Page 63 of Relentless

“Because it wasn’t my story to tell.”

Harper’s teeth clenched.

“You’re right about that.” She paced a few steps around the kitchen, picking up a mug and bringing it down hard on the countertop. “And what are these letters Oakleigh’s going on about?”

Maeve took in a long breath.

“They’re in the bottom drawer of my nightstand,” Maeve replied. “They’re addressed to you and Mom — you’re free to read them if you’d like.”

Harper intended on making a dramatic exit, but pushing past Maeve in the doorway wasn’t as easy as she had expected. “I cannot catch a break,” she mumbled, pivoting instead to squeeze past her remarkably strong sister.

“Harper,” Maeve said, looking at the ground at her feet as she passed by. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“You know?” Harper sucked her teeth, hating even more that she was allowing herself to be vulnerable. “It’s always been Maeve, Maeve,Maeve.My whole life, it’s beenyou,”Harper spat. “What aboutme.”

“For what it’s worth,” Maeve replied quietly, “not a single day has passed that I haven’t prayed —”

“And a lot of good your prayers did me,” Harper bit back, cutting her words short. “Thanks fornothing.”

Her bitterness blinded her as she stormed up the stairs. She noticed Oakleigh and Bethany pause their conversation in the hallway as she passed.

“Talk about me all you want, girls,” she muttered.

None of it mattered.

Harper burst through her bedroom door and slammed it closed behind her. Leaning her head back on the door, Maeve’s words continued to echo through her mind.

Chapter 19

Retribution

Harper

The party raged through the halls of Tommy’s house, but in the secluded back bedroom with Chet, Harper couldn’t care less what was happening outside their door. She slid out of bed and retrieved her jean shorts from where they had been tossed haphazardly onto the floor. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she dragged them on, buttoning them closed around her waist. She pulled on her tank top, snapped the rubberband off her wrist with her teeth, and tied her hair into a tight ponytail.

Chet was peacefully sleeping with his arm propped behind his head. Giving one last long glance at his tan, fit body, she was glad he had been her firstmistake.

Cracking open the bedroom door, the scent of stale beer and the sour smell of vomit hit her nostrils. She slammed it shut, forcing her rebellious stomach back into submission.

Chet’s eyes cracked open at the sound. “You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her words still slurring together.

“Come back to bed,” Chet insisted, reaching forward. Grabbing her firmly around the waist, his fingers unwittingly pressed into the painful welts on her lower back.

Harper gasped at the flash of pain that sent tears to her eyes. She threw her hand over her mouth in a feeble attempt to suppress her cry.

It was too late.

Chet’s eyes widened as he yanked up the back of her tank top. “What’s this?” he exclaimed. “It looks bad.”

Harper jammed her shirt back down, stubbornly concealing her injuries. “It’s nothing — an accident,” she fished for any excuse to satisfy his curiosity. “Just shut up about it.”

Using the wall to steady herself, she pulled on her flip-flops.

“Whatever, Harper,” he said, falling back onto his pillow. The satisfaction of his conquest that evening kept him from worrying about little else.

She knew he was going to telleveryone.

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