Home > Books > A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5)(99)

A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5)(99)

Author:Lyssa Kay Adams

He’d seen it done a million times on TV shows and movies. Nothing, though, could have prepared him for the feeling of being placed on the hard back seat of a police car, his hands wedged painfully behind him. The officer clicked a seat belt around him and then asked him with discordant politeness if he was comfortable.

“I’m fine,” Colton said.

The officer nodded, backed up, and shut the door.

The last thing Colton saw before the cops pulled away was Gretchen in the window, silhouetted against the Christmas tree, watching it all.

* * *

? ? ?

Gretchen stood at the window until the last taillights disappeared. Somewhere behind her, chaos had taken over the house. Colton’s brother, whom she hadn’t even met yet, was raging in the kitchen. Mary was trying to calm him down to no avail.

A hand touched her arm. “Honey.”

Gretchen jumped. Mary had joined her at the window.

“Come to the kitchen,” Mary said. “I’ll make us some coffee. I doubt either of us are going back to sleep after this anyway.”

Gretchen should be the one making coffee. She should be the one doing the reassuring and the comforting. She was the reason everyone was awake. The reason Colton had just been dragged away in handcuffs.

“They won’t keep him,” Mary said, perhaps more to herself than Gretchen. “We’ll post bail as soon as we can, and he’ll be back in a few hours.”

Gretchen finally faced her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that. None of this is your fault.”

Gretchen sidestepped her and walked away from the window. “I—I need to go.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I have to do something.”

“There’s nothing either of us can do.”

A cell phone blared. Gretchen recognized a split second later that it was hers. She’d shoved it in the pocket of the sweatpants Colton had given her to wear. She dug it out with trembling hands. It was Elena.

Mary patted her arm. “I’ll go make that coffee.”

Gretchen answered as she sat stiffly on the couch. “Hi,” she said by way of a greeting.

“What’s going on?” Elena asked urgently. “Nashville Scene is reporting that Colton was just arrested.”

“How do they already know? It just happened.”

“It’s true?” Elena’s voice shook, as if she and Vlad had been hoping that the report was incorrect. She said something to Vlad in the background. Even if Gretchen didn’t understand a word of it—Elena and Vlad always spoke Russian with each other—the deep urgency of Vlad’s voice told her how worried he was.

“What happened?” Elena asked, returning to the phone.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the video.”

“It doesn’t even look like Colton. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“He was . . .” Gretchen’s voice broke. “He was standing up for me. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not. Where are you right now?”

“His house.”

“Stay there,” Elena said. “We’ll come over.”

“Don’t. His whole family is here. I don’t want to disturb them any more than they’ve already been.”

“We’re his family too.”

Her phone vibrated against her cheek with an incoming text. “I have to go. I’ll try to call later, okay?”

She hung up over Elena’s protest and checked her notifications. The text was from Liv. What’s going on? Mack and I are freaking out. Do you need us?

Another text came in. This time from Alexis. Are you okay? Do you want Noah and I to come over?

We’re his family too.

Yes, they were. They were as much Colton’s family as his parents and his sister and his nieces and nephews. One big happy functional supportive family.

And no matter what Colton said, she was screwing it up.

They could tell her a million times that this wasn’t her fault, but none of this would have happened if she hadn’t gone to see him in that dive bar and invited him into the chaos that was her family. If she hadn’t given in to temptation all those months ago at Mack and Liv’s wedding.

His reputation. His career. This arrest would forever be an asterisk next to his name. Soon, she had no doubt, his mug shot would be made public. It would be plastered all over the media and retweeted a million times, and she could practically write the headlines in her mind.

Soft footsteps on the carpet wrenched her from her thoughts. Jordan walked in carrying a sleepy Phoebe, her little hand rubbing her eyes.