Isn't It Bromantic?

by Lyssa Kay Adams

  Elena left her suitcase by the door and averted her eyes from his exposed skin as she walked to the side of his bed. “I wanted to bring you some things before I left,” she said in Russian. “Clothes and a toothbrush.”

  “Thank you.”

  She set the bag on the table next to his bed. “The keys to your car are in there too. I hope you don’t mind that I drove it here. I just thought someone could drive you home in it.”

  He thanked her again, studying her face in a way that heated her blood and scrambled her brain.

  She bit her lip. “Did you sleep okay last night?”

  The purplish smudges beneath his eyes said he hadn’t, but Vlad nodded. “Yes. You?”

  “Good.”

  “You found everything you needed in the house?”

  “Yes.” Elena shoved her hands in her back pockets, desperate for something to cover the awkwardness. It didn’t used to be like this between them—useless small talk bracketed by heavy silences. But the man who’d once been her best friend was now like a stranger. Still, awkward was a lot better than the subtle aggression he’d shown toward her yesterday. “I met your friends.”

  “Which friends?”

  “The Loners.” She toed the floor with her sneaker. “They were at your house when I got there yesterday. I don’t think the old one likes me very much.”

  Vlad dragged a beleaguered hand over his hair and spoke on a sigh. “What did Claud say?”

  “I don’t remember exactly, but it was something like, ‘You’re a heartless bitch who should be hit by a train.’ ”

  Vlad’s eyebrows pulled together as his expression darkened. “She said that?”

  “Maybe not those exact words, but that was clearly the meaning.” She shrugged and adopted what she hoped was a self-deprecating smile. “Hey, if I were dead, then you’d be a real member of their club, at least.”

  Her attempt at humor missed its mark. “Elena, don’t ever say anything like that again.”

  She squirmed again under his examination. She self-consciously scratched a nonexistent itch on her face as she thought of something to say.

  “You’re not wearing your ring.”

  She shoved her hand back into her pocket.

  “You had it on yesterday.” His voice had dropped an octave.

  “I saw yours on your dresser. I figured since you weren’t wearing yours . . .” She shrugged. “I left mine next to it.”

  “I only take mine off for games, Elena. I’ve been wearing it.”

  “Oh.” Her heart hammered a confusing beat. Why was he telling her that?

  A brisk knock on the door interrupted them. Madison poked her head in. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes, of course,” Elena said, switching back to English. She turned away from Vlad, hands still in her back pockets, as Madison walked in. Madison greeted Vlad, checked his incision, and then introduced the two other trainers with her—a pair of eager-looking grad assistants who seemed like they couldn’t wait to start torturing him with squat thrusts.

  Done with the introductions, Madison smiled and said, “So, I bet you’re ready to get out of here.”

  “Very much,” Vlad answered.

  “Since you’re here, Elena, does that mean you’re staying, or . . . ?”

  The empty, sour feeling returned to her stomach. “No, I am going back to Chicago.”

  “You can stay.” Vlad said it in Russian, and at first, Elena wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. But when she looked down at him, his expression confirmed it. A pink tinge rose above the dark outline of scruff on his cheeks, giving him a boyish, sheepish look. “If—if you still want to.”

  “But you said—”

  “I was a jerk yesterday.”

  Heart pounding, she glanced at Madison, who was quietly conversing with the two other trainers. Even though none of them could understand her conversation with Vlad, Elena appreciated the attempt at privacy. She stepped closer to his bed. “I don’t understand. You—you want me to stay?”

  His response was a single nod.

  A warm bloom in her chest began to melt the cold loneliness that had been slowly turning her heart to ice. “I bought a plane ticket for tonight. I don’t know if I can cancel it.”

  “Just don’t get on the plane.”

  “But the money . . . I always cost you so much money.”

  His expression became wounded. “I don’t care about the money, Elena. If you want to go, then go. But I’m asking you to stay. Do you want to or not?”

  Just like that day so many years ago when he’d crouched before her with two shiny rings, she hesitated before answering. And just like then, a smile spread across her face, and when she finally found her voice, it was a whisper. “Yes.”

  His features relaxed, as if he’d been holding his breath in anticipation of her response. He nodded and swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  He looked at Madison and switched back to English. “Elena is staying.”

  “Great,” Madison said, grinning in an oddly victorious way, as if she’d known all along this would happen or, at least, had hoped for it. “Shall we go over the rehab plan together?”

  Before either of them could answer, Madison whipped out a single sheet of paper from the folder she carried. “This is just a basic outline. It will change as needed, but this is what we’re looking at for the next few months.” Madison handed Vlad the paper. Elena inched closer to his bed to read over his shoulder.

  The plan was broken down week by week, but that was almost the only thing Elena understood. Simple instructions like ice and elevation were complicated by clinical terms and acronyms. Six weeks in a brace with full extension. Ice to reduce pain and inflammation. Gait training with crutches, NWB.

