A JOVE BOOK
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
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Copyright © 2019 by Lyssa Kay Adams
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Adams, Lyssa Kay, author.
Title: The bromance book club / Lyssa Kay Adams.
Description: First edition. | New York : Jove, 2019. | Series: The bromance book club ; 1
Identifiers: LCCN 2019006240 | ISBN 9781984806093 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781984806109 (ebook)
Subjects: | BISAC: FICTION / Romance / Romantic Comedy. | FICTION / Romance / Sports. | FICTION / Women. | GSAFD: Love stories.
Classification: LCC PS3601.D385 B76 2019 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019006240
First Edition: November 2019
Cover art by Jess Cruickshank
Cover design by Colleen Reinhart
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
To Grandma
I definitely crapped a worm with a bell on it this time, didn’t I?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing and publishing a novel is a team effort. I wouldn’t be living this dream without the help and support of so many people who deserve thanks.
First, thank you to my family, who has encouraged and supported me every day of my life. Mom, you have never let me forget what my dreams are or let me doubt that I can make them happen. To my husband: It was a scary leap of faith when I decided to write full time. You’ve been there every step of the way to make sure I could live this crazy dream. And Dad, my break-glass-in-case-of-emergency, thanks for always being the calm captain at the helm of the ship.
Huge thanks to my agent, Tara Gelsomino. You plucked me out of a Twitter pitch-fest and made all of this happen. Thank you for your guidance, your sense of humor, and your belief in my Bromance boys! And, of course, an equally huge thank-you to my wise, enthusiastic, and wickedly funny editor, Kristine E. Swartz, who fought hard to bring The Bromance Book Club to readers.
My writing tribe, who has kept me sane (or some approximation of it): Meika Usher, Christina Mitchell, Alyssa Alexander, Victoria Solomon, Tamara Lush, and all the women of the Binderhaus. I love you all! Special shout-out to Anna Bradley for encouraging me to turn my little idea into a full-blown book!
For keeping me caffeinated as I wrote and edited, I have to thank the best baristas in the world: Joey, Walls, Brandon, Allie, and Alexa from the Okemos Biggby. No one mochas like you.
Finally, thank you to my daughter. You’re the reason I do everything. Thank you for the big hugs, for the supportive messages on my whiteboard, and for the days of eating cereal when I was on deadline. Never forget you’re the heroine of your own story. Write yourself a good one!
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Epilogue
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
There was a reason Gavin Scott rarely drank.
He was bad at it.
As in, face-planted on the carpet while reaching for the bottle bad. And too drunk to see in the dark so might as well stay down bad.
Which is why he didn’t get up when his best friend and Nashville Legends teammate, Delray Hicks, pounded on the door to his hotel room, a fourth-floor state of depression that reminded him every minute that he could at least screw up like a champion.
“Izz open,” Gavin slurred.
The door swung wide. Del flipped on a blinding overhead light and immediately swore. “Shit. Man down.” He turned and spoke to someone else. “Help me.”
Del and another giant human lumbered toward him until their four massive hands grabbed his shoulders. In an instant, he was upright and leaning against the shitty couch that had come with the room. The ceiling spun, and his head fell back against the cushions.
“Come on.” Del smacked his cheek. “Look alive.”
Gavin sucked in air and managed to lift his head. He blinked twice but then ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “I’m drunk.”
“No shit,” Del said. “What have you been drinking?”
Gavin lifted his hand to point at the bottle of craft bourbon on the coffee table. It had been a gift from a local distillery to every member of the team at the end of their season a few weeks ago. Del swore again. “Shit, man. Why not just pour grain alcohol down your throat?”
“Didn’t have any.”
“I’ll get some water,” said the other guy, whose blurry face sort of resembled Braden Mack, owner of several Nashville nightclubs, but that made zero sense. Why would he be there? They’d only met once at a charity golf thing. Since when were he and Del friends?
A third man suddenly walked in, and this time Gavin recognized him. It was one of his teammates, Yan Feliciano. “Como es el?”
How is he? Gavin understood that. Holy shit, he could speak Spanish when he was drunk.
Del shook his head. “He’s about one shot away from listening to Ed Sheeran.”
Gavin hiccupped. “No me gusta Ed Sheeran.”
“Shut up,” Del said.
“I don’t stutter when I’m Spanish.” Gavin hiccupped again. Something sour came up with it this time. “When ’m drunk.”
