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

            Vlad threw an arm over his eyes and prayed for sleep to drag him back under. His stomach warned of a punishing day of retribution for last night’s whiskey binge. The bizarre bacon smell wasn’t helping.

            A quiet noise on the floor drew his gaze to the right.

            He blinked. Rose up on his elbows. Blinked again.

            A chicken was in his room.

            A chicken in a diaper.

            Vlad sat up fully and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. But when he looked again, the chicken was still there. She walked slowly near his dresser, beak pecking at something she’d found on the floor.

            Dear God, he’d broken his brain last night. He was officially seeing things.

            “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

            Vlad nearly jumped out of his skin. Mack stood at his bedroom door holding a tray of food. “Brought you a friend,” he said, nodding at the chicken as he walked in. He set the tray on the nightstand. Curls of steam rose from a mug of tea and a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and cut-up fruit.

            “Is that Hazel?” Vlad could barely speak over the sandpaper of his throat.

            “Yep. These are her eggs you’re about to eat too.”

            Hazel was Vlad’s favorite chicken. Probably not everyone in the world had a favorite chicken, but Vlad did. She was from a farm outside the city where Mack’s wife had once lived and worked, and when Vlad was there one time, he and Hazel had bonded because a mean rooster named Randy had been attacking her.

            Vlad held out his arms. Mack bent, scooped up the hen, and deposited her on Vlad’s lap. Hazel cooed and settled down with her legs tucked beneath her. Vlad ran his hands over her soft feathers until the hen’s eyes closed. She was a good chicken. Vlad bit his lip to keep it from trembling and cleared his throat. “What time is it?”

            “Almost noon.”

            Elena was probably already on a plane back to Chicago by now. Or maybe she was driving his car. Either way, she was far, far away.

            “Malcolm, Del, Noah, and Colton will be up in a few minutes,” Mack said, reaching for the chicken. “You need to eat.”

            “I am not sure I can.” Vlad pressed a hand to his stomach.

            “Give it a try. You need to soak up the damage from last night.”

            Vlad pulled the tray to his lap, studied the food, and opted to start with the tea. “Elena is going back to Chicago,” he said.

            Mack set Hazel on the floor. “We know.”

            “How do you know?”

            “She texted Colton to ask him to check on you.”

            She was still watching out for him. Even after everything they’d said to each other last night. His stomach clenched, and not because of his gastrointestinal sensitivity. This was pure mental anguish.

            The rest of the guys came in a few moments later. Vlad braced himself for the cross-check. The yelling about what an idiot he was for what happened at the party and for letting Elena leave.

            “Just say it,” he grumbled.

            “Say what?” Malcolm asked, leaning casually against the bedframe.

            “Tell me I’m an idiot who screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m an idiot for letting her go.”

            Colton shrugged. “I mean, yeah, that sort of sums it up well.”

            Mack dragged his hands over his hair. “What happened last night after we left?”

            “It doesn’t matter. She’s going back to—”

            “Russia. Yeah, so we’ve heard.” Mack shook his head. “But we also watched you lose your fucking mind over another guy even thinking about kissing her last night after you insisted you were at peace with the divorce, so maybe it’s time to cut the shit and just be straight with us.”

            Vlad poked at his eggs. He wished he could hug Hazel again.