Isn't It Bromantic (Bromance Book Club #4) - Lyssa Kay Adams Page 0,101
am I looking at?”
“A report from the witness who said they saw my father get on the train that night. But the witness lied. He was nowhere near the train station that night.”
“How do you know?”
She hesitated. “My source.”
“The person on the phone just now?”
“Yes.” She put the paper back and resumed gathering everything into an organized stack.
“Who is he?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Jesus, Elena. This isn’t a game.” He regretted the words and his tone this time, so he tried again. “How does this source know the truth?”
“Because he has seen the original witness report, the one he gave before it was changed. I need that report, Vlad.”
“And you have to go to Russia to get it.”
“He has a copy. But it’s too risky to email or fax. I have to get it in person.”
He swore under his breath. “And what then? What happens after you get that report?”
“And then . . .” She shook her head, grabbed the entire stack of notes, and shoved them in her backpack. “And then I don’t know.”
She started to walk away, so he gripped her arms to stop her. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this, Elena?”
She unartfully dodged his question. “I’ll only be gone a few days. Maybe, maybe a week. I can get a flight to New York in a few hours and then to Russia from there tomorrow night.”
“No.” He shook his head, his jaw a wedge of granite. “You can’t go.”
She looked at him with beseeching eyes. “I need to follow this lead.”
“What lead?” he exploded. “Your father is dead, and nothing is going to change that.”
“I know that,” she yelled, yanking free of his hands. “But I have to know what happened to him, Vlad. I’m trying to find out what happened to him.”
“No, you’re not! You’re trying to justify in your mind why his job was always more important than you!”
Her face fell as the color drained from her skin. “His job was important. Journalism is important.”
“Is that how you justify the fact that you hid in a hotel room for three days with almost nothing to eat? Why my mother had to buy you your first tampons? Why he never, ever remembered your birthday?”
She wrapped her arms around her torso and looked as small and defeated as she did the day that he snapped at her in the hospital. He wished he could take it away—the pain of what he said—but he couldn’t. She had to face it, because the guys were right. It was just like in fiction. This was her internal conflict, and until she truly faced it, they would always end up right back here.
Vlad bent to grab his crutches. He was tired and sore and all out of fight. He slid them under his armpits and leaned heavily.
“What are you doing?” she breathed.
Irony turned his voice to vinegar. “What I always do with you. I’m letting a captive bird go winging.”
“Vlad . . .” Her voice was a hoarse, wrenching rasp that would’ve made any Russian romanticist proud, as if it had floated up from the depths of some hidden well of feelings where she’d been hiding them. He recognized the sound because he had one of those wells too. The difference was, he wasn’t afraid of the dark water below. She was still searching for a life preserver.
Vlad closed the distance between them and cradled her head against his chest. “I love you, Elena. I don’t want you to go, but I’m not going to stop you, and I’m not going to make you choose. But I’m done trying to convince you to choose me.”
Elena straightened and pulled away from him. “Why can’t you just support me on this? Why can’t you accept that this is who I am?”
“Because you’re chasing something you’ll never be able to catch. And I can’t compete with a ghost.”
“I’m not asking you to compete with my father.”
“He’s not the ghost I’m talking about. Decide what you want, Elena. Once and for all.”
The trek down the stairs was the longest of his life. Colton was crouched on the bottom step, waiting for him. He stood up when he heard Vlad’s descent.
“Let’s go,” Vlad said.
“Um, where’s Elena?”
Vlad crutched around him to the door. “She’s not coming.”
“Is she okay?”
Vlad didn’t answer. He threw open the door and crutched outside. Colton followed slowly. “Dude, talk to me. What the fuck is going on?”
Vlad spoke purely out of pain. “I need to make a stop.”