Simon had done a lot for her, but not even he could produce that, so she really needed to get to the roof and feel some sense of accomplishment, had to know that in spite of so much being out of her control, she’d be okay simply because she was breathing.

And not thanks to a ventilator.

At her side, Hog nudged her hand with his big, warm head, then licked her palm. She bent and hugged him. “You’re right. We’ve got this.” He licked her cheek in agreement. They had this.

Straightening, they kept going. At the halfway point, Emma was more than a little wobbly, but she forged on because she wanted to watch the stars, dammit. She wanted . . . well, what she also wanted was a little embarrassing.

She wanted Simon to be there.

At the landing, Hog dropped to the floor dramatically, panting like he’d just run a marathon. If Emma had the air left to laugh, she would have. Instead, she bent over at the knees and gasped for breath too. “Man, we’re so out of shape.”

Hog sent her a baleful look.

“Yes, both of us.” The coma had taken a lot from her, including her endurance. Simon kept promising she’d get it back, but when? “One more flight to go.” And with that, she drew a deep breath and started, Hog reluctantly at her side, her ever faithful wingman.

Even if he was only in it for the scrambled eggs.

Still, it felt like the very definition of love. Hog had no desire to get back into shape. Zero. None. But because she did, he was along for the ride, no questions asked.

If only the humans in her life had been half as kind.

There’d been more than a few nights over the past year when she’d let herself, in the deep dark of the night, mourn for what she’d lost. Her jobs, her livelihood. Her best friend. The man she’d thought she loved. No matter how much she pretended not to care, she did care.

She’d done her best to lift her chin and carry on, not to mention move on, but sometimes late at night the loneliness got to her. Not enough to want either of the exes squared back in her life, hell no. Life was too short. But enough to sometimes—only sometimes—question her no-more-relationships rule.

Ignoring the trembling in her limbs, Emma kept going. Halfway up the last set of stairs, she tripped. With a gasp, she just managed to catch herself from taking a header.

Hog whined and nudged her shaking thigh with his head.

“I’m okay, buddy.” Still breathing too fast, she clung to the rail and lowered herself to sit. How she’d done this before, she had zero idea.

Hog climbed into her lap. With a rough laugh that might have been almost tears, she dropped her sweaty face into the thick fur at his neck. Then she heard someone on the stairs below her and froze. A drop of sweat slid between her breasts, from exertion and now also nerves because she felt too exposed for public consumption.

And yep, those were definitely footsteps. She hadn’t met any of her neighbors yet, but suddenly she wanted it to be anyone but Simon . . .

“Here. Sip this.”

So of course it was him. Emma opened her eyes to find him holding out a smoothie. A green smoothie. She was not a fan of green, and he knew this.

“Tastes like bananas,” he coaxed. “You like bananas.”

She raised a brow. “You think drinking this is going to get me up the rest of these stairs?”

“No, I think your bad attitude is going to get you up the stairs. But the protein shake is definitely going to help.”

“Again, it’s green.”

“Green is delicious.”

“Sure, if it’s Apple Jacks.” She shook her head. “I feel like a gentleman would offer to carry me the rest of the way.”

He gave her a considering look. “I’m either Hard-Ass PT or a gentleman, which is it going to be?”

The old Emma wanted Simon the gentleman because she really wasn’t all that sure she could make it the rest of the way herself. Plus, she wouldn’t mind having his hands on her outside of PT . . . No, wait. That was Emma 2.0 talking. “Can’t I have both?”

He laughed. Then he got a better look at her face and his smile faded. Holding on to the smoothie himself, he passed her on by, stopping at the door at the top, where he once again held out the smoothie.

“Well, now you’re too far away,” she said.

“Did I mention I put peanut butter and a dab of chocolate in here?” He took a dramatic sip so that it left a liquid mustache. A green mustache. “Mmm.” He slowly licked his lips. “Delicious.”

“That’s just mean.”

He took another sip. “Sure hope you make it up here before it gets all melty.”

Her mouth was actually watering, the bastard. She counted how many stairs were left. Eight. She pushed herself up and tackled half of them before having to stop and gasp for breath.

“You’ve got this, Emma.”

She sighed and kept moving, stopping when she couldn’t move another inch—one step from the top.

“Only one left.”

“That last step and I haven’t worked things out.”

He just waited. Patient. Calm.

“You should know, I’m going to push you down the stairs when I get to you.”

Another slurp of her shake was his only answer.

Hog hopped up onto the landing and she glared at her dog. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Simon pulled a dog cookie from his pocket.

Hog inhaled it without even chewing.

“That’s low. Coaxing my dog to the dark side. How did you know to have the smoothie and dog cookie on you?”

“Maybe I’m looking out for you.” He offered her a hand.

Stubborn to the bone, Emma shook her head. “I’ve got this.”

“Just trying to help so you don’t have to wrestle with that ten percent of you that isn’t ready to be healed.”

Oh, how she hated that he knew her so well as to be able to stomp all over her biggest fear. Hated even more how emotional it made her feel. Eyes burning, throat tight, chest aching, and worse, still sweating from the physicality of getting all the way up without dying, she ignored his proffered hand, took the last stair herself, and then . . . walked right into him and held on tight.

Simon stilled for a beat, then crouched to set down the shake and wrapped his arms around her.

“Sorry,” she whispered, but not sorry enough to let go. “I’m all sweaty.”