“Wakey, wakey, hands off snakey.”
Vlad thought he’d imagined every kind of possible hell. Now he knew he’d missed one—waking up to find Colton leaning over him.
“Time to wake up, little butt,” he said. “You’re going to be late for your appointment.”
Vlad rose up on his elbows. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine. You’re supposed to be at the arena in a half hour. I let you sleep too long.”
He had his one-week post-op appointment today. He didn’t recall any plans for Colton to take him. “Where is Elena?”
Colton shrugged and crossed the room to Vlad’s dresser. “I figured you’d know. She texted me this morning and asked if I’d take you because she had something to do.”
Vlad sat up in alarm. “She didn’t say where she was going?”
Colton opened the top drawer. “Maybe she had some more errands to run for the party. She didn’t tell you?”
No. She didn’t. Vlad checked his cell phone to see if he’d missed any texts from her. But nope. Nothing.
Colton pulled out a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. “Did you guys get in a fight or something?”
Vlad swung his legs off the bed and reached for his crutches. “No.”
“Then why didn’t she tell you she was leaving?”
“I don’t know,” Vlad lied. He knew exactly why. Because after whatever that was in the garage yesterday, she’d withdrawn back into her shell. After serving him dinner, she disappeared into her bedroom like every other night this week.
Vlad got dressed, brushed his teeth, and thought briefly about shaving. But at this stage of beard growth, it would take more time than he had. Colton helped Vlad down the stairs and into the front seat of his car before tossing the crutches into the back seat.
“Thank you for doing this,” Vlad said.
“Did you get any more writing done?” Colton asked as he pulled out of the driveway.
Vlad grunted.
Colton turned at the corner. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Vlad scowled at his reflection in the window. “And what?”
Colton waggled his eyebrows. “Did they kiss yet or not?”
“No.”
Colton tsked. “Don’t cheat your readers, man. It’s a romance. Give us the romance.”
“I know it’s a romance, but it has to make sense. And kissing right now would not be in character for them.”
“Or maybe you just don’t want it to be in character for them.”
Vlad twisted in his seat. “Why would I not want it to be in character for them? I like kissing. I love kissing. But the timing is still wrong.”
“Why?”
“Because Elena doesn’t want him to! She has made that absolutely clear.”
Colton tore his eyes from the road. “You mean Anna.”
“What?”
“You said Elena.”
Heat erupted from his cheeks. “No, I didn’t.”
Colton sucked on his teeth. “Yeah, you kind of did.”
“Obviously, I meant Anna.”
“Obviously.”
Vlad felt a vein pop in his forehead. “Fuck off.”
Colton started whistling to the radio.
They arrived at the arena twenty minutes late, but it was still more than enough time for word to spread that Colton Wheeler was in the house. Vlad left him signing autographs and posing for selfies in the hallway outside the medical facility.
Madison told him to wait for her in one of the consultation rooms. While he waited, he glanced at his cell phone for the hundredth time. Still no message from Elena. Of course, he could text her, but what would he say? Where did you go? That would sound whiny. Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? That would sound needy.
Why didn’t you kiss me yesterday? That would be downright pathetic.
Madison walked in then, knocking as she opened the door. “Ready for me?”
Vlad leaned on his hip and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Ready.”
The two grad students walked in behind Madison as she approached the bed. “We’re going to take a look at the incision before sending you in for the X-ray, so why don’t you lie back?”
Vlad reclined as Madison opened up the brace. “How’s the pain?”
“Fine. I haven’t had much.”
The other two trainers moved in next to Madison. “We’re going to take you through some range of motions, okay?”
Vlad tensed as one of the trainers slid a hand beneath his knee and gripped his ankle with the other. “Just relax,” Madison murmured.
Relax. Sure. His entire body was a lit fuse. His career was on the line. His wife was nowhere to be found. And his nerves hummed with frustration of the sexual kind. He forced himself to let out a long breath and loosen his muscles. One of the trainers lifted and bent his leg, heel toward his glutes.
“Good,” Madison said quietly.
For the next ten minutes, they manipulated his leg to gauge strength and flexibility. Every new position made him hold his breath, but there was no pain, and Madison seemed pleased with his progress.
“Okay,” she said finally. “You can sit up.”
Vlad crunched his abs to haul himself up. “Now what?”
“We’re going to have you put some weight on it.”
The trainers helped him off the table. He balanced on one foot and waited for Madison’s instructions.