  She looked up. “What does NWB mean?”

  Madison and Vlad answered at the same time. “Non-weight bearing.”

  “The next few days, you need to take it easy,” Madison said. “You can obviously get up to use the bathroom, to bathe, and to stretch, but for the most part, you need to stay off your feet and keep the leg elevated above your heart.”

  Patella mobility drills. Multi-plane open kinetic chain straight leg raising. Week two, begin proprioception drill emphasizing neuromuscular control.

  “Is he supposed to know what any of this means?” Elena asked, not even trying to hide the rising alarm in her voice.

  “That’s what we’re for.” Madison smiled.

  Vlad absently scratched his jaw, the scrape of his fingertips against his thick whiskers drawing Elena’s attention. Transfixed, she studied the pop of a vein atop his hand that wound all the way up his forearm. As if feeling the weight of her stare, Vlad suddenly looked up. Their eyes collided, and she felt a kick in her chest. The reality of the close quarters they were about to share became its own presence in the air between them.

  Elena tore her eyes away to find Madison watching them with a curious, amused glint in her eye.

  Elena’s cheeks grew hot. “What about nutrition? Will you put him on a special diet to help him heal, or can I make him anything he wants?”

  “Lots of fruits, vegetables, and protein,” Madison said. “And, of course, gluten-free.”

  “Why gluten-free?”

  “I was diagnosed with a gluten allergy late last year,” Vlad answered quietly in Russian.

  “You never told me that.”

  “I planned to, but . . .”

  But she broke his heart instead.

  Madison cleared her throat. “Well, we’re going to leave you alone now so you can get ready to go home. We’ll be in touch tomorrow, but call tonight if you need us, okay?” She spoke with the quick cadence of someone anxious to leave. She all but pushed the two grad students toward the door.

  “I have no idea how to cook gluten-free,” Elena said, nibbling her lip. “I
’ll have to do some research on how to adapt recipes.”

  “I don’t need anything fancy.”

  “But I want to make all your favorites from home.”

  Vlad shifted against his pillows to sit up straighter. “You’re sure you don’t mind doing this?”

  “I’m sure.” She swallowed and hugged her chest. “But can I ask you something?”

  He nodded tentatively, as if he feared the question.

  “Why did you change your mind?”

  He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “You were right. It will be nice to not have a stranger in my house.”

  It was an ironic answer, since she felt like a stranger around him. But maybe this time together was exactly what they needed to correct that, so that when the time finally came for her to leave, they would part, at last, as friends again. It was the best she could hope for, and more than she deserved, but she wasn’t going to waste this opportunity to start making things right between them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Several hours later, Elena kept a steady beat of nervous chatter all the way home, but Vlad was too shell-shocked to respond with much more than single-word answers.

  The hospital had sent him home with a pair of crutches, some painkillers, and a stern warning to take it easy for the next few days. They gave him nothing, however, to deal with the reality of his rash decision to let Elena stay. What the hell had he been thinking?

  He hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. He’d simply been reacting. The crushed look on her face when she told Madison she was going back to Chicago had awakened a side of him he’d long thought dead. It was the same side that had convinced him to propose to her. The side that believed his mother when she assured him that Elena would eventually find her way back to him. The side that once read every romance novel he could get his hands on to learn how to make it happen.

  Vlad must have made a noise, because Elena quickly glanced over at him. “What’s wrong? Does it hurt? Do I need to pull over?”

  “No. I’m fine.” Which was the biggest lie he’d ever told. He was anything but fine. The car was too small with her in it, and he was too keenly aware of how desperately he needed a bath. Something he was not going to be able to do alone.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Not right now.”

  “I could make dinner when we get home, or we could order something. Do you know if you’re supposed to take your pill with food?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll find out. I did a bunch of cleaning yesterday so the house would be ready for you. I mean, it was already really clean. I just made your bed and removed all the rugs in the bathrooms and stuff so you don’t trip on them. I’ll make a grocery list tonight.”

  The comments continued at a rapid-fire pace, too fast for him to respond. But it was clear that she didn’t actually intend for him to contribute to the conversation. This was her way of dealing with the tension in the car. While he stared out the window and grunted, she gave voice to every thought in her head.

  She barely took a breath until she pulled into his driveway. “Do you want me to park in the garage so you can go in that way?”

  “The front is probably easier.”

  She turned the car off and jumped out. Vlad opened his door, but she barked at him to stay put. His crutches were in the back seat, so he waited for her to get them before attempting to get out. Using one crutch for leverage, he swung his braced leg out and then rose slowly on his good leg.

  Elena handed him the other crutch, hovering and biting her lip as he wedged it beneath his armpit.

  “Careful,” Elena said, holding her arms out, presumably in case he toppled over. Which was pointless. If he fell, he’d take them both down.

  “I’ll shut your door,” Elena said.

