Page 91 of Windlass

“Yeah, that’s fine. Let me show you how to rub her leg afterward, though, and stretch her out.” She led Olive out of her stall and after administering a few scratches and kisses, dug her palms into Olive’s hips. Jaq tried it next, and Stevie corrected her position. The bracelets on Jaq’s arm moved with the motion.

“Kid—” Stevie snatched Jaq’s arm and was about to pull the bracelets aside when Jaq snatched it right back. They stared at each other, Jaq’s doe eyes wide and scared and also somehow defiant. Stevie resisted the urge to demand that the girl show Stevie her wrists.

Silence stretched like summer sunlight. The glaring, angry red lines Stevie had seen were unmistakable.

“Do you . . .” What the hell was she supposed to do about this?

“It’s nothing.”

“Jaq—”

“Everyone does it.”

Angie, sayingIt’s ordinary. It’s happened to almost everyone I know.

“Jaq, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Small kids weresomuch easier, she thought for the hundredth time. Teenagers were an entirely different animal. Yeah, cutting was common, but that didn’t make itrightorokay.

Jaq shrugged. Stevie didn’t throw up her hands and scream. It was a close thing, though.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be me. Do you have someone else you can talk to? Your sister?”

Another shrug.

“School counselor?”

A derisive snort, this time. “Mr. Packer is the worst.”

“Not Mr. Packer then. In fact, fuck Mr. Packer.”

That lured a small smile out of hiding. Stevie grasped at it desperately. What else would make the kid smile? What else could Stevie throw up as a defensive barrier around the people in her life the world insisted upon hurting?

When Angie hurt, she turned on herself. Stevie’s only successful tactic was distraction, but Angie was an adult. Jaq was a child. Was she obligated to call someone? Jaq’s sister? Or did she already know since she lived with Jaq?

Angie might know what to do, but there wasn’t time to text her. Jaq needed Stevie to do something now.

Stevie might not know how to deal with struggling teens, but she did know a thing or two about abrasions. “Did you clean them?”

“What?”

“We’re in a barn, and you have open wounds. Have you cleaned them?”

Jaq stared at her, then slowly shook her head. It probably wasn’t a great character trait to feel relieved about this, Stevie reflected, simply because it gave her something to do, but relief and training took over anyway.

“Pause on work. Let’s get them scrubbed and bandaged.”

“But—”

“It will take two seconds. Come on.” Stevie walked out of the barn toward the house, not looking back to make sure Jaq followed.Act normal, she told herself. Normality soothed animals. Maybe it worked on people, too. When she held open the door, Jaq’s small hand took the knob and shut it behind her.

“To the sink,” Stevie directed, grabbing some first aid supplies from the box of veterinary materials in the foyer. “Could you take off your bracelets, please?”

Jaq hesitated, eyes flitting toward the floor, then the door, but she did pull them off one by one. The poor kid’s cheeks flamed as she stared determinedly at the ground instead of up at Stevie.

“Soap and water,” said Stevie instead of hissing in sympathy. Cuts covered old bruises and older scars from previous cuts. The newer cuts had already undergone the initial healing process, and she set an emollient wound ointment on the counter. Sure, it was marketed for horses and livestock, but she used it on herself all the time. She couldn’t tell if any of the bruises came from an adult’s grip.

“Dry with this.” Stevie handed Jaq clean gauze when Jaq had scrubbed to Stevie’s satisfaction. “Then dab some of this on. It will help prevent too much scarring.”

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