“We just want you to stand, nothing else. Okay? When you’re ready, lower your foot to the floor.”
He held loosely onto the trainers’ arms as he extended his leg and touched the floor for the first time since the injury. He winced in anticipation of pain, of weakness. But when the sole of his shoe touched the ground, he felt neither. The trainers let go of him, and he damn near pumped his fist in victory.
He was standing.
On his own.
“Good,” Madison murmured. “How does it feel?”
“Fine. It is good.”
Madison smiled. “You’re doing great. Let’s get an X-ray to make sure the bone is healing well, and I think we’ll be ready to move you into the next phase of rehab.”
Madison handed him his crutches, and he followed her out of the room and down a hallway to the on-site X-ray room. They draped him in protective gear and once again had him lie down on a long table. The technician took several pictures from different angles, and then Madison told him to wait for her back in the consultation room as she reviewed the images.
He checked his cell phone as he waited.
Still nothing from Elena.
When the door opened again, Madison walked in with a confident smile. “Everything looks great.”
A half hour later, he crutched back out into the hallway with an updated rehab plan, a new brace, and still no message from Elena. He found Colton in the hallway, this time leaning suggestively toward a young woman in a trainer uniform who clasped an autographed towel to her chest.
“I’m done,” Vlad announced.
The young woman stammered and turned red as she jumped away from Colton like she’d just been caught making out with him. Colton turned around and grinned. “Hey, little butt. Do I still have to give you your baths or what?”
The woman excused herself and scurried away.
“Sweet girl,” Colton said.
“Leave her alone. She is probably still in college. And no, you don’t have to bathe me anymore. I can get the incision wet now.”
Colton gave a last look as the girl walked away. “So does that mean you’re healed, or what?”
Vlad crutched down the hallway. “No. But I get to start putting some weight on it next week and daily rehab.”
“Guess that means Elena doesn’t have to stick around much longer, huh?”
Vlad punched the button for the elevator. “What the hell does that mean?”
Colton shrugged innocently. “You’re going to be up and around on your own soon. No reason for her to stay.”
“I’m not going to be up and around on my own soon. I still have to use crutches for several weeks.”
“Yeah, but you won’t be quite as helpless.”
The elevator arrived, and they walked in together. Vlad punched another button. “What is your point, Colton?”
“Nothing. Just that she might not feel like there’s any reason to stay much longer.”
Vlad imagined throwing Colton against the boards. Instead, he rubbed the center of his chest. The feeling he didn’t like was back.
“You wanna grab some breakfast?” Colton asked. “I can call the guys, see who can meet us.”
The Six Strings Diner was their regular gathering spot, a local-favorite restaurant in downtown Nashville where he and his other highly recognizable pals could eat in peace. More than one painful secret had been shared over plates of enormous American breakfasts.
“Come on,” Colton cajoled. “I’m hungry, and we need to talk about all the sex your characters aren’t having.”
“Fine,” Vlad grumbled. At least it would give him something to do besides sitting at home and waiting for his wife. Colton texted the guys and asked who was available. Mack said he could be there in fifteen, Malcolm in ten, and Noah responded he was on his way. No one else could make it.
“You could just call her, you know,” Colton said as he pulled down the parking ramp.
“If she wanted me to know where she was, she would’ve told me.”
“You’re kind of stubborn, you know that?”
“Shut up.”
Colton obeyed, miraculously. Noah and Malcolm were already at the diner when they arrived and had grabbed their normal table. Colton earned a few surprised gasps and excited points, but for the most part, other customers left them alone. That was one of the reasons the guys ate there. It was a local place with few tourists to interrupt them.
“Good news,” Colton said, dropping into a chair. “Our boy here got clearance to wash his own magnificent ass from now on.”
“I’ve been washing my own ass,” Vlad said, picking up the menu. He had the whole thing memorized, though, so it was really just for hiding behind.
“He’s also really grumpy,” Colton said. “Elena left his morning without telling him where she was going.”
Mack walked in then and joined them at the table. “How’d your appointment go?”
“I am healing on schedule.”
“Well, that’s some news worth celebrating,” Mack said. “But does that mean we don’t get to bathe your stupendous ass anymore?”
“For the last time, I can wash my own ass!”
The waitress appeared right at that moment. She blinked but said nothing. The Six Strings staff was used to bizarre outbursts from their table. The guys all ordered their usual, and the waitress said she’d be back with their coffee and tea.
