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

            Elena looked down at her own ring, still wrapped snugly around the finger where he’d placed it all those years ago. She tugged it off and, after a moment of hesitation, laid it next to his.

            A knock at the door signaled the arrival of the team staff. She walked out, Neighbor Dog closely behind, and pulled the door shut.



* * *



            * * *

            “The Western conference finals will end tomorrow with either the Nashville Vipers or the Vancouver Canucks heading to the Stanley Cup, but the Vipers will face a battle without their best defenseman, Vladislav Konnikov, who is recovering in a Nashville hospital from surgery for a broken tibia suffered in Friday night’s game. Team sources say it is uncertain when he will return to the team. The Vipers have moved Adam Lansberg into the rotation to replace Konnikov—”

            Vlad zapped off the TV, casting his room in darkness but for the lights from the parking lot outside. The shadows matched his mood. All day, he had prayed for privacy amid the constant stream of team staff, nurses, and other medical personnel. But now that he had silence, he longed once again for distraction because the instant his mind was disengaged, it replayed the sound of Elena’s suitcase wheels growing fainter down the hallway.

            He’d told Elena that his mother would get her hopes up if she knew Elena was here. Which was true. His mother would say it was a sign that she was right all along, that Elena had just needed time to get over what happened with her father so she could love Vlad fully. Mama would read something into the fact that Elena had dropped everything and hopped on a plane in the middle of the night to stand next to his bed, run her fingers over his hair, and assure him everything was going to be okay.

            But that wasn’t why Vlad sent Elena away. It wasn’t only his mother’s hopes he worried about. It was his own. He would think it was a sign that she’d hopped on a plane in the middle of the night. At least with his mother, he could blame her eternal optimism on being a natural romantic. She was a literature professor at Omsk State University, a specialist in the great Russian poet Alexander Pushkin. Whenever he had doubts, Mama was ready with a Pushkin quote to encourage him to hang on a little longer, to believe in the future of his marriage.

            But seeing Elena had made at least one thing clear. He couldn’t avoid his parents any longer. He’d never gone this long without calling home. He couldn’t even be sure when he last did. April, maybe? It had simply become too painful to keep lying to them, especially Mama, so he cut them off as much as his friends. Telling her the truth—that he and Elena were getting a divorce—was going to be torture. But it was time.

            Vlad pressed his mother’s name in his contacts list, put the phone to his ear, and braced for impact.

            “Finally.”

            Vlad winced. It was a feat of linguistic majesty the way his mother could convey an entire spectrum of human emotions with a single, curt word. “I’m sorry, Mama. It’s been busy here and—”

            “Too busy to tell your parents that you’re okay? The only person we’ve heard from is Josh.”

            “I know—”

            “And do you know how we found out that you were hurt? A journalist called us, Vlad. For comment. We didn’t even know!”

            “Let me talk to him,” his father said in the background. Then, a moment later, his father’s voice boomed clearly. “If you weren’t already injured, I’d break your other leg.”

            “Papa, I’m sorry. I haven’t had a chance to call until now.”

            “You haven’t called in months.”

            “Let me talk to him again.” His mother returned to the phone, this time with a slightly softer tone. “How are you? Are you in any pain?”

            “Not right now. I can’t really feel anything.” In his leg, at least. His chest was caving in on itself.

            “Josh said you’ll start rehab in about a week?”

            “Yes, I hope so.”

            His mother paused, and he could hear her brain working. “You are going to need someone to help out.”

            “The team will provide someone—”

            “Don’t be ridiculous. Elena will do it. She’s almost done with school.”