Page 56 of Relentless

Her footsteps clacked across the hardwood floor as she took a seat across the aisle from Maeve in the row of pews.

Harper shrugged. “Just the same old Oakleigh.”

“She’s not, Harp,” Maeve dared to boldly test her sister’s unpredictable temper. For her, defending Oakleigh was always worth the risk.

“Guess I just know her better than you do,” Harper’s voice projected, echoing off the flawless church acoustics.

Maeve had to decipher Oakleigh’s flurry of texts, but what she could gather was that Harper had been unkind to Crew. After being raised in a negligent household, Maeve had spent years walking alongside the young man, bolstering his self-esteem and doing whatever she could to help him find his identity. It was Oakleigh who had finally lit a spark in Crew that he had been missing all along.

“I know you’re unhappy,” Maeve spoke up, feeling Harper tense at the very suggestion. “But please don’t tear down my kid.”

“You’re delusional,” Harper taunted, crossing her arms to her chest. “You really think Oakleigh is yours, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t referring to Oakleigh,” she clarified. Although, if she could have been transparent, she would have said that Oakleigh felt just as much like her daughter as the other children she had raised.

“They’ve opened the airport, so why don’t you plan on heading out tomorrow,” Maeve suggested, ignoring Harper’s glare.

“Fine,” Harper declared, distractedly picking a piece of fuzz off her jacket. “Just throw me out.”

Maeve’s eyes lifted to the rough-hewn, raw beams on the ceiling, struggling to suppress her rising temper.

“Why is it always an argument, Harp,” Maeve sighed, letting the words tumble out before she could draw them back. “You always hated when Dad picked a fight—”

“I’m nothing like him, if that’s what you’re implying.” Harper cut her off, her blue eyes blazing with anger. “The audacity, really Maeve.”

“He was hard on you,” Maeve expressed. She had overstepped into their raw, painful history, and it was too late to back down. “He was too hard on you.”

“I’m thankful for the discipline,” Harper casually deflected. “It made me the person I am today.”

The lie was paper thin, and they both knew it.

In the rare moment, Harper was showing a glimmer of civility. Rather than expose the truth and erode her sister’s protective walls, Maeve opted instead to use the opportunity for an ounce of closure.

“Did he ever talk about me?” she ventured to ask. Even though a lifetime had passed, the vulnerability of it all felt nearly unbearable. “Did Mom ever—?”

Harper looked away, leaning back in the pew.

“They never said a word,” she responded quickly. “It was like you died.”

For a fleeting moment, Maeve heard the sentiment of the Harper she once knew.

“Did you expect them to?” Harper blustered, straightening her posture as though she had caught herself being much too generous. “You didn’t want to be a part of our family and you got your wish.”

Maeve ignored her snark, pressing for more. “When they passed away —”

“You don’t deserve to know,” Harper bit back. “I put in the work, I dealt with —everything,” she stumbled. “While you were off riding horses and frolicking with cowboys.”

Bitterness edged back into her voice.

“Now Oakleigh wants to be like you,” she spat. “Herfree-spiritedAunt Maeve.”

The silence between the two was loaded with decades of unspoken ammunition.

“I’ll have my things packed for the morning,” Harper announced. She stood to her feet, and headed for the door.

“Since you want me gone so badly.”

Maeve sighed, propping her head on her fingertips. Her intuition told her that Harper genuinely wanted to be thrown out, and she wasn’t about to fuel her sister’s overflowing tank of self-loathing.

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