Emma rolled her eyes. After a sip, she sighed and relaxed. “Thanks,” she said, her voice softer. Warmer. “I mean, I wanted chocolate, but this’ll do. So. You’ve lived in this building your whole life?”
Mirroring her position, Simon leaned his head back and closed his eyes. God, he was tired. “On and off. My grandparents handed the property down to my dad. I grew up in 1A.”
“Where you’re now living with your dad.”
“Yeah. A newish development. He needed the assist, so I moved back in. I come up here to clear my head.”
“It’s a good head-clearing space,” she agreed, and then she did something he loved.
She just sat still and let him be. The silence was glorious. He’d been bummed to have his space invaded, but turned out he didn’t mind her company at all.
Crickets sang. Wind rustled the old gorgeous oaks lining the yard. After a while, Emma turned her head to him, and he felt her taking him in. “You look almost as bad as I feel. Rough one?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Just work shit.”
“Wow,” she said dryly. “You’re really good at sharing.”
He had to laugh. “Not my strong suit. How’s the job hunt going?”
“You know, you’d think a woman with a numb left arm and a habit of mixing up her words and forgetting . . . well, everything would be in more demand.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I’ve had a lot of interviews, but no bites.” She shrugged. “It’s not like I’m being picky either. I offered to pick up additional shifts at Paw Pals, but my boss doesn’t need more hours from me, and the dog training isn’t going to pay the bills. I even interviewed for phone sales the other morning, and I hate sales.”
“What do you want to do? What are you good at?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know anymore.”
“Emma—”
“No, I don’t need empty platitudes, honest. I’m just grateful you were able to get me into the apartment. Without you, I’d be stuck with the exes squared or moving to Florida to live on my parents’ couch.” She shuddered dramatically.
“Speaking of the exes squared . . .” He’d known she’d had a fiancé. She’d been wearing a ring in the hospital, but then when he’d seen her in rehab, the ring had vanished. “So while you were fighting for your life, the guy who’d asked you to marry him slept with your best friend?”
“Ex–best friend. But yes.”
Jesus. At least he’d been dumped while able-bodied, not completely helpless. “Want to talk about it?” Simon asked, trying to keep his anger for her out of his voice.
“Not even a little bit.”
He nodded his understanding of that. Hog deserted Emma and climbed on top of Simon for a cuddle. He wrapped his arms around the big guy, who set his heavy head on Simon’s shoulder.
“Traitor,” Emma murmured with no heat and possibly even a smile in her voice. “He likes it up here too. So why do you need a hideaway, Simon Armstrong?”
“Work. Life.” He shrugged. “Up here I don’t have to think about anything hard. It’s my safe-space bubble from the real world.”
“Sorry I broke into it.”
“I’m not.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, her gaze locked on his for a long beat before she turned back to watching the stars now twinkling down on them. A slow-moving cluster of clouds began to streak the sky.
“That one looks like two dragons doing it,” she said out of the blue.
It really did, and he laughed, then gestured to two puffy round clouds just barely touching. “What about those?”
She snorted. “If you say boobs . . .”
He laughed again. “Oh, so you can point out dragons getting down, but I can’t point out boobs?”
“Just sayin’, it’s a very guy thing to see.”
“Well, I am a guy, so . . .”
“Hmmm.” She took another sip of beer, staring up at the sky. “I mean, yeah, okay, they do look like boobs, but they’re definitely store bought.”
“And?”
She sidled him a look. “Do guys really like that sort of thing?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure we’re that picky.”
She smiled and sat up slowly, unsuccessfully hiding her wince. She stretched her arms and her neck and winced again. When she caught him watching her, she shook her head at him. “I’ve just been doing more than I should. Unpacking and stuff.”
“I’m surprised that your ex didn’t offer to unpack you.”
“Oh, he was done unpacking my stuff the day of the accident.”
“He clearly wanted to stick around and do something for you.”
“Yeah, well, the last thing he did was my best friend so I think he’s done enough. And it’s not like I can really blame him. A year’s a long time to wait.”
“Not if it’s the right person.”
She looked at him again, and something happened to the air between them. It crackled with a new energy. Not much surprised Simon anymore, but Emma had from the very beginning, and now was no different. Before this past week, she’d never looked at him in a way to suggest she might be interested in him as something other than her PT. But he was pretty sure she was looking at him that way now.
It stole his breath.
“I need to tell you something,” she said quietly.
“Anything.”
“I’m off men.”
The words made sense, but completely contrasted with the way she’d shifted closer. He’d done the same, which was stupid and dangerous on his part. She’d been hurt enough, and he moved back.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I said that, why I thought you should know.”
Simon was torn between the urge to touch her and trying to ignore the way her eyes drank him up. But then she made a soft sound that went right through him in the very best of ways and closed her eyes for a single breath before meeting his gaze again. “It’s just that there’s something here, isn’t there?”
He gave a slow nod. “Yeah, there is.” And while Emma might be surprised by it, he wasn’t because he’d been doing his best to pretend it didn’t exist for a long time now.
“But I really am off . . . everything,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” he whispered back.
She shifted her weight to straighten out her left leg, which he knew still cramped up on her. She needed at least one more surgery to fix what was suspected to be a slipped screw from her tib-fib fracture, but could also be damaged nerves. “Did you get the date of your next surgery yet?”
She looked relieved at the subject change. “I’m still working it out with insurance.”
Unfortunately, she had crap insurance coverage. As a PE teacher at a local private high school, she’d been an independent contractor. The self-employed coverage options were appalling, and as far as he was concerned, also a crime. She’d gotten a settlement, not nearly enough in his mind, and certainly not enough to pay for an out-of-pocket surgery. “Need me to help you stretch that out?”