Page 61 of Crave Thy Neighbor

I look away as Patrick wraps him in a hug, letting them have this moment together.

As much as I wish Patrick would put his phone down or make his time with Sam a priority a little more often, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that he loves his son more than anything in the world.

One of the few times I’ve seen him cry was when I asked for a divorce. It wasn’t because our marriage was ending, but because he was scared I would take Sam away from him.

He never had to worry about that though.

“See you later, Sammy,” he says, then he leans toward me and presses a kiss to my cheek. “I’ll call you sometime this week.”

I nod, fighting the urge to wipe off his kiss. It’s not something new. He always kisses my cheek, but somehow him doing it in front of Nolan feels wrong.

Which is ridiculous as hell. Nolan is nobody but my roommate.

“Bye, Patrick.” I usher Sam off the porch as Patrick heads for his brand-new coupe.

“Did you have fun at your dad’s?” I ask Sam as we make our way back to Nolan’s truck.

He bobs his head. “We played laser tag Friday night and I whooped his ass.”

“Your dad was always awful at laser tag.” I should probably get on to him for cussing, but he doesn’t do it often, so I let it slide.

“You’ve played him before?”

“Yep. Our first date. I, too, whooped his ass.”

He laughs as we pile into Nolan’s truck as Patrick pulls out of the driveway. Nolan watches the car as it passes by us, then he peeks over at me.

“Good?”

I nod.

He turns around to Sam and puts his fist out for a bump. “’Sup, shithead?”

“Hey, Nolan.”

They clash their knuckles together, then Nolan turns back around, puts the car in drive, and starts down the road.

“Did you just call my son a shithead?”

“Yep.” He says it so matter-of-factly, and I grin, loving how he doesn’t back down even though I am definitely giving him my best mom stare right now.

“And why is he a shithead?”

“Because when Dean nailed me in the nuts with the football, your son laughed for ten minutes straight, then proceeded to make fun of me because I allegedly cried.”

I lift a brow. “Well, did you?”

“Hell yes I cried! Have you ever been sacked in the nuts with a football flying through the air at like forty miles per hour?”

I snicker. “Can’t say I have.”

“Exactly, so pipe down over there, no-nuts.”

“Yeah, Mom,” Sam says, “if you don’t have nuts, you don’t get a say.”

“Can we leave my nonexistent nuts out of this?” I glance between the two of them. “I’m feeling very ganged up on right now.”

They shrug in unison, and I grin.

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