Page 46 of Crave Thy Neighbor

I shift my head back. “Blood work? Is everything okay?”

“Yep. Just a checkup.”

“You get checkups?”

He tilts his head, furrowing his brows, looking at me over the bed of the truck. “Aren’t I supposed to?”

“Well, yeah. I guess I’m just surprised. Most guys don’t do the doctor. You have to twist their arms to get them to go.”

“Most guys or your ex?”

My cheeks heat. “Well, I guess he’s really the only guy I’ve ever known in that capacity.”

Something flashes in his eyes, but I’m not quite sure what it is. It’s gone just as fast as he drops his gaze and gets into the truck.

I follow his lead, hopping into the other side.

He doesn’t say anything again until we’re pulling onto the road.

“My dad died of lung cancer five years ago. He owned a body shop and spent a lot of time in a paint booth. Due to the nature of my job, I get my lungs checked once a year to be safe. I hadn’t had my blood work done in a couple of years, so we went ahead and did that too.”

My heart drops. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t realize.”

He lifts his big shoulders. “It’s okay. No harm, no foul.”

It’s the second time he’s said that, and I hate it less this time than the first.

“Was he…sick for long?”

I don’t know why I ask it, but I can’t take it back.

“I’m not sure. He hid it for a long time, coughing up blood and stuff. He didn’t think it was a big deal, I guess. He passed about a month after he was diagnosed.”

My heart aches for him. I’ve never had to watch a loved one die, and I can’t imagine what that must feel like.

“You remind me of him,” he says, surprising me.

“I do?”

He nods. “He was a single parent, too. Stubborn as shit. Never wanting to ask anyone for help. Determined to make it by on his own.”

“You calling me stubborn, Romeo?”

His lips twitch. “Maybe. But my dad, he was strong too. Resilient. I haven’t known you long, but from what I’ve seen, you fit that bill exactly.”

He slides his eyes my way, and my heart flutters at the honesty I see shining in them.

I blink back my tears, shifting in the passenger seat of the truck at the attention. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“Welcome.”

He pulls into a fast-food place and we grab a couple of sausage biscuits and hash browns. He must be starving because he gets enough food for four people. I try to pay, but he ignores my efforts.

We’re both so famished we don’t talk the rest of the ride, too busy stuffing our faces on the way to the apartment.

Nolan parks the truck right in front of the building as I’m tossing the last hash brown into my mouth, then he pulls his phone from his pocket.

He presses a few buttons, then holds it up to his ear.

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