The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(103)

Simon smiled at Hog. “Hey, big guy.”

Hog was afraid of most men. Emma had tried to get his history, but it was sketchy at best. Her guess was that he’d been abused, most likely by a male. Now there was only one man whom Hog melted for, and that was Simon.

He crouched low to Hog’s level. Her big doofus of a dog let his legs slide out from beneath him, which shook the foundation like an earthquake.

With a rough laugh, Simon used both hands to rub up and down Hog’s belly, where he melted into a puddle of goo.

Emma understood. Those big, warm hands of Simon’s had mostly brought her pain. They’d also brought her back to life.

It was odd to see him outside of a physical therapy session. She’d never seen him in anything but what she considered his PT uniform of a form-fitted performance T-shirt and basketball shorts. Today he was in Levi’s with a hole across one knee; an army-green, long-sleeve Henley; and battered sneakers. He had a few days of scruff going and she could see a few tats sticking out from where he had his sleeves shoved up to his elbows. He looked . . . real. Still crouched low, balanced on the balls of his feet, he stroked her dog and met her gaze.

Ned locked eyes on Simon before turning to Emma. “Who’s this?”

“A friend,” Simon said.

Ned didn’t take his eyes off Emma. “I didn’t know you were dating already.”

“I’m not,” Emma said. “Simon, this is Ted.”

“Ned,” said Ned.

Simon rose to his full height and smiled at Emma, 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 easily, as if not at all bothered by the slip, Freudian or otherwise. “And I’m Cindy, Emma’s best friend.”

“Also an ex,” Emma said, reaching 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. Emma had gone from the hospital to the rehab facility to the apartment she and Cindy had shared, the one that Ned now lived in, so she literally hadn’t been alone in nearly a year. At the moment, she was holding on by a bare, raggedy thread. If she wasn’t alone in the next sixty seconds, she was going to completely lose it.

“Seriously, Emma,” Ned said, coming up behind her. “You can’t do those stairs every single day. It’s too much for you.”

“Agreed,” Cindy said. “Come back home where you belong.”

What she needed was to get inside. Alone. Well, alone with Hog anyway, where she could collapse in shaky sweatiness in complete privacy.

“You good, Slim?” Simon asked her in a quiet, just-for-her voice.

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

“She’s fine,” Cindy said.

Okay, so the fiancé comment had gotten to her, probably every bit as much as Ned’s overly familiar “Emmie” had. “Yep,” she said. “I’m great.” She felt the weight of Simon’s gaze as he assessed her well-being for himself, which really pissed her off. She was a normal person now. Well, as normal as she got anyway, with her brain playing loosey-goosey with her memories and words, and her body apparently having its own mind. “Look, if you really want to be helpful, go down to the car and unload my boxes onto the sidewalk. Simon and I just have to finish up some paperwork.”

Simon lifted a brow, but didn’t contradict her.

Thankfully, the 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. He’d said her dog wouldn’t be a problem, but . . . “He doesn’t usually shed so badly.”

“That’s a big fib,” Simon said, sounding amused. He had a way of looking and sounding like a laid-back, easygoing guy without a care in the world. But she knew that wasn’t true because she’d seen exactly how much he cared about his work as a PT.

“Don’t worry, Emma,” he said quietly, breaking into her burning thoughts. “Four-legged fur-babies are always welcome here. Even the giant ones.”

She let out a relieved breath and nodded. “And I know we don’t have any more paperwork to do.”

“Just like you were messing with him when you called him the wrong name?”

She grimaced.

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

Grateful for his nonjudgment, she leaned on the wall for support. “I hate that I’m breathing like I just practiced for the half marathon I’d been planning to run BA.”

“BA?”

“Before Accident. And thanks for not calling me out in front of them. I just needed to get rid of them for a minute.”

“Understandable.” He shifted a little closer, smart-ass smile gone, no sign of Hard-Ass PT. “You really okay?”

“I’m fine. The key?”

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