Page 115 of Relentless

“Let’s just get on with this,” she replied, shoring up her protective walls. Oakleigh had yearned for affirmation for so long that any attempt now felt inconsequential.

Riding around the property’s border, Oakleigh scanned the long stretch of fenceline. She brought her horse to a halt and pulled the travel mug from her saddle bag. Yanking her glove off with her teeth, she freed her fingers to pop open the lid. She took a long drink of the hot coffee, enjoying the quiet beauty of the sun setting behind the snow-dusted mountains. Pressing the top closed, she slipped the steel mug back into her bag.

“What’s this?” Harper chimed in, shattering the peaceful tenor of nature around them.

“What’s what?” Oakleigh replied, preparing to pull her glove back over her fingertips, which were stiffening in the plummeting temperatures.

“What’s this on your fingers?” Harper leaned over in the saddle and took her hand. Unfurling Oakleigh’s fingertips, she brushed over the old wounds.

Oakleigh yanked her hand back and stuffed it into her glove. She had already shown her those scars. Harper’s lack of recall revealed her typical uninterest in anything that didn’t revolve around her. What was more curious to Oakleigh was her willingness to offer even the slightest nurture, which she never did unless an audience was present. Entirely disregarding every skinned knee and scraped elbow, it was as though Harper lacked even the most basic maternal instincts.

“Well, it looks bad, Oakleigh,” Harper commented.

“There it is,” Oakleigh mumbled callously. “We wouldn’t want to lookbad.”The harshness of her tone made her wince, knowing she shouldn’t have reacted so harshly. Old habits were hard to break, especially when fueled by such a long history of hurt.

Clicking her tongue against her cheek, Oakleigh prompted her horse down the trail.

Harper’s horse caught up beside hers.

“You’re a smart girl,” Harper bit back. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Even in her seemingly humbled frame ofmind, it was clear that she wouldn’t accept disrespect, especially from Oakleigh. “So, how did you get those scars?”

“The ones on my hands or the emotional ones?” Oakleigh quipped.

Harper pursed her lips, offering a long, exasperated glance.

Although the scenery had changed, the battle was still the same.

“Fine,” Oakleigh reluctantly surrendered, still feeling the nag of self-preservation. “It happened right along here last spring,” she said, pointing down the fence line. “You were here, actually.”

Harper’s eyebrows raised. “I think I’d remember—“

Oakleigh gave her mother a knowing glance.

“Right.” Harper sucked her teeth.

“Paisley—” Oakleigh began, feeling her sister’s name catch in her throat, “got stuck down in the ravine, and the rope slipped,” she paused, the details still causing her stomach to tie in a knot. “If it hadn’t been for Mia — I suppose you’d have two less daughters to worry about.”

It wasn’t a kind way to say it, but she felt her temper rising. Harper’s cruelty had kept them apart, and now it felt incredibly unjust that she expected to hear all the gritty details of the night that irreconcilably fractured their relationship.

Harper gazed blankly down into the ravine below.

Oakleigh couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw a crack in Harper’s usual, stern expression that was hidden behind her borrowed aviator sunglasses.

Veering off down a fork in the trail, there was a weighty silence between them, marked only by the clomping of hooves and the chilly breeze rustling through the frozen pine needles.

Harper cleared her throat, splintering the fragile peace between them.

“I know a little about scars,” Harper began, stumbling over words. She pressed her lips together as if debating whether to say what was weighing on her mind.

“Your grandfather, well —” her voice faded. “Never mind.”

No matter how much Oakleigh wanted to understand, she knew there was no prying the words from her even if she tried.

Harper and Maeve were strangely alike in that way.

She searched for a light response with frail hopes of breaking the quiet tension.

Before she could utter a word, her horse snorted and side-stepped on the icy trail.

---