Page 69 of Windlass

And if she was wrong?

Ivy, who had strolled to the fence, called out, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Angie and Stevie said at the same time. Ivy gave them a searching glance, clearly aware that was a lie, then retreated.

“What did Lana want?” Stevie asked quietly.

“She’s pissed I stopped talking to her.”

“Did you tell her why?”

“What do you mean?” Angie’s voice grew defensive.

“Like, did you tell her you were done with her, or did you just ghost her? Both work for me.”

And neither was the answer she would have preferred.

“Lana doesn’t like not getting her way,” said Angie, which was not an answer. “But I’m serious. Don’t start a fight about this. She isn’t worth it, and she could’ve really hurt you.”

“Hurtme? Why am I the one getting hurt in this scenario?”

“Because you’re a good person, and she fights dirty.” Angie took a steadying breath. “I didn’t expect her to show up. What else did she say to you?”

“Nothing important.”

“Stevie.”

“Seriously. Nothing important.” Just the second photo in as many days she’d seen of parts of Angie that Lana had never deserved to touch. “Are you okay?”

Angie placed her fingers on the inside of Stevie’s wrist, right above the crease of the pockets where she’d buried her hands to keep them from turning into fists. “I’m fine,” Stevie said. “I could take her.”

Angie laughed without humor. “Please don’t. This whole thing—I don’t ever want you getting hurt because of me.”

“Not my fault you’re worth it.”

“Stop it. It’s not—” Angie lowered her voice and stared at Stevie with an intensity that reminded her, horribly, of their fight about the roof. “I don’t need you to fight for me, or over me. It’s juvenile. Do you want jail time for assault? A criminal record? Or, better yet, broken teeth and a misaligned jaw?”

That last part, all things considered, would be a tragedy for Stevie’s new favorite extracurricular activity. She took in the shadows beneath Angie’s eyes and the slump to her shoulders and wished she’d hit Lana sooner or cut the brake line in her car because now she couldn’t do it without directly contradicting Angie’s wishes.

“I would, though. For you.”

“Seriously, stop.” Angie looked like she wanted to shake Stevie. “You’re better than her. I need you to act like it.”

Ouch. Well. When put like that . . . Stevie nodded, silenced but gratified.

“I have to get back to work. Stevie . . .”

She looked up from the gravel, trying not to feel hopeful, that stupid fucking picture seared in her memory.

“I’ll be done in an hour,” Angie continued, softening. “Dinner and a movie?”

Something Lana did not have nor, if Stevie had any influence at all, ever would again.

Angie shut the door to her office and would have leaned against it were it not already occupied by a cork board, leashes, and an out-of-season Halloween pumpkin basket that had once held candy and now held dog poop bags. She settled for standing and breathing.

Never, not once, had she wanted someone to win her battles for her. It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t romantic. It didn’t fix anything. People always offered to fight for you when what you needed was a time traveler, not an avenger.

Stevie had to stop putting herself at risk for Angie. First the roof, now Lana. No, not first the roof. First, and she knew it was melodramatic and maudlin of her to eventhinkit, Stevie had put her heart at risk.

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