Page 19 of Windlass

Who needed therapy when you had something to hit? Adjusting her shirt and redoing her hair, she prepared herself for her return to work. Her phone vibrated again. She checked it, both because she had to in case it was work-related, and because she was a masochist.

A photo of Morgan shoulder deep in a horse’s ass with Stevie’s caption,Should we warn Emilia what she’s into? popped up on the screen.

If Lana had a sixth sense for weakness, Stevie had a sixth sense for when Angie needed her.

Pretty sure she already knows, Angie typed back, a smile tugging at her lips.

Should we ass-k her?Stevie replied instantly.

AR: OMG. That was weak.

SW: Do you want me to . . . put a plug in it?

AR: Put a plug in your mouth, nerd.She continued to hold her phone instead of tucking it back into her pocket. Her lip hurt; she realized she was biting it, and stopped. It would be so easy to pretend nothing was wrong. Nothingwaswrong, really; she’d just had a moment. That didn’t mean she would call Lana later.

Except she was lying to herself, and she knew it. Before she could change her mind, she typed,I need a distraction ASAP.

Dancing bubbles replied. She waited.

SW: On it like a bonnet.

Air whooshed out of her lungs in relief. When had she started holding her breath? She wiped a few stray tears off her cheeks and with fingers wet with salt swiped Lana’s message left, deleting it from her phone without reading.

Stevie summarized Angie’s request for a distraction to Morgan, who responded with a considering, “Huh,” that seemed somehow suspect. She’d analyze that later. For now, what mattered was heeding Angie’s call for help. “Cards?” Stevie flopped onto the sofa.

“Alternatively, we could watch a movie,” Morgan suggested. She looked tired.

Stevie was tired too. They’d had a long day, which had ended badly, and she did not want to think about the colic case they’d had to euthanize because the owners had waited too long to call the vet. She hated days like these.

“Quick movie, then,” said Morgan. It was nice having her around again. Things felt normal. Easy. “I’ll stay till Emilia gets off.”

“That’s what she said,” said Stevie, and Angie gave her a high five.

“Tonight’s her late shift, you ass. You need better jokes.” Morgan grabbed the remote and began flipping through streaming services. Stevie didn’t care what they watched. She leaned back into the couch and pulled a blanket over her lap, disturbing Marvin, who lay at her feet. At least it wasn’t raining on the couch for the time being.

“I love that one.” Angie stopped Morgan’s scrolling.

“Of course, you do,” Morgan said affectionately, and she clickedplayon the zombie romantic comedy. Stevie gave it five minutes before Morgan fell asleep in her customary chair.

Angie settled back into the cushions and tucked her feet up under her. Stevie offered her half of the blanket. Angie pulled it over her lap without meeting Stevie’s eye, and inched closer until they sat like they used to before everyone moved out and everything changed, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. Friendly. Friends. She had to remember they were friends first, friends above all else, friends, because like some cats, Angie was liable to bolt at the first sign of entrapment.

James chose that moment to enter the room, sniff, flick his tail, and saunter on past after meeting Stevie’s eyes.

“James just glared at me,” she whispered to Angie.

“He’s jealous,” Angie said, yawning. “You took his spot.”

Stevie snorted. “He let me pet him yesterday in exchange for a piece of bread.”

“Why are you feeding my cat bread?” Angie laid her head on Stevie’s shoulder, nestling closer. Her hair tickled Stevie’s cheek.

“Because he’s a loaf.”

“Mmm.”

Stevie glanced around the darkened living room. Morgan, predictably, was already asleep. Angie stirred slightly.

Please don’t move away.

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