

Dom frowned, not understanding. "Yeah, okay," he said slowly.

"I've spent the last twenty-four hours feeling sick about things," Shea said. "Knowing that I did this to you—"

"How is this your fault?" Dom frowned, lifting his head to look him in the eye, belatedly noticing that he'd slid a hand under Shea's shirt and was stroking the cut of his hip with his thumb.

Shea's expression turned anguished. "I'm the one who gave you the salve. If I hadn't—"

"I would have been in a lot more discomfort lately," Dom assured him. "It was my choice to grab bottles from the minibar and down them. My choice to toss in a melatonin on top of it. And my choice to not tell Dr. Strickland about any of that before he gave me a sleeping pill. I fucked up, Shea, not you."

"I should have warned you!" Shea protested.

Dom felt the sudden urge to press his lips to Shea's to make him stop talking. To show him that he wasn't mad.

But this wasn't what he and Shea were like together. It had never been like that.

Then again, he'd never been in Shea's bedroom before, or held him like this, staring into his eyes as he admitted that he was in a bad place in his life.

So maybe change—however loathed—was inevitable sometimes.

And maybe this didn't feel like the worst change he could make.

"I think you did," Dom said slowly. "I mean, that was last summer but I'm pretty sure you did tell me then."

"Yeah but—"

Rather than press his mouth to Shea's, Dom lifted a hand and brushed his thumb over Shea's lips. He stopped talking and Dom noticed how gorgeous his lips were. So soft and pink against his brown stubble and tanned skin.

"There's something else, Dom," Shea whispered. "Something I should tell you. You—"

"Please. I don't want to talk right now," Dom cut him off, leaning in. "I want to feel you."

"Dom …"

"No, listen. I've missed this," Dom whispered. "I missed touching you. I missed your smell and the sounds you make when you come."

Shea breathed raggedly, his lashes fluttering. "But you're in no shape to—"

"You're the PT," Dom countered, brushing their cheeks together, letting his breath ghost against the side of Shea's face. "Find a position that'll feel good for both of us."

Shea's grip on Dom's arm tightened. "Fuck. I shouldn't be that selfish."

"You're not being selfish. You're doing it for me." He skimmed his lips over the shell of his ear, feeling him shiver. "I need you, Shea."

With a groan, Shea pressed Dom backward toward the bed until his legs bumped the mattress.

He unbuttoned Dom's shirt and worked it off him, flinging it carelessly onto the dresser, stripping off the rest of his clothing just as quickly, then letting it pool on the ground.

Shea carefully lowered to his knees and Dom glanced down to see Shea's hands shaking.

"Hey, what is it?" he asked softly.

Shea gasped and pressed his forehead to Dom's stomach, his breath warm on Dom's bare skin.

Dom hesitated, then sank his hand into Shea's hair, combing through the thick waves. Shea reached up, gripping his thighs.

"Promise me," Shea whispered, his voice ragged. "Promise me you won't ever do anything like that again."

"I promise." Dom swallowed thickly. "I promise, okay?"

"Okay." Shea let out a shuddering sigh. "Okay."

For a long moment, he knelt there, not moving.

Then he pressed a soft, damp kiss to the spot halfway between Dom's navel and his cock. And then another. His lips were feather-soft and delicate as he explored the area and shivered when Shea ghosted his fingertips across Dom's cock.

He wasn't fully hard, his body was a little too exhausted, too in pain to get there quickly, but he did harden as Shea followed the touch of his fingers with the touch of his mouth.

Shea glanced up, teasing his tongue along the opening of Dom's foreskin. As hazy as Dom felt, as good as it was, he hesitated, tightening his grip on Shea's hair.

"Wait. Condom," he managed. "You—you should get a condom."

"I will if you want me to."

Dom shook his head. "No."

"Then I don't want it either." Shea glanced at him, gaze filled with need and something Dom couldn't place.

"If you're sure …" Dom relaxed his grip on Shea's hair.

"I'm sure." Shea sank over him, his warm, slick mouth engulfing Dom's cock and making his head swim.

Dom thrust forward a little and let out a gasp when a jagged bolt of pain shot through him.

Shea pulled away and Dom opened his mouth to protest but Shea quieted him, coaxing him to lie back.

Kneeling on the mattress now, Shea draped Dom's thighs over his shoulders.

It relieved the pressure, made the pain ease for a moment, and Dom let out a sigh as Shea dragged his tongue up Dom's length, gaze never leaving Dom's.

Dom panted softly, his fingers still tangled in Shea's hair, tugging a little.

Shea grasped his hips, pinning them to the mattress, and lowered his mouth over Dom's cock again.

It was a slow, steady glide, so achingly perfect it made Dom feel like he was floating.

He found himself carding his hand through Shea's hair, murmuring indistinct things about how good he was, how perfect, and when Dom finally came it was like he floated over the edge so softly there was no pain, only soft, gentle pleasure that went on and on.

It was like lying on a beach with the warm surf rolling over him in wave upon wave of bliss.

And when it was over, there was nothing but slow, syrupy contentment in his body.