Page 84 of Quiver

“She stopped taking them about six hours after we left the hospital,” Kylie called.

“Hey now,” Fletcher objected. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy?”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Ava, why don’t you tell me what you brought to share with Fletcher, who’s only taking a couple Advil before bed and first thing in the morning.”

Ava laughed, and began unloading her tote onto the kitchen counter. “I made a lasagna, a chicken casserole, a few helpings of beef stew, a meatloaf, some fresh bread, and an assortment of cookies.”

Kylie’s eyes went wide. “Are you real? I mean, what kind of modern woman even knows how to bake fresh bread?”

“That’s what I said the first time she made me biscuits.” Bex peeled back the tape holding Fletcher’s bandage in place. “Oh man, you look like a human Rorschach painting.”

Ava started putting casserole dishes into the fridge, but instead of helping, Kylie stood up on tiptoe to peek at Fletcher’s side, then regretted it. The wound itself was small and held closed by what looked like two sutures, but the skin around it swirled with purple, green, and yellow bruises. The sight of the skin she’d always found so perfectly tinted and toned made her stomach churn.

She’d never been a squeamish person. If she’d seen the same bruises on anyone else, she probably wouldn’t have felt much at all, but on Fletcher, the sight managed to be both gut-wrenching and rage-inducing. How could anything, even an inanimate object, have dared to mar such perfection?

Bex had no such issue, and lightly palpitated the bruised area starting from its furthest reaches and working in. “Any pain out here?”

“No,” Fletcher said evenly.

“And here?”

She shook her head.

“What about here?” She was only an inch from the puncture point now.

“It doesn’t hurt on the surface, only inside the muscle.”

How could that be? Kylie felt phantom pains even from a distance. Instinctively she moved her hand to her own side as if Bex had touched her body as much as Fletcher’s.

“You look good,” Bex finally said, clearly immune to the response she’d produced. “I’ll use a smaller dressing this time. It’s closing up nicely, but since I know you won’t stay out of the barn, I want to make sure we keep it clean.”

“Can I take a shower?”

Bex shook her head and pulled a few bandages out of her coat pocket. “It’s better not to soak the sutures. Let’s wait until your general practitioner clears you.”

Fletcher groaned. “I’m disgusting.”

“You don’t smell bad.” Bex gave her a little sniff as if making sure. “And you can rinse off with antibacterial wipes.”

“I’ve been doing that, but my hair’s oily and gross. I want to wash it, but it would wreck me to lean over the edge of a tub right now.”

“I can help.” Ava started forward as if she intended to make good on the offer immediately, but Kylie caught her arm.

“I can help her,” she said, then realized the comment came out sharper than intended and tried to rein in whatever emotion the idea of Ava washing Fletcher’s hair sparked in her. “I mean, we’ve still got work to do this afternoon. I’ll help her wash it this evening.”

“You’ve done so much.” Ava’s voice held only kindness. “I don’t mind helping Fletcher wash her hair while you do the barn chores.”

“I don’t mind doing it tonight. I’m staying here. I can handle her. I mean this.”

Ava searched her eyes as if trying to make sense of the shift in her tone. “Kylie, I thought we’d moved past this particular hurdle. I’m not any threat to—”

“I know.” She sighed. “And we have moved past that initial roadblock, but I’m, well, I’m working on another one.”

Ava nodded slowly but didn’t quite concede.

“I mean it, Ava.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “I’m trying.”

Ava shrugged, then cast a tight smile around the room. “I guess you two will figure things out when you need to.”