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

            A hush fell over the crowd, and officials finally paused the game. Trainers raced out. Crouched beside him. Asked him questions as they tried to locate the source of the injury.

            He’d seen it play out a hundred times to a hundred different players over the course of his career, but now it was him. It was his turn to wonder if this was it. Had his entire career just ended in a split-second mistake?

            They splinted him on the ice and carted him off on a stretcher. It was a blur after that. At some point, they’d peeled off his pads and cut off his pants. Thankfully, they gave him a shot of a powerful painkiller almost immediately, numbing him all the way to his toes. Then they moved him to the X-ray room, followed up with an MRI, and walked back in with a look that told him it was as bad as he’d feared. His brain could only grasp key words and phrases over the rush of blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart.

            Broken tibia.

            A clean break, but he would need surgery.

            And then they loaded him into an ambulance and brought him here, Nashville Orthopedic Hospital. He was rushed into surgery before he could even fully process what was happening.

            And then he’d had the dream about Elena. She’d lulled him into a peaceful state with her gentle touch, her voice, her reassurances. Only now he knew it wasn’t a dream. She was really here. But instead of making him feel better, it made him feel worse.

            The doctor approached the screen and pointed with a pen. “We think the initial break from the fall itself was probably small,” she explained. “But when you stood, you likely displaced the bone further.”

            The video began. In slow motion, Vlad watched himself try to stand before falling back to the ice, face twisted in agony. “So, I made it worse,” he said.

            “Yes, but also no.” Dr. Lorenzo turned away from the TV. “Ironically, your recovery would have been a lot longer with the simple fracture. We would have had to cast you and let the bone heal on its own with almost no weight-bearing activity for twelve weeks. With this kind of break, we place a metal rod into the bone to hold it in place. Believe it or not, this means you’ll be up walking and rehabbing a lot sooner.”

            Dr. Lorenzo checked her watch. “I have to prep for another surgery. I’ll check back in before I head out for the day.”

            Vlad didn’t even wait for the door to close before he looked at Madison. “When will I play again?”

            “You know I can’t tell you that yet.”

            “Please, Madison. Give me an idea of how long I will be off the ice.”

            She pursed her lips and exhaled a reluctant sigh. “If you were an average person, it would be a year before you could return to normal activity.” Madison held up her hand at the look on his face. “But you are not average. You’re a professional athlete in top physical condition who will have access to round-the-clock care, nutritional support, and a detailed rehabilitation plan.”

            “So how long?”

            “Our goal is to get you back on skates by October.”

            Vlad let his head fall against the pillows. Four months off the ice. He pressed his fist to his forehead. How could this be happening?

            “But there is a lot that happens between now and then,” Madison said. “Most people with this kind of break wouldn’t be allowed to put any weight on their leg for at least a month. You? We expect you to stand for a few minutes every day starting next week.”

            “What happens next?” Elena asked in a voice that managed to be both quiet and determined. She had inched closer to his side as she spoke. As much as it pained him to admit, there was something comforting about her presence and her journalistic skill for pushing through the panic of the situation to ask the important questions.

            “He’ll stay here again tonight,” Madison said. “Barring any complications, he should be able to go home tomorrow.”

            Elena made a noise. “Tomorrow? You can’t send him home tomorrow!”

            “We’ll make sure he has everything he needs,” Madison said.

            “But this was major surgery. What if something goes wrong?”

            “Elena,” Vlad said, trying to redirect her attention, because the look on her face was the same one she’d given him when he was sixteen and had the boneheaded idea to jump into the frozen Om River.