“No harm done.”

“I can talk to your doctor and see if he has any concerns, if you want me to.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I doubt Star’s even interested in me that way. Right now, I’m just an escape. An almost-empty apartment for her to hide in.

He stands up. “You ready to work out?”

“Might as well.”

***

Two hours later, my entire body aches and my arms are burning like they’re on fire. I wheel myself back to my apartment. Logan called while I was at the gym and asked me if I wanted to help him with a nipple tat for a mastectomy patient. It’s kind of his specialty. Well, one of them. He can draw just about anything. He’s going to work with me on shading and mixing the colors, but he’s going to let me do some actual tattoos. But I have to take a shower first. I lift my arm to open the door and can smell my pits. I stink.

Daniel doesn’t hold back just because I’m in a chair. He worked my ass off. And my arms and all my other parts too. I complained once about the severity of the workout and he said, “Well, if you’d rather sit in the chair and do nothing, be my guest.” Then he started doing pull-ups by himself on a high bar.

“Dude, I can’t even get up there,” I said.

“Figure it out,” he told me.

I did. I went up the side of the bar, using nothing but my arms, kind of like climbing a rope. I think he was proud of me. But then he proceeded to work the shit out of me.

We’ve only worked out together a few times, but he has definitely done his homework on spinal injuries, because he modified exercises that mobile people would be doing. He worked me harder than I have ever worked.

I push myself into my apartment and stop short. Star is on my couch, eating popcorn and watching TV. She jumps up, tugging at the length of the T-shirt she’s wearing. I am pretty sure it’s mine. Damn, she’s got pretty legs.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” she says.

“I just need to shower and then I have to go to work.”

She follows me into the bedroom. “I thought you said you weren’t working today.”

“Logan called and said he wanted me to be there.”

“Oh.” She twirls a lock of hair on her finger, and I want to replace her finger with mine. I want to feel the silky smoothness of her hair against my skin.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okay,” she replies quietly.

“No, I don’t need any help with it.” My tone is sharp, and I immediately regret it when she stiffens. “Sorry,” I murmur.

“No, I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m still learning about you and your needs. But just because I ask questions and make stupid assumptions doesn’t give you free rein to be an ass. I don’t know anything about paralysis. But I do know about assholes, and I don’t stay with them if I can help it.” She picks a bag up off the floor and starts to put her things in it.

“Where did the bag come from?”

“My sister brought it.” She continues to stuff things into the bag. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

Crap. I didn’t mean to make her leave. “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t look up.

“I said I’m sorry.”

“I heard you.”

But she doesn’t stop packing.

I roll toward her and stop when I am close enough to touch her. “I’m sorry. Truly. Really sorry. I shouldn’t have bitten your head off. I’m just not used to having someone around.”

“Whatever.”

I grab her hand and hold her fingertips tightly, tugging on her arm until she stops and looks at me. She blows her bangs back with an upturned breath. Then her brown eyes meet mine.

“I’m really sorry. Don’t go. Stay.”

“Are you going to keep being an ass?”

“I’ll try not to.”

“I’ll try not to ask you if you need help.”

“You can ask. I won’t bite your head off. I’ll just say no thank you.”

“Okay,” she says quietly.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Maybe,” she hedges.

“Why are you here?”

She doesn’t reply. But I know that she’s rich, so she could have gone to a hotel if she wanted to.

“I don’t like to be by myself,” she finally says, her voice quiet. “That’s all.” Her eyes meet mine. “Am I bothering you? Being here?”

I love having her here. “Not at all.”

She smiles, and I swear my heart stutters in my chest. “Good.”

“Stop looking at me like that,” I tell her. But I really hope she’ll never, ever stop. She looks at me like there could be a spark there. A real spark between us.

“Like what?”

I grin. “Like you want to kiss me.” I lace my fingers with hers.

She lays her free hand on her chest. “You think I look like I want to kiss you?”

Yes, I know. Ludicrous.

She smiles at me. “You’re very astute.”

My heart skips. Suddenly, she turns and sits down in my lap. She grabs my shirt in her fists and pulls me to her. But she doesn’t kiss me. Not right away. Her lips hover over mine, and we’re breathing the same air for a minute.

I can’t stand it anymore. I grab her face in my hands and pull her all the way to me. I touch my lips to hers, and she’s startled for a moment. Then she mumbles against my lips. I think she says “Thank God,” but it could be anything.