Page 41 of Windlass

“Well, we’re pretty lovable.” Stevie didn’t know where Ivy was going with this. “Also, only Lil makes me eat my vegetables so she probably worried I’d die of scurvy.”

“I’ve seen you eat plenty of vegetables on your own. Broccoli sprinkled with cheese is still a vegetable.” Ivy’s tone regained its serious note as she continued. “I know a little bit about what it’s like not being able to say the thing you want to say, and I know it’s even harder when there are no distractions.”

Stevie had no answer. She knew, of course, what Ivy meant.WhoIvy meant. Her throat worked as she tried unsuccessfully to come up with a response.

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Ivy added.

“Thank god.” Stevie’s relieved laugh had an edge of mania.

“But if you ever want to, just remember that I haven’t known you since high school nor, and I say this with all the love in my heart for Lil, do I feel the need to mother anyone. My own mother is quite enough to deal with.”

Definitely digs at Morgan and Lilian. What, exactly, had Ivy heard them saying about Stevie and Angie that had led her to voice this sentiment? Her stomach tensed. The idea of her friends talking about what was good for her—or not good for her—might have been heartwarming, but instead it made her tick with a slow anger she successfully kept from her voice when she said, “Thank you, Ivy. I appreciate that.”

Ivy urged Freddie into a trot. Stevie nearly slid off Olive in relief. “And I won’t embarrass you any more today, I promise. I need you to help me plan—”

“—a weekend worthy of a proposal,” Stevie finished, bowing in the saddle with an exaggerated flourish. “And I have some ideas.”

Right now, though, none of those ideas were about wedding proposals, and more than a few involved interrogating Morgan Donovan with medieval torture techniques.

If she confronted her, however, she’d run the risk of revealing the changes taking place in her relationship with Angie, and she wasn’t ready to hear Morgan’s opinions. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Morgan loved them both, but her protectiveness wasn’t what Stevie needed.

Jaq arrived early the next morning, surprising Stevie by waiting in the barn.

“Hey,” said Stevie, “you’re just in time to help me feed.”

“Ivy said I should come earlier to help you out.”

“Only if you want.” Stevie made a mental note to dress like an adult for feedings, instead of showing up in sweatpants, braless, and often in flip-flops, which were definitely not barn-safe. Setting a good example was a lot of work.

Jaq’s expression wavered from quiet enthusiasm to uncertainty. Stevie’s response had not, apparently, been what she’d been hoping for. Stevie backpedaled.

“It would be a huge help, and Olive loves attention in the morning, but if it’s too early for you—”

“It’s not.”

“Right. Okay, then. Olive gets a scoop of this feed mixture, which I make myself . . .”

Jaq listened raptly, pausing occasionally to make a note on her phone, and took the buckets from Stevie to deliver to the horses. Stevie dumped the water buckets, which both horses seemed to enjoy getting absolutely filthy overnight, and refilled them before checking on the pasture trough. She found Jaq in Olive’s stall upon her return, brushing her coat until it gleamed. Olive munched contentedly, one hoof cocked in her most relaxed posture. The horse obviously liked the kid.

“You ever shot a bow and arrow?”

Jaq looked up. “In gym class, and my dad and cousins hunt, but they don’t take me with them.”

“Why not?”

“The patriarchy.”

Stevie laughed. “Fuck that. I’ll teach you. I have targets set up around the orchard. Extra points if you can hit an apple by the fall.”

“I’ll ask Ivy to show me some balance exercises.”

“She’d know them. How are lessons going?” Stevie had yet to be present for one as when Ivy had days off, Morgan usually worked—and therefore so did Stevie.

“Freddie’s fun. And Ivy’s a good teacher.”

“You like her, then?”

Jaq blushed. “She’s nice.”

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