CHAPTER FIVE: LINES IN THE SAND

The sound of Devon's voice counting reps had become the soundtrack to Bella's mornings.

"Twelve... thirteen... come on, Marcus, give me two more. I know you've got it in you."

Bella stood in the kitchen doorway with two water bottles, watching the garage gym through the

open door. She'd learned to time these deliveries perfectly, not too early when they were just

warming up, not too late when Marcus was exhausted and irritable. Right at the twenty-minute

mark, when Devon pushed hardest.

"I can't," Marcus grunted, his arms shaking as he tried to pull himself up on the modified bar

Devon had installed.

"You can. Fifteen. One more."

The muscles in Devon's forearms flexed as he spotted Marcus, hands hovering just below his

friend's ribcage, ready to catch him if needed. His biceps strained against the sleeves of his

gray Nike shirt, and Bella found herself staring at the way his shoulders moved, powerful and

controlled.

She looked away quickly, guilt pricking at her conscience.

"There it is!" Devon's triumphant voice pulled her attention back. "Fifteen. That's three more

than Monday, brother."

Marcus collapsed back into his wheelchair, chest heaving. His face was red, sweat dripping

from his chin, but there was no pride in his expression. Only exhaustion.

"Water break," Bella announced, stepping into the garage with a brightness she didn't feel.

Devon turned, and their eyes met for just a second. Less than a second. But in that fraction of

time, something passed between them that made Bella's pulse quicken.

"You're a lifesaver," Devon said, taking the bottle. His fingers brushed hers.

It meant nothing. It was nothing.

So why did her hand feel warm where he'd touched it?

"How's he doing?" Bella asked, handing Marcus the second bottle. He took it without looking at

her.

"Strong. Getting stronger every day." Devon grabbed a towel, wiping his face. When he lowered

it, Bella caught herself watching a bead of sweat trail down his neck, disappearing beneath his

collar.

Stop it.

"Doesn't feel strong," Marcus muttered, drinking deeply.

"That's because you're comparing yourself to before." Devon's voice shifted into his physical

therapist mode, patient, professional, encouraging. "You need to compare yourself to last week.

Last month. Three months ago, you couldn't do five pullups. Now you're doing fifteen."

"Can't walk, though." Marcus's voice was flat. "Can't do a lot of things."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning Bella couldn't quite grasp. Or didn't want to.

"Walking's not the only measure of strength," Devon said quietly.

Marcus laughed, bitter and sharp. "Easy for you to say."

Bella felt the familiar helplessness rising in her chest. Every conversation led here eventually, to

the edge of Marcus's anger, his grief, his self-loathing. She never knew what to say, how to pull

him back.

But Devon did.

"You're right," he said simply. "It is easy for me to say. I'm not in your position. But I am the guy

who had his chest cracked open at twenty because his heart decided to quit on a Tuesday. So

maybe I know a little bit about feeling broken."

Marcus's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue.

"Ten minute break, then we're doing core work." Devon tossed his towel over his shoulder.

"Bella, you mind grabbing the resistance bands from upstairs? I think I left them in my room."

"Sure." She turned toward the house, grateful for an excuse to leave.

"Second drawer of the dresser," Devon called after her.

Bella climbed the stairs quickly, her mind still replaying that moment, eyes meeting, fingers

touching, nothing and everything all at once. She was being ridiculous. Devon was Marcus's best friend. He was here to help. The fact that he was attractive didn't mean anything. She'd

always known he was attractive. She'd thought the same thing at their wedding when he'd given

his best man speech.

But you weren't starving then.

The thought came unbidden, and Bella shoved it away as she reached the second floor. The

three men had claimed the spare bedrooms, Devon in the largest, Liam in the room with the

best morning light, Ethan in the smallest one that he'd already filled with computers and books.

She knocked on Devon's door out of habit, even though he'd sent her up here. No answer,

obviously. She pushed it open.

The room was neat, almost military in its precision. Bed made with hospital corners, laptop

closed on the desk, a small stack of physical therapy journals beside it. The only personal touch

was a framed photo on the nightstand, the four of them in college, Marcus in the center with his

arms around his three best friends, all of them laughing at something long forgotten.

Bella moved to the dresser and opened the second drawer. Resistance bands, just like he'd

said, coiled neatly beside carefully folded t-shirts. She grabbed the bands and started to close

the drawer.

Something caught her eye.

A book, partially hidden under the shirts. The cover was plain black, no title visible. Bella knew

she shouldn't look. Knew it was a violation of privacy.

She looked anyway.

Her hand reached for it almost of its own accord, pulling it out just enough to see the spine. A

journal. Devon kept a journal?

