A pained expression crossed his face. “That was the truth. And yeah, I know you were joking about firing me, but . . .”

Her stomach hit her toes. “But . . . ?”

Simon shifted closer and met Emma’s eyes, his own revealing an easy and deep affection for her and . . . much more. Relief swamped her. So much that she stopped breathing.

Until he spoke.

“It can’t be a joke, Emma. I really can’t be your PT anymore. It’s gotten far too personal for us to be involved professionally.”

Her relief died a quick death. “Could you get in trouble?”

He shook his head. “Technically, there’s no law against this, but ethically, you need a new PT.”

“Because . . .”

“Because I crossed a line, Emma.”

“Actually, if we’re being technical,” she said, “you didn’t cross the line. At least not the finish line . . .”

His eyes warmed for a beat, and an almost smile quirked his lips.

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” she murmured.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry for anything that happened.” He did smile then, a small but genuine one. “I’m not.”

Just like any other day, he wore a calm, quiet authority, which always made her feel secure and safe. It was part of what made him a great PT. Using that calm to help her feel brave had also made him a good friend. He was more than the guy she’d sort of, kind of hooked up with. The truth was, Simon was one of the most important people in Emma’s new life, and she was afraid to lose him. “I know you’re feeling guilty, even though there’s no reason to,” she said, stepping closer, putting a hand to his chest. “We’ve both had a lot taken away from us. So much, Simon. And I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of it. What’s wrong with taking a little bit of something just for ourselves?”

“Nothing,” he said firmly. “And I hate how much of your life you lost. But you’re the most amazing, resilient woman I’ve ever met. You deserve far more.”

“More than you?” When she saw the affirmative answer in his eyes, she shook her head. “That’s for me to decide, not you.”

“Emma, my life’s . . . complicated.”

“Yeah? Join the club.”

“No, I mean . . . we can never be more than this.”

She shook her head, confused. “Why?”

He stared at her, then let out a rough breath. “Because I completely lose myself around you.” He shoved his fingers in his hair. “Every single time.”

The words were a thrill even as the tone of his voice scared her. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes, because you’re not ready, Emma.”

“Hey, I signed up for that 5K.”

“Ready for an ‘us.’”

That took her back a step and had her going from confused to ticked off. “Wow.” She shook her head. “Did you decide this before or after what we did on the roof?”

He closed his eyes. “This is what I’m telling you. I can’t tear myself away from you, even when I should. You . . .”

“I what?”

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “You nearly had a panic attack instead of an orgasm.”

“You mean a leg cramp.”

“No.” His voice was gentle. “That was panic, Emma.”

Feeling embarrassed and stupid, she crossed her arms. “I got over it pretty quickly.” Thanks to him . . . “If you don’t want me, just say so.”

“It’s the opposite.” He met her gaze, his own warm. “You make me smile. You make me laugh. You make my day, every single day.” He shook his head, looking marveled. “You’re so full of life that it reminds me my own life is so busy I don’t ever take the time for things like . . .”

“Sex on the roof?”

Simon reached for her, but Emma stepped back. “No.” She knew that she was a lot of things, but the type of woman to beg for a man’s attention was most certainly not one of them.

“So I got nervous last night, so what. It’d been a while. It’s perfectly normal.”

“It is normal,” he agreed. “For someone who’s still healing from a trauma.”

“I’m nearly all better!”

“Right. Ninety percent. Ish.”

She stared at him and then shook her head, too pissed off to speak.

“You need more time,” he said. “You’re holding back from getting fully healthy. Once you turn that corner, then—”

“Then what?” she challenged.

His voice lowered, gentled. “What happened to you didn’t just create physical scars, Em, there are emotional ones too. You’re not ready to open yourself up and let someone in.”

“Yeah, well . . .” She looked away, hating that that was probably true. Hating even more that he was using his professional voice. “Who doesn’t have emotional scars, huh?”

He murmured, “Touché.”

“And by the way,” she said. “I heard about two of your emotional scars.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Kelly has a big mouth.”

“She cares about you.”

“I know. But you should know, I wasn’t scarred by either of my past relationships. I’m still friends with them, it’s all good.”

“Okay, but if you weren’t scarred, it means you weren’t emotionally invested,” Emma said, voicing what she’d just realized. “So maybe it’s you who can’t open up, Simon. You ever think of that?”

He remained impassive, just looking at her, and she wondered how it was possible to feel worse now than when she’d woken up from a coma and discovered her life was upside down. Damn, she needed a good fast exit. Hard to do when she was sore and achy from PT, and being emotional on top of it all. “I’m going now.”

He reached for her. “I’ll help—”

She glared at him. “Not a chance in hell.” She opened the roof door. “I’m going to storm off now in righteous indignation, but we both know it’s going to take me a minute, so please let me have it with as much dignity as possible. Come on, Hog.”

Hog gave Simon one last longing look, then trotted to Emma. When he was through the doorway, she shut the door behind her with a satisfying thud.