He looked as if he was going to ignore the question or redirect, both of which I would have expected. Instead, he shocked me. “I had what they call a cerebrovascular accident.”

“A stroke?” I asked.

He nodded, looking surprised that I knew the term. I didn’t feel the need to enlighten him that I hadn’t until now. Instead, I studied him. How could he have had a stroke? He was only a few years older than me. A stroke or a cerebrovascular accident was an old man’s condition. It simply didn’t compute.

“Yes, a stroke,” he said. He glanced down at the chair with chagrin. “I got lucky. I didn’t lose my powers of speech, my brain was unharmed, and the side of me that went slack came back, mostly.”

“Is that what’s wrong with your leg?” I asked. I still hadn’t been able to figure out how he’d rescued me from the falling weights. “Did it not recover?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “The truth is I’m a medical anomaly. There’s a residual weakness in my left leg and my left arm. It comes and goes with no warning. One minute I’m fine and the next thing I know, my left side gives out and I crumple into a heap. It’s . . . very frustrating.”

“I can imagine,” I said.

“Other people have it much, much worse.” His smile was wry. “At least that’s what I keep telling myself.”

“When did it happen?” I asked.

“A little over nine months ago,” he said.

“I’m sor—” I bit off the words I was certain he didn’t want to hear. His mouth tipped up in the corner. He was clearly amused by my propensity for apology.

“That sucks,” I said. His smile grew deeper as he no doubt remembered saying the same thing to me about my mother’s death. “Is that why you retired?”

“Partly,” he said. “I was already getting the itch to do something else, but I’m a builder. That’s who I am, that’s what I do. I was considering my options when the stroke happened and changed everything.”

My curiosity flared, but I felt like it would be bad form to grill him for more details about such a personal event. Sort of like when someone tells you they’re getting divorced. I don’t know about you, but I want all the intel, which was why, given my own past, I usually offered up the reasons for my divorces right at the start. Nick did not offer up the who, what, when, where, and why, however, so I kept my lips zipped, although it about killed me.

“Enough about that.” He gestured to the window, where my work setup was clearly visible. “Still going at it?”