Page 9 of Wicked Devotions

I bought her horse, Annie, at auction. She’s been nothing but a nuisance since the moment I took possession, but I’m waiting for the right moment to give her back. The stable near our university is expensive, and apparently the mare has quite an attitude with some of the workers. But it’s bullshit that Harper had to give everything of value up to pay her crooked father’s legal fees and fines. The least I could do is make sure she doesn’t lose the horse.

“Do you think they’re actually together? Harper and Banks?” Cyrus asks.

“Why would they lie?”

“I don’t know. Something about them doesn’t seem right.”

“I think they love each other,” Emerson says. “You can see it when they’re together. Just because they’re not all over each other doesn’t mean they aren’t in love.”

Cy and Emerson go back and forth a few more times, but I drown their conversation out withthoughts of Harper. I want her to come back out here with us, but I know she won’t. She’s probably back upstairs in her room, finding comfort in the four walls around her.

We find ourselves in the kitchen after spending all afternoon out at the pool. Jared made several dishes for us while Dad and Annabelle are away, each labeled with reheating instructions. I pull out a stir-fry and rice. After I get it started in the microwave, I tell the guys I’m going to go see if Harper wants some.

I knock quietly, and when she doesn’t answer, I push open the door. She’s stretched out on the bed, sleeping as the sun slants across her tan legs. Her plush pink lips are slightly parted, and the strands of hair that have fallen over her face flutter with each breath.

I hook my finger under the piece of hair and lightly run it between my fingers. It’s so silky, just like the ribbon I stole from her years ago. Now that I’ve moved the locks impeding my view, I can take in her face with her cheeks rosy from the sun and light dusting of freckles across her cheeks.

She’s perfect.

Behind her closed eyelids her eyes begin tomove, so I rest my palm on her shoulder, being sure to keep my hands in one of the areas I know are safe to touch her. She’ll become used to the feel of my hands soon but not today.

“Harper,” I say quietly. “I’m warming up dinner. Come eat.”

“What?” She blinks as she wakes until the swirling golds and greens of her hazel eyes meet mine. “Dinner?”

“Yeah. You need to eat.” I’m not giving her an option to decline.

“Okay,” she says after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

I leave her room and head back downstairs just as Emerson and Cy are pulling out plates and the food from the microwave. I grab forks and sit down at my normal spot. Sharing meals with these two guys feels more normal than nearly anything else in my life.

“Is she coming down?” Cy asks, glancing at the staircase.

“Yeah, she was asleep.”

Not even a minute later, her light footsteps on the creaking wood of the steps draw all our attention. She pauses when we all look up at her. For asecond, I think she’s about to turn around and go back up, but then she keeps going.

“I didn’t realize you guys were still here. I’ll just get myself a plate and get out of your hair.”

“No, stay.” Emerson stands and pulls out a chair, the only southern gentleman in our trio. “We do want to get to know you.”

“I already got you a plate.” I point to the empty place setting waiting for her.

Good manners win out over her unease, and she walks over and sits, quietly thanking us. “So, what exactly do you want to know?”

“Anything you feel like sharing. Hobbies. What you’re planning on majoring in. Stuff like that.”

“My only true hobby was dressage, but when everything with my father happened, I had to stop. I don’t really know what I want to do with my life now, so I’ll probably stay undeclared for the first year of college.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Cy says around a bite. “I was undeclared for the first two years of college, too.”

“What are you majoring in now?” She glances up at him, her eyes skimming over the exposed tattoos on his forearms.

“Art history.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“Cy is actually a really talented artist in his own right,” Emerson says proudly, causing Cy to scowl. His family doesn’t approve of his talent, they see it as a waste of time. It’s an unspoken agreement between Emerson and I that we will always give him the support they withhold.

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