"Find them okay?"

Bella slammed the drawer shut, spinning around with the resistance bands clutched to her

chest. Devon stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, watching her with an expression she

couldn't read.

"Yes. Sorry. I was just…"

"Looking for the bands. I know." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I sent you up

here."

Had he? Or had he come to check on her?

"Marcus is asking for you," Devon said. "Says he needs help getting back in the chair properly. I

think he's stalling because he doesn't want to do core work."

Bella laughed, the sound coming out higher than normal. "That sounds like him."

She moved toward the door, toward Devon, and realized too late that the doorway wasn't wide

enough for both of them. She'd have to squeeze past, or he'd have to move.

He didn't move.

"Excuse me," Bella murmured.

Devon stepped back, barely. Just enough that she had to turn sideways to pass, her body

inches from his. She could smell him, soap and clean sweat and something else, something

masculine that made her mouth go dry.

Their eyes met again.

This time, it lasted longer.

"Bella…" Devon started, his voice low.

"Devon! Bella! We doing this or what?" Marcus's voice carried up from the garage, irritated and

impatient.

The spell broke. Bella ducked past Devon and practically ran for the stairs, the resistance bands

still pressed against her chest like a shield.

Behind her, she heard Devon exhale slowly.

She didn't look back.

That afternoon, Bella volunteered to pick up groceries. Anything to get out of the house, away

from the garage where Devon was putting Marcus through another round of exercises, away

from her own thoughts that kept circling back to moments that meant nothing.

Had to mean nothing.

The supermarket was blessedly normal, fluorescent lights, pop music playing overhead, families

with crying toddlers in shopping carts. Real life. Mundane life. Life that didn't involve forbidden

attraction to her husband's best friend.

She was reaching for a carton of eggs when her phone buzzed.

Devon: Marcus is in the shower. Wanted to apologize if I made you uncomfortable earlier. Not

my intention.

Bella stared at the message, her heart doing something complicated in her chest. She should

respond immediately, brush it off, make it nothing.

She typed: You didn't. All good.

Then deleted it. Too casual.

No need to apologize. Everything's fine.

Delete. Too formal.

Her phone buzzed again.

Devon: You don't have to respond. Just wanted you to know.

Another buzz.

Devon: Also Marcus wants the protein powder with the blue label, not the green one. He's very

specific about this apparently.

Bella found herself smiling despite everything. Trust Devon to defuse the tension with something

completely mundane.

Blue label. Got it.

She grabbed the eggs and moved on to the next aisle, forcing herself to focus on her shopping

list. Bread, milk, chicken breasts, the vegetables Marcus rarely ate anymore but that she kept

buying anyway, hoping.

She was debating between romaine and spinach when she heard her name.

"Bella Black? Oh my god, it is you!"

Bella turned to find Jennifer Morrison, a woman she knew vaguely from the gym she used to

attend before the accident. Before everything changed.

"Jennifer, hi." Bella manufactured a smile.

"I haven't seen you in forever! How are you? How's that gorgeous husband of yours?" Jennifer's

eyes were bright with the kind of curiosity that edged toward gossip.

"He's... we're managing." Bella kept her voice neutral.

"I heard about the accident. So terrible. But I saw on F******k that his friends moved in to

help? That's so sweet." Jennifer leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "That one

guy, the really built one? I saw him at the farmer's market last week. Lord have mercy."

Bella's smile felt frozen on her face. "Devon. He's Marcus's physical therapist."

"Lucky Marcus." Jennifer winked. "Having that kind of motivation every day. If I had someone

who looked like that pushing me to work out, I'd actually show up to the gym."

Something sharp twisted in Bella's gut. Jealousy? Anger? She couldn't name it.

"I should go," Bella said abruptly. "Lots to do."

"Of course! We should grab coffee sometime, catch up properly!" Jennifer was already pulling

out her phone. "What's your number?"

Bella rattled off her number just to escape, knowing she'd never follow through. She abandoned

the lettuce debate and headed for checkout, suddenly desperate to leave.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she loaded groceries onto the conveyor belt.

Liam: Emergency. Need your help ASAP.

Bella's stomach dropped. *What's wrong?*

Liam: I attempted to make pasta. The kitchen looks like a crime scene. Send help or cleaning

supplies. Maybe both.

The tension in her shoulders released. She almost laughed.

On my way. Don't touch anything else.

Liam: Too late. I touched the stove. Is it supposed to smoke like that?

This time she did laugh, and the cashier looked at her strangely. Bella didn't care. For the first

time all day, she felt something other than guilt and confusion.

She felt needed.