Yan swore. “Que pasó?”
“Thea asked for a divorce,” Del said.
Yan made a sound of disbelief. “My wife said there was a rumor about them having trouble, but I didn’t believe it.”
“Bleeveve it.” Gavin groaned, dropping his head against the couch. A divorce. His wife of three years, the mother of his twin daughters, the woman who made him realize there really was a thing called love at first sight, was done with him. And it was his own fucking fault.
“Drink this,” Del said, handing Gavin a bottle of water. And then, speaking to Yan again, said, “He’s been staying here for the past two weeks.”
“She kicked me out,” Gavin said, dropping the unopened water.
“Because you’ve been acting like a douchebag.”
“I know.”
Del shook his head. “I warned you, man.”
“I know.”
“I told you she’d get sick of your ass if you didn’t get your head out of it.”
“I know.” Gavin growled it this time, lifting his head. Too fast. He did it too fast. A wave of nausea warned that the bourbon was making a run for the nearest exit. Gavin swallowed and drew in a deep breath, but, oh shit . . . sweat dampened his forehead and his armpits.
“Oh fuck, he’s turning green!” Might-Be-Braden-Mack yelled.
Massive hands grabbed him again and hauled him to his feet. They barely touched the floor as Del and Pretty-Sure-It-Was-Mack dragged him to the bathroom. Gavin stumbled to the toilet just as something the color of bad decisions exploded from his mouth. Mack swore with a gag and bolted. Del stayed, even when Gavin grunted like a tennis player in her backswing and heaved several more times.
“You never could handle the hard stuff,” Del said.
“I’m dying.” Gavin groaned again, falling to one knee.
“You’re not dying.”
“Then put me out of my mishery.”
“Trust me. I’m tempted.”
Gavin fell onto his ass and leaned against the beige bathroom wall. His knee collided with the beige tub hidden by a plastic, beige shower curtain. He made $15 million a year and was stuck in a shittier hotel room than his days as a minor leaguer. He could afford way better, but this was punishment. Self-imposed. He’d let his pride ruin the best thing that ever happened to him.
Del flushed the toilet and closed it. He walked out and returned a moment later with the water. “Drink. I mean it this time.”
Gavin opened the bottle and sucked down half. After a few minutes, the room was no longer spinning. “What are they doing here?”
“You’ll find out.” Del sat down on the lid of the toilet and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “You all right?”
“No.” Gavin’s throat convulsed. Shit. He was going to lose it in front of Del. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the pad of his thumb into the space between his eyebrows.
“You go ahead and cry, man,” Del said, tapping Gavin’s foot with the toe of his sneaker. “No shame in that.”
Gavin propped his head against the wall again as twin tears rolled down his cheeks. “I can’t believe I lost her.”
“You’re not going to lose her.”
“She w-w-wants a divorce, asshole.”
Del didn’t react to his stutter. No one on the team did anymore, mostly because Gavin had stopped trying to fight it around them. Which was one more in a long list of things he had Thea to thank for. Before he met her, he was self-conscious, hesitant to speak even in front of people he knew. But Thea was completely unfazed the first time he stuttered in front of her. She didn’t try to finish his sentence, didn’t look away in discomfort. She just waited until he got the words out. No one else besides his family had ever made him feel like he was more than just an awkward, stammering jock.
Which made it that much more of a betrayal when he’d discovered her lie a month ago. And that’s what it felt like. A lie.
His wife had been faking it in bed their entire marriage.
“Did she say that?” Del asked. “Or did she say she thinks it’s time to think about divorce?”
“What’s the fucking difference?”
“One means she’s definitely done with you. The other means you might still have a chance.”
Gavin rolled his head against the wall in sloppy disagreement. “There’s no chance. You didn’t hear her voice. It was like talking to a stranger.”
Del stood and towered over him. “Do you want to fight for your marriage?”
“Yes.” Jesus, yes. More than anything. And shit, now his throat was closing again.
“What are you willing to do?”
“Anything.”
“Do you mean that?”
“W-w-what the fuck? Of course I mean it.”
“Good.” Del offered his hand. “Then come on.”
Gavin let Del pull him to his feet and then followed him back into the main room. His body felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds as he stumbled toward the couch and collapsed onto the cushions.
“Nice place you got here, Scott,” Mack said, emerging from the kitchenette area. He polished a green apple on his shoulder and then took a large, loud bite.
