Page 56 of Set on You

“Yeah. Love the action. Every call gets my adrenaline going. I mean, we get a lot of bullshit calls, but we treat each one the same. You never really know what you’re gonna get when you show up.” Seeing his face light up when he talks about his job is beyond attractive. “And it makes me feel close to my grandpa. Gives us something to bond over.”

“You must really look up to Martin, following in his footsteps,” I say, mesmerized by his passion.

“Yeah. We’ve always been pretty close.” His voice breaks slightly. “Especially after my dad and my grandma Sheila passed in the same year. About ten years ago. Makes you want to cherish the people you have in your life when stuff like that happens.”

My stomach turns to rocks at the revelation. “In the same year? I’m sorry, Scott. That’s awful.”

“My dad had a random heart attack. My grandma passed a few months later. Her health kind of deteriorated after my dad died.”

“Your dad must have been really young.”

“Yeah. No one saw it coming. He was really active. Always out running and biking. Trying to set new personal bests.” He pauses and takes another bite.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” I say affectionately.

His ashen expression revives itself, as though he doesn’t want to dwell. “Anyway, enough about that. You’ll like this story...”

As Scott downs the salad, he describes a medical call from a man who is a frequent caller. He wears a literal tinfoil hat and calls 911 at least three times a week, claiming a foreign government is leaving coded messages in the form of burning paper bags on his doorstep.

I giggle as he promptly moves on to the turkey wrap. He groans loudly on his first bite, sending a course of heat throughout my body. I shift, resettling in my seat, trying to think of literally anything else, like the stray piece of lint on my leggings.

“This is my new favorite food,” he declares.

“What was your favorite food before?”

“Ribs. Yours?”

“Clementines.”

His eyes widen in elation. “Those tiny Christmas oranges? They’re like crack.”

“Right? No one else appreciates them.”

“I like them. As long as there’s none of that white stringy stuff.”

I roll my eyes. “The pith? You have the eating habits of a small child, Scotty.”

He grins and takes another bite. “I have a sophisticated palate, thank you very much. And this shit is amazing.” When he smiles, I’m immediately reminded of how different our relationship is now, compared to a month ago. We still banter constantly, butthere’s a tenderness in his eyes now when he looks at me. Like he truly cares.

“I have a serious question for you,” I say hesitantly after a few moments of silence. “And you’re not allowed to lie.”

“Okay.” He seems unbothered by my tone.

“Did you hate my guts at the gym when we first met?”

“No.” He shakes his head, as if offended I’d even ask. “I don’t hate anyone. And I definitely didn’t hate you.”

“You didn’t have much of an issue stealing that squat rack from me. I even called you Squat Rack Thief until the engagement dinner.”

He bursts out laughing, his deep chuckle sending vibrations throughout my body. “Honestly, I was so stunned you were even talking to me that I didn’t really know what to do. I kind of just froze up. And I was actually gonna be late for work. Guess I came off like an asshole, huh?”

I set my head back on the headrest. “I mean, it was a quintessential asshole move. I was so pissed at you.”

He grins, like it’s a personal achievement to grind my gears. “Oh, I’m aware. I still remember the look you gave me. Pretty sure you could have frozen an entire country.”

“What about when I was putting Mel through sled pushes? Did you purposely steal our floor space?”

He swallows his bite. “Sure did.”

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