Page 5 of Between the Lines

Paige barely stifled a snort.

“See you around, Paige Wheeler.” Darcy smiled like they’d just discussed the weather, then she strolled toward the exit, hair swinging, posture perfect, like she hadn’t just set Paige’s day on fire.

Paige stayed on the treadmill. Her legs kept moving, but her mind was already working, sorting and filing and building a plan.

Darcy Lane. A new resident who’d watched her videos and had opinions about what Paige did and didn’t say. Who seemed to know something about Paige’s divorce.

Paige felt something stir in her chest. Anger, for sure, but also something else. That old familiar heat of humiliation. The kind she’d promised herself she would never feel again.

Her phone buzzed in the cup holder. Paige stared at it for half a second before tapping the screen. She had a notification about a new comment on one of her older videos. The one where she’d talked about moving to the Colony and choosing to put herself first.

The username was unfamiliar and there was no profile picture, just a gray silhouette. The comment read: We should chat. I’m closer than you think.

Paige’s fingers tightened around the phone. It had to be Darcy, but Paige didn’t look around wildly. She didn’t panic. She wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her rattled.

She simply took a long breath, slowed the treadmill to a walk, and stepped off with calm, deliberate precision. She might not be the kind of woman who suffered fools, but she was absolutely the kind of woman who handled problems before they grew teeth.

She went to the leg-press machine, carrying on with her day as planned. She was not going to let Darcy get under her skin or ruin her routine. But she was absolutely going to take action.

She glanced at the time. Soon.

Chapter Two

The beach was quieter in the mornings, before the umbrellas bloomed and the residents and occasional tourist staked their claims.

Blaise liked it quiet. She liked the shoreline unblemished, before the flat, pale sand was marked with footprints that would be erased again by evening. She loved how the Gulf stretched out in soft bands of blue-green and the waves rolled in, leaving delicate lacy trails of froth in their wake.

She walked barefoot at the edge of the water, where the sand was cool and packed just right, Beau trotting a few feet ahead with his nose down and his tail up, already deeply invested in whatever mysteries the tide might have delivered overnight.

Brick walked on her other side, close enough that their arms brushed now and then. He wore a faded T-shirt and old cargo shorts, his stride easy but deliberate, like a man who had places to go and things to do. Even if he didn’t.

She was glad he’d agreed to come along on the walk this morning. She thought it would be good for him to get some fresh air and have a change of scenery from the hospital.

Blaise breathed in deeply, letting the salt and sun center her for the day ahead. Mornings were when her mind was clearest. And, unfortunately, when it was hardest to avoid thinking about all that was going on.

“How’s Holland doing?” she asked.

Brick didn’t answer right away. He watched Beau as the dog skidded to a stop and barked at a retreating wave.

“Better,” Brick said at last. “At least, that’s what they tell me.”

Blaise glanced over. Brick’s expression was neutral, but she’d learned to read the small tells. The way his jaw tightened. The way he squinted slightly, as if something ahead of them required extra scrutiny.

“And what do you think?” she asked. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”

Brick exhaled a quiet breath. “I think ‘better’ is relative. They’ve got him up and moving. Physical therapy’s pushing him, too. Which he hates. I suppose that’s a good sign.”

“It is,” Blaise said gently. “Hating physical therapy usually means you’re ready to get back to your life.”

“That’s what the therapist said.” Brick’s mouth curved faintly. “Holland told her she was a sadist.”

Blaise smiled. “That sounds like something you’d say.”

Brick nodded. “Suppose it does. He’s frustrated. He wants to be farther along than he is. He wants to be done with all of this and get back to his usual routine. I get that.”

“So do I,” Blaise said.

Brick looked at her then, a question in his eyes.