“That’s mine,” Gavin grumbled.
“You weren’t eating it.”
“I was going to eat it.”
“Sure. Right after you reached the bottom of that bottle.”
Gavin flipped him off.
“Knock it off,” Del ordered Mack. “We’ve all been where he is.”
Wait. What? What the hell did that mean?
Yan claimed the seat on the opposite end of the couch and clunked his cowboy boots onto the coffee table. Mack leaned against the wall.
Del looked at them both. “What do you guys think?”
Mack took another bite and spoke with his mouth full. “I don’t know. You really think he can handle it?”
Gavin dragged his hand down his face. He felt like he’d walked into the middle of a movie. A crappy one. “Can someone please explain to me wh-what’s going on?”
Del crossed his arms. “We’re going to save your marriage.”
Gavin snorted, but the three pairs of eyes looking back at him were serious. He groaned. “I’m screwed.”
“You said you were willing to do anything to get Thea back,” Del said.
“Yes,” Gavin mumbled.
“Then I need you to be honest.”
Gavin tensed. Del lowered himself onto the coffee table. It protested under his six-four frame.
“Tell us what happened.”
“I told you. She said—”
“I don’t mean tonight. What happened?”
Gavin darted a glance at all three men. Even if Yan and Eating-His-Apple-Mack weren’t there, Gavin wouldn’t talk about that. It was too humiliating. It would be bad enough to admit that he couldn’t satisfy his own wife in bed, but to also have to own up to the special kind of dumbfuckery that made him freak out, move into the guest room, punish his wife with the silent treatment, and refuse to hear her explanations because his ego was too fucking fragile to handle it? Yeah, no. He’d keep that to himself, thank you very much.
“I can’t tell you,” he finally mumbled.
“Why not?”
“It’s personal.”
“We’re talking about your marriage. Of course it’s personal,” Del said.
“But this is too—”
Mack cut him off with a frustrated noise. “He’s asking if you cheated on her, slapnuts.”
Gavin swiveled his head to glare at Del. “Is that what you think? You actually think I would cheat on her?” Just the thought made him want to bend over the toilet again and evacuate what remained of his liquid dinner.
“No,” Del said. “But we have to ask. It’s a rule. We don’t help cheaters.”
“Who the hell is we? What the fuck is going on?”
“You said she seemed like a stranger last night,” Del said. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe she is a stranger?”
Gavin shot him a what the
fuck look.
“All spouses become strangers to each other at some point in a marriage,” Del said. “All human beings are a work in progress, and we don’t all change at the same pace. Who knows how many people have gotten divorced simply because they failed to recognize that what they thought were insurmountable problems were actually just temporary phases?” Del spread his hands wide. “But hell, you two? It’s a wonder you two ever got to know each other at all.”
“Is this supposed to be making me feel b-b-better?”
“You guys dated, what, four months before she got pregnant?”
“Three.”
Mack coughed into his hand. It sounded like the word shotgun.
“Right,” Del continued. “And the next thing you knew, you were getting married on a whim in a courthouse, and before the twins were even born you got called up to the bigs? Hell, Gavin, you’ve been on the road most of your marriage while she’s been raising those girls practically on her own in a strange city. You think she’s going to be the same person after all that?”
No, but dammit, that wasn’t the problem with him and Thea. Sure, she had changed. So had he. But they were good parents, and they were happy. At least, he thought they were happy.
Del shrugged casually and sat up straight. “Look, all I’m saying is that our careers are hard enough on couples who date for years and know exactly what they’re in for before getting married. But you two jumped into the deep end of the pool with no life jackets. No marriage can survive that, even in the best circumstances. Not without some help.”
“It’s a little late for counsheling.”
“No, it’s not. But that’s not what I’m talking about, anyway.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Del ignored him and instead eyed Yan and Mack again. “Well?”
“I say yes,” Yan said. “He’ll be useless to us next season if we don’t get them back together.”
Mack shrugged. “I’m good, if only to get him out of here. Because goddamn, dude.” He gestured widely at the room.
Gavin slumped toward Yan. “How do I say fuck off in Spanish?”
Mack took a final bite of the apple and tossed the core over his shoulder. It landed perfectly in the sink. Gavin hated him more than anyone else in the entire world. “My daughters gave me that apple.”
The Bromance Book Club Page 1