  Vlad crutched forward a couple of times to give her room. The door slammed behind him, and then Elena raced around, and her frenetic questions started again. “Do you need help? I’ll open the front door. Can you get up the porch steps?”

  “I’m fine, Elena. But yes, it would be helpful if you opened the front door.”

  She took off like a speed skater and bounded up the few steps to his porch. She used her key to unlock and push open the door before turning and racing back to him.

  “So, do I—do you need help?”

  “I can do it.”

  “Right. Okay. I just, I don’t know what to do.”

  Vlad paused in his slow approach to the porch. “Look at me.”

  Her wide eyes blinked up at him. Something shifted in his chest, and he wished the painkillers could numb his heart. “I’ll tell you if I need something, okay? You don’t have to hover.”

  “Okay.” She backed up a step. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I appreciate the help.”

  Her minuscule nod did more damage to his chest cavity. This woman was going to kill him slowly with her presence alone. Was that her goal? Was that why she was doing this? To finish off what remained of his pathetic carcass?

  “Could you maybe bring in my bag?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding with far more enthusiasm this time. “Yes, I can do that.”

  He crutch-hopped up the steps as she retrieved his duffel bag, and by the time he made it inside, she was already behind him, hovering once again.

  “Okay, so do you want to go straight upstairs or maybe sit on the couch for a little while?”

  He inched toward the staircase. “My bed is better. More room to elevate my leg.”

  “Right. Of course. That was stupid.”

  He hopped up the first step, and she followed closely behind. He was breathing hard and sweating by the time he reached the top.

  “Now what?” Elena said behind him.

  “Now I ice it for a little while.”

  “I will get some after we get you settled in bed.”

  Just hearing the word bed out of her mouth made him want to groan. Except for the hospital room, which really didn’t count, they hadn’t been in a bedroom together for any significant time in years. And even then, they’d shared the space for mere moments. And not for what husbands and wives usually shared a bedroom for. This was going to be torture.

  The minute he sat on the mattress, Elena moved in between his splayed legs to take his crutches. “I’ll lean them here,” she said, oblivious to the effect she was having on him by just standing. “That way you can reach them.”

  “Thanks,” he grunted.

  He reached behind him for a pillow to put under his leg. Elena raced forward. “Let me do it.”

  She bent over him, and he must have made another one of those tortured noises, because she leaped back suddenly. “Oh my God, did I hurt you?”

  “Nope. Just trying to get comfortable.” His voice scraped like rusty skates on pond ice.

  “Lean back so we can move your leg,” she said.

  He obeyed, mostly to get as far away from her skin as possible, because his hands were developing a mind of their own. He lifted his leg then as she plumped the pillow for him to rest it on. “Is that good?” She looked over at him.

  He gulped. “Thank you.”

  “Okay. I’ll go get the ice.”

  She raced from the room, and Vlad clunked his head against the headboard. He wasn’t going to survive this. Five minutes at home with her, and his mind was already occupied with thoughts of things that would definitely not help him heal.

  In his leg or his heart.

  She returned a moment later, panting as if she’d bounded up the stairs two at a time. She carried a plastic bag full of ice cubes and a thin kitchen towel. “Do we just put the ice on the brace, or on the skin?”

  “On the skin,” he said, sitting up. “I can open the brace—”

  She waved his hands away. “I can do it. I need to learn how.�
�

  “Icing my leg probably won’t be one of the things I need help with.” He tried to inject some levity to his tone but failed. It came out stressed.

  She straightened and apologized. Again. “You’re right. I’m being annoying, aren’t I?”

  “No.” Vlad took the ice and set it beside his hip. “Elena, listen.”

  She gulped and crossed her arms across her chest in that same protective pose that she’d adopted yesterday at the hospital, as if she were afraid of what he was about to say. He couldn’t blame her. He’d been an asshole yesterday.

  “You don’t have to do every little thing for me.”

  “Okay. Right. I’m sorry.”

  “And you don’t have to apologize all the time.”

  “Right.” She laughed with a nervous little puff of air.

  “And you have to promise to tell me if this becomes too much work.”

  “I will. But it won’t.” Beaming confidently again, she nodded in the general direction of the door. “I’m going to bring the rest of your stuff in from the car. Do you need anything else for the next few minutes?”

  “No, I’m—I’m fine.”

  He didn’t exhale until he heard her open the front door. He’d either made the biggest mistake of his life or . . . there wasn’t an or. He’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.

  The ice was quickly numbing his hip, so he leaned forward to open up his brace and rest the baggie on top of the incision. The movement was just enough to remind him that he’d gone way too long without a shower, and there was no way he was going to ask her to help him with that. He was putting his foot down—the good one—on that.

  His phone was on the nightstand, and though he dreaded making this call, it had to be done. Colton answered on the first ring. “Holy fuck, dude. The guys and I are going nuts. You send us one text, and that’s it?”