Turning just her head, Emma assessed Simon with that dark gaze of hers before letting out a sigh and dropping her head to the back of the love seat. “I’m dealing. Somehow, I decided it’d be a great idea to push myself with the stairs, but then I found the second, hidden staircase, and decided to push even more—and then I was too tired to get back down. I live here now, right on the roof. I plan to die here. There are worse places, right?”

Simon gave a low laugh, but something in his chest tightened at her admission, making him want to reach for her and pull her in. Problem was, Emma hated being coddled even more than she hated needing help, so he simply nodded.

“Not a bad place to live,” he said. “And great job getting up here, by the way. Two additional staircases, and that last one’s a bitch. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. It took me an hour and nearly an Uber, but I’m too broke to call one.”

She had to get a ride wherever she wanted to go now, since after her accident last year, and during her third surgery, she’d had a seizure. Protocol had necessitated putting her on a seizure med for one full year—which prohibited her from driving during that time.

She had three weeks left on that sentence.

“You know you can call me anytime, right?”

She shrugged.

“Emma.”

“Okay, I know. But I don’t want to have to.”

“Everyone needs an assist every once in a while.”

“Yeah?” She swiveled her gaze to him again. “When do you need an assist ever?”

He laughed. “All the damn time.”

She seemed intrigued by this. “Name one.”

“Whenever I need to do anything outside regular business hours, which means outside of my dad’s day care, when my cousin steps in for me. I’m here right now because of that help.”

She thought about that and nodded. “Okay, I stand corrected.” She lay back. “It’s nice up here. I was enjoying being alone and watching the water before you came in and looked at me all worried and concerned, like I’m broken.”

He snorted. “You’re not even close to broken. As for being alone up here, hate to break it to you, but I’ve been coming up here my whole life to be alone, especially this past year while you’ve been slacking.”

Emma gave an unexpected laugh that just about stopped Simon’s heart as she sent him a side-eye. “Do you know you’re still the only one who’ll joke about my life with me?”

“You gotta joke the bad away, or what’s the point, right?” He thought of his dad, who’d once been so intense and unbending, but poststroke had mellowed into a guy who didn’t have the capacity to hold on to bad shit. “What’s happened is a part of you now. Doesn’t mean you have to take it seriously all the time. Joking is healthier than not dealing.”

“Oh, I think I’ve done enough dealing for a lifetime.”

He chuckled in agreement as she slowly scooted over to make room for him. He opened the icebox that was his coffee table, the one he’d dragged up here from the attic. He’d run a cord back inside it for electricity. He took out a beer, opened it, and offered it to Emma.

Though he sat on her left, she used her right arm to reach for it. If they’d been in PT, he’d have called her out on it and made her work her left arm. She actually gave him a measured, expectant look, daring him to say something.

He just smiled as he grabbed another beer for himself.

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.