“Make any progress on the book?” Malcolm asked.
Colton snorted. “I already asked, and they still haven’t kissed.”
Noah groaned. “Come on. Do I have to smoosh their faces together?”
Vlad shook his head. “No. They are still not ready.”
“Or maybe Tony is just a wuss.” Colton shrugged.
Malcolm tsked. “That’s a gendered insult that you need to erase from your vocabulary, Colton.”
“What? No, it’s not. I use that word all the time.”
“It is a merging of wimp and pussy and is used to describe weak men with an implication of effeminacy. You can trace its roots to both misogyny and homophobia.” The guys all stared in reverent silence. Sometimes, Malcolm morphed into a professor, and they all learned something that made them better men. “Our society has allowed men to get away with a lack of emotional intelligence by equating the expression of a full range of human emotion with femininity.”
“My apologies,” Colton said. “What I’m trying to say is that Tony is a big, fat scaredy cat.”
The waitress returned with their drinks. When she left, Vlad growled. “He is not afraid. He is realistic.”
“Maybe it’s the author who’s afraid, then.” Malcolm said it with a raised eyebrow, a challenge against Vlad’s authorly manhood if he’d ever seen one.
“I am not afraid of my own book.”
Colton snorted. “Hell, you’re too scared to even let Tony admit to himself how he really feels about Anna.”
“He loves her!” He wanted to grab the words and shove them back in, because now that they were spoken, the guys would stop at nothing to make him do something about it. To make Tony do something about it, that is.
“Um, duh,” Noah said. “Anyone who can read sees that. The question is why you’re not letting him tell her.”
“You do not understand.”
“Obviously, because the way we see it, things are pretty simple,” Mack said. “Tony loves her. Anna obviously loves him—”
Vlad stiffened. “That is not obvious. She pulls away time and again. She gives him little tiny crumbs, just enough to make him want her, to make him have hope, and then she runs away every time. She is going to leave the minute she gets a clue about where Jack might be, and Tony knows that.”
“But she’s with Tony now,” Noah said calmly.
“Only because it’s her job.” He scowled.
“Bullshit,” Mack said. “He was a complete and utter asshole to her at first. She could have packed her things and hightailed it out of there. She even had plenty of reasons to do so. But she chose to stay with Tony. He just won’t see it.”
“No. That is not true.”
“She’s asking him to give her a reason to stay with him,” Noah said.
Vlad frowned. “Which is not the same thing as telling him she cares for him.”
“But it’s a goddamned start,” Mack said. “Why are you being so obtuse?”
“Because he can’t believe she could really want him!”
The silence that followed his outburst was humble and solemn. Probably because this time, the admission was like ripping open his chest and letting his heart fall right out onto the table while he bled out in a slow, agonizing death.
“Jesus, man,” Mack breathed. “Why would Tony think that?”
“He has his reasons.”
“Does Anna know the reasons?”
He shook his head. No. Anna didn’t know, because Tony couldn’t stand to think about what would happen if his reasons simply pushed her further away.
“You know, all that baggage that characters carry from their backstory,” Mack said. “Eventually, that fear becomes less of a motivation and more of a stubborn hindrance. Characters have to change during a book to earn their happy ever after.”
“I know that,” Vlad grumbled. He paused again when the waitress showed up with their breakfasts. Vlad scowled at his egg-white omelet.
“But Tony isn’t changing,” Malcolm said when the waitress walked away. “He’s clinging to his page-one fear. You have to give him some kind of midpoint plot twist to open up a new path.”
“And then he has to take it,” Mack said.
“He cannot risk it yet.”
“Risk what?” Malcolm asked. “His heart?”
Vlad nodded, poking his eggs with his fork.
“Jesus, dude, have you learned nothing from the manuals?” Mack snorted. “A man’s heart is the only thing truly worth risking.”
“But also the most dangerous,” Vlad fired back.
“Look,” Mack said. “You have two choices. Tony needs to tell her how he feels, or he needs to accept that she’s going to slip through his fingers, and you will have written the shittiest romance novel ever.”
Vlad stuck out his bottom lip. What he thought earlier, that he’d welcome their help, he was wrong about that. This sucked.
Malcolm steepled his hands beneath his chin. “Midpoints are a chance for characters to start rewriting their own stories. Let Tony start to rewrite his.”