Isn't It Bromantic (Bromance Book Club #4) by Lyssa Kay Adams

            Vlad bent to grab his crutches. He was tired and sore and all out of fight. He slid them under his armpits and leaned heavily.

            “What are you doing?” she breathed.

            Irony turned his voice to vinegar. “What I always do with you. I’m letting a captive bird go winging.”

            “Vlad . . .” Her voice was a hoarse, wrenching rasp that would’ve made any Russian romanticist proud, as if it had floated up from the depths of some hidden well of feelings where she’d been hiding them. He recognized the sound because he had one of those wells too. The difference was, he wasn’t afraid of the dark water below. She was still searching for a life preserver.

            Vlad closed the distance between them and cradled her head against his chest. “I love you, Elena. I don’t want you to go, but I’m not going to stop you, and I’m not going to make you choose. But I’m done trying to convince you to choose me.”

            Elena straightened and pulled away from him. “Why can’t you just support me on this? Why can’t you accept that this is who I am?”

            “Because you’re chasing something you’ll never be able to catch. And I can’t compete with a ghost.”

            “I’m not asking you to compete with my father.”

            “He’s not the ghost I’m talking about. Decide what you want, Elena. Once and for all.”

            The trek down the stairs was the longest of his life. Colton was crouched on the bottom step, waiting for him. He stood up when he heard Vlad’s descent.

            “Let’s go,” Vlad said.

            “Um, where’s Elena?”

            Vlad crutched around him to the door. “She’s not coming.”

            “Is she okay?”

            Vlad didn’t answer. He threw open the door and crutched outside. Colton followed slowly. “Dude, talk to me. What the fuck is going on?”

            Vlad spoke purely out of pain. “I need to make a stop.”



* * *



            * * *

            “Thought we were never coming back here,” Colton said, car idling in the seedy, weedy parking lot.

            “You can wait in the car.” Vlad got out with his crutches. He banged on the door with his fist, and when the window slid open, he held up his coin. A moment of palpable surprise from the eyes staring out at him made him scowl. “Let me in.”

            Colton appeared beside him as the door squeaked open. Byron ushered them inside, a leery look on his scraggly face. “He’s not going to like this. He said you’re banned.”

            “I don’t give a shit what he said.”

            Byron made a quick decision about the difference in their two sizes and told them to go inside. Colton was blessedly silent as he followed Vlad up the ramp and through the heavy curtain. When they walked inside, Roman didn’t even look up from where he arranged a delicate array of cheese curls. “Didn’t think you’d have the balls to show up here again.”

            “I need a hit.”

            Roman snorted.

            “Ädelost,” Vlad said, pointing at the blue-veiny Swiss cheese. He scanned the day’s selection and landed on a semihard from Denmark. “Samsø. And . . . Époisses.”

            Colton and Roman both reeled back. The creamy French cheese was known for its pungency. Only the most hard-core of cheese connoisseurs could stand its aroma.

            “Dude, no,” Colton said.

            “That is strong cheese, my friend,” Roman said.

            “The stronger the better.” Vlad pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

            “A man only drowns himself in cheese like that when he’s looking for a fight,” Roman said.

            Colton lifted an eyebrow. “Or when he’s just been in one.”

            Vlad lifted his chin to the end of the table. “Throw some of that Edammer in there too.” Because why the fuck not? He was going to drown his sorrows in the decadent nutty flavor alongside some chilled peaches until he passed out. And then maybe he could wake up and realize it had all been a dream, and she was not going back to Russia.