Page 37 of Windlass

“I’m going to do it anyway. You know that, right? If not right now, I’ll get Morgan to help later.”

“We’ll just do the tarp in the attic like you said.”

“You gonna leave that lip on your face or am I going to have to call one of our doctors to stitch it back on?” Stevie dared to touch Angie’s lower lip with one finger, speaking gently.

A smile cracked the vise of her face. Angie tested it with her tongue, and winced. “I didn’t realize I was biting it.”

“Yeah, well, you can thank my oral fixation for saving its life.”

Angie leaned forward, collapsing on Stevie like she’d done a thousand times before. Stevie bore her dead weight, laughing under her breath, and stroked her rumpled hair. Angie’s head was turned away from her on her shoulder, her arms hanging at her sides. Stevie picked up each arm and placed it around her waist.

The fierceness of the embrace that followed would have knocked Stevie over if she hadn’t been prepared for it. Everyone melted down differently. This was Angie’s way—well, one of them. It had alarmed her the first few times she experienced it, but by now she’d figured out how to prop Angie back up.

“Do you need more coffee?” Stevie whispered into her hair.

The messy bun bobbed an affirmative.

“Then let’s go do that. Sun’s out today anyway.”

One of the downsides of working with dogs was that it was impossible to hear anything going on outside the building over the cacophony of their excited barks. Angie wore noise-canceling headphones in her office when she really needed to focus, but mostly the sound didn’t bother her.

Today, though, it had concealed the tell-tale whir of a power drill. She glared up at her roof. The blue tarp stared back at her, impassive in the setting sun.

“Stevie,” she shouted as she flung open the door.

“Yeah,” Stevie called from the living room.

Angie marched over and stopped in front of Stevie, who lay on the couch with Marvin. Sensing the mood, Marvin slunk away.

“Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?” Stevie asked.

Angie had thought her biggest worry with Stevie today would be preventing herself from jumping her. Now she was considering jumping her in another way, maybe with a shank.

“Did you go on the roof?”

Stevie sat up, face reddening.

“Don’t answer that. You did.”

“Morgan—”

“Was what, going to catch you if you fell? Both of you need your arms and legs to do your jobs! What is wrong with you?!”

“You were going to go up there,” Stevie pointed out.

“I changed my mind when I realized howdumb it was.” Her voice rose on the last few words. She swallowed. “I asked you not to.”

“And I told you I was going to anyway.” Stevie didn’t back down.

Angie took several deep breaths. They did nothing to settle the geyser of fury going off in her chest.

“If something happened to you—” Her voice broke again. Shaking her head in irritation, she settled for glaring.

“You’d miss me?” Mischief glimmered in Stevie’s eyes.

“This is not a joke.”

“You would, though.”

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