Page 74 of The Blame Game
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.”
