Page 34 of The Best Parts of Him

But they still didn’t make sense.

“Cosmo? Your dog?”

Dabbs let out a laugh. “I’m guessing you didn’t get my text from earlier?”

Frowning, Ryland scrolled back through his text conversation with Dabbs. He smiled when he landed on a photo of Cosmo watching the hockey game and?—

“Excuse you. Cosmo would never root for Minnesota.”

“Not after that shit Connor Mavis pulled, that’s for sure. What an asshole.”

Dabbs let out a grunt that had a breathy quality that spoke of discomfort.

“Are you okay?” Ryland asked, tapping the pedal when the light turned green.

“Haven’t been feeling great the past couple of days,” Dabbs said in a strained voice that took discomfort and ratcheted it up to pain. “I think I ate something that isn’t sitting well with me.”

Ryland winced in sympathy. “Food poisoning?”

“I haven’t been vomiting. I think it’s indigestion.”

“Try an herbal tea. They’re supposed to help with that.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dabbs said. “I think I have peppermint tea in the kitchen. Anyway, I’ll let you go. Get some rest, okay?”

“Good luck with the indigestion.”

“Good luck with the rehab.”

“If I call you crying, send candy.”

Dabbs’ laughter as he ended the call was exactly the way Ryland wanted to end his night.

chapter nine

It was possible that the indigestion wasn’t indigestion.

Dabbs needed to eat something before tonight’s game, but as he sat on a stool in the kitchen in Burlington’s Sport U Arena, just the idea of putting anything in his stomach made him want to hurl. He couldn’t stand straight, and the pain in his side had reached unbearable levels in the past couple of hours.

The peppermint tea—last night’s mug and this morning’s—hadn’t helped.

“Cap?” Sandbaker ducked and caught his gaze. “You don’t look so hot.”

Dabbs sucked in a breath through his nose. Tried to answer and let out a pained groan instead.

Sandbaker’s eyes went wide and he backed up a step. “Do you have the flu?”

“It’s not the flu.” Michael Hughes appeared on Dabbs’ other side. He turned Dabbs’ stool around to face him. “Hey, buddy.”

“Something’s wrong,” Dabbs managed in a ragged whisper.

“I know, buddy,” Hughes said calmly. “Come with me, yeah?”

Hughes lifted Dabbs’ left arm and put it around his shoulder before gently hefting him up. Dabbs hissed, gritting his teeth against the pain, and pressed his hand to his right side.

“Jesus.” Bellamy nearly collided with them in the doorway. “Shit, Dabbs, are you okay?”

“He’s not,” Hughes said, walking slowly down the hallway, one arm braced around Dabbs’ back. “You live with the guy—haven’t you noticed that he’s been off?”