Page 24 of Windlass

“Your arms say you’re not.” Angie poked Stevie’s bicep to prove her point. Her skin was clear and golden with the first dusting of summer’s sun, and her muscles shifted beneath as she moved. There was a quality to Stevie’s skin that always made Angie hungry. She wanted to bite it and gently run her teeth along the hidden ridges of Stevie’s ribs, and then slowly sink her teeth into the meat of Stevie’s shoulder.

“My arms say they have a perfectly natural biological defense against the cold, thank you very much. And it isn’t cold, just windy.”

The wind coming off the ocean even in early July was, in fact, quite cold, and Angie felt grateful she’d grabbed a light pullover. A few summer people and locals were also on the beach. She could tell the summer people apart by the swimsuits, while the locals were less determined to make the most of the lengthening days.

“You could always squeeze in between the lovebirds.” Angie tucked her arm through Stevie’s and batted her eyelashes, simpering, “Oh, Morgan, I can’t bear to be more than an inch apart from you for more than ten seconds.”

Stevie snorted with laughter. “Except it’s the other way around.”

“True.”

Angie left her arm linked through Stevie’s. Despite what Stevie might say, she was clearly chilly, and providing body heat was the least Angie could do. Friends linked arms. It was normal. Falling asleep on a friend’s shoulder, like she’d done a thousand other times, was normal. Holding hands . . . was not. That had been a mistake, even if it had felt like the most natural thing in the world, and she did not want to think about all the reasons why. She opened the trunk in her mind where she shoved such things, crammed in the thought, and slammed the lid shut. She’d held Stevie’s hand. So what?

“I’m happy for them,” Angie continued, adjusting her stride to match Stevie’s. “Don’t get me wrong, but—”

“It’s weird.” Stevie’s ponytail whipped into the back of Angie’s neck, raising goosebumps of her own.

“It is.”

They walked in silence, listening to the gulls and the chatter of the waves on the beach and the occasional bark of a dog.

“How are you doing?” Stevie didn’t look at her as she asked the question.

Angie didn’t answer right away. She knew what Stevie was asking, and knew she shouldn’t blow her off, no matter how tempting. What exactly could she say, though, that left them both safe from the venom in her veins?

“Okay, I think.” There. Only mildly evasive, and conveyed any number of things. Shewasokay. Better than okay, some days, as long as she was with Stevie. The rest of the time could fuck right off and leave her alone. “Might need you to help me put a tarp on the roof later.”

“Come again?”

“That’s what she said,” Angie responded.

“Well done. Seriously, though? No roofers available?”

“Not for a while,” she lied. She hadn’t called any. No point in inquiring about a service she couldn’t afford.

“I mean, is that safe?”

“No.”

“Are you going to do it anyway if I say no?” Stevie asked, frowning.

“Yes.”

“Angie—”

“You don’t have to—”

“Of course I’ll help. Don’t you dare do it by yourself.” Stevie stopped walking to glare at Angie, who warmed beneath the clear concern. “Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Stevie took a deep breath, muttering, “God, you’re gonna kill me one day.”

“You’ll like it.”

Stevie harrumphed. “And Lana? How are you . . . about that?”

The emotions Stevie was clearly trying to suppress thickened her voice. Her face remained impassive, so obviously a mask Angie wanted to lift it from her face and toss it into the waves. She deserved to see Stevie’s face twisted with jealousy and hurt. She deserved to suffer from her own actions because nothing hurt her quite so deeply as the glimpses of hurt she’d seen beneath Stevie’s shining persona.

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