“Ned,” her ex corrected.

Emma shrugged and pointed at her head, like sorry, coma . . .

Simon rose to his full height and smiled at her, clearly enjoying her using her temporary disability to her benefit. Ignoring the very slight flutter in her belly at the unexpected smile—very slight!—she rolled her eyes.

Ned held a hand out to Simon. “I’m Emma’s fiancé.”

“Ex-fiancé,” Cindy said very quietly, without a single hint of how she felt about the slip, Freudian or otherwise. “And I’m Cindy, Emma’s best friend.”

“Also an ex,” Emma said.

Cindy winced.

Emma reached out for the keys, belatedly realizing her fingers were trembling from getting up the stairs on her own steam.

Simon looked at those fingers, then into her eyes and . . . didn’t hand over the keys.

And here was the thing. He was perceptive. Too perceptive. She turned away.

“I don’t see you being able to handle those stairs every single day,” Ned said. “It’s too much for you.”

“Agreed.” Cindy nodded. “You should come back home, Emmie.”

That place was no more home to her now than the hospital or rehab had been. And if one more person called her “Emmie” she was going to lose it entirely. She turned again and found Simon watching her, amusement gone. “You okay?”

At his question, Ned looked at her and frowned. “You really are pale, Emmie. Are you okay?”

“Great, actually,” Emma said. “Think you guys could go down to Ned’s car and unload my boxes while I finish up the paperwork?”

Simon lifted a brow. He knew there was no further paperwork, but thankfully he didn’t contradict her, and her exes squared went back down the stairs.

Hog lumbered to his paws and shook. Fur flew around him like a halo. So did drool. Both were all over Simon’s jeans. She knew he’d told her that Hog wouldn’t be a problem, but . . . “I’m sorry. He doesn’t usually shed so badly.”

“Another fib.” Simon sounded amused again as he brushed Hog’s fur from his jeans. “Don’t worry, four-legged fur babies are always welcome here. Even the giant ones.”

Emma let out a relieved breath. “Appreciate that. I really needed to get out of my old place.”

“I can see that. Nice one on calling him the wrong name on purpose.”

She grimaced.

“Hey, I’m all for self-preservation,” he said.

Grateful for Simon’s nonjudgment, Emma leaned on the wall for support. “Damn. I hate that I’m still breathing as if I just ran a 5K, like I did BC.”

He smiled because he knew all about “BC.” She’d told him lots of things about her life Before Coma during their PT torture sessions. “So . . . the key?”

He inserted it into the lock for her and opened the door. “Do you need help with your boxes?”

“Nope, I’ve got it. Or rather the exes squared got it. There’s no way they’re going to leave me in peace until I’m settled. Or dead. Whichever comes second.”

His mouth curved slightly. “Nice to see your attitude is the same in or out of PT.”

“Don’t you mean my bad attitude?”

That bought her a smile, but he was smart enough not to comment. “I’ll leave you to it then, if that’s what you really want.”

“It is.” Hog pushed the top of his head against Emma’s palm again with a soft whine. Comforted by the touch, she leaned into him.

“Emma. You sure?”

Hell no. She wasn’t sure about anything. But the old Emma had lived to please others. Emma 2.0 didn’t want to do that. She was making changes. Up until now, her life had been about perceptions and keeping up with the Joneses. She’d worked several jobs, none of them paying well, but all of them adding to the image of a young woman at the top of her game: fit, able, and social media worthy.

But at the end of the day, when she’d been out of sight for a year, it hadn’t mattered, and every one of her wide circle of friends and acquaintances was gone.

Or boinking each other.

She’d been given a reset, a second chance that she’d crawled out of hell for, and she was going to do things right this time.

Simon was still waiting calmly for her to respond. She already knew he had patience in spades. He was gentle steel, always pushing her to the very ends of her endurance and beyond, waiting as long as it took for her to get it back together—which she always did. He’d proved that to her time and time again. He knew her limits better than she did. Resistance was futile.

“I’m sure,” Emma said. “I’ve only got the four boxes anyway, and one of them is a case of Girl Scout cookies.”

His approval of her toughness was in his smile. “I’m right downstairs if you change your mind.” He turned to the stairs and her gaze slid down his body. She might be off relationships, all of them, but she wasn’t dead. Good to know. “Wait. Why are you going to be downstairs?”

“Taking care of my dad, who lives in 1A. I had to move in with him for a bit after his strokes.”

“Right.” He’d told her this already. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I forget shit all the time and I have no excuse.”

Emma shook her head. “You forget nothing, including exactly how many reps I’m supposed to do, even when I try to cheat.”

Simon shrugged. “I was born with a cheat radar.”

She wished she’d been born with a cheat radar. That would have been handy before getting involved with Ned for nearly a year. “Thanks for getting me into this apartment.”

“Happy to help.”

Oh, how she hated to be helped, and given that he just laughed softly at the look on her face, he knew it too. When he left, she blew out a sigh. Simon thought he understood, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. No one could. After all she’d been through, after watching her parents give up a year of their lives to sit at her bedside and worry, her biggest fear now was to be a burden. To that end, she’d just last month finally gotten her parents to fly back to Florida, where they’d retired right after Emma had graduated from high school. A dream come true for them.

Not for her. She’d been to Florida to visit. She wasn’t a fan of the heat, the humidity, or the flatness of the landscape. Nope, she was a California girl through and through. Once upon a time, Emma’s biggest dream had been to run a half marathon. That seemed like a lifetime ago now.