Page 77 of Relentless

Nabbing the flask off her bed, she hid it away in her nightstand drawer. Harper dug her snow clothes from a pile on the floor, and tugged the baggy pants over her legs. Pulling on the oversized jacket, she zipped up the front.

Feeling satisfied with her efforts, she lifted the mug again to her lips and took another long drink. It was still steaming hot, which she knew would be appreciated when she stepped into the knee-deep snow that had collected on the driveway.

Her snow pants made a hideous shuffling sound as she made her way down the long hallway. Harper was convinced she would never get used to donning the scratchy, water-resistant material.

Approaching the top of the stairs, she was met by the pretty young woman with thegirl next doorfeatures, who was balancing a tray with two plates, each with a sandwich and a small pile of chips.

“Bethany, was it?” Harper inquired.

Her eyes widened.

“Oh, um,” Bethany stammered. “Yes, Mrs. Davenport.”

“You can call me Harper,” she replied, feeling suddenly generous due tofinallybeing recognized.

“My mom used to watch you on TV,” Bethany said, blinking nervously as though searching for a way to squeeze past the woman blocking her path. “We have a whole bookshelf full of your books.”

“Thank you,” Harper crooned. “It’s always nice to meet one of our faithful followers.”

“It’s just so weird that Maeve never mentioned she had a famous sister,” Bethany remarked. “Well, I suppose until Oakleigh showed up.”

Harper’s teeth clenched, yet she was mindful to turn her frustration into a toothy white smile. It was a skill she had honed over the years.

“It was so nice to catch up with you, Bethany.”

The young woman seemed sweet, but at the mention of Maeve, she felt her excellent mood turning sour.

She went past Bethany and descended the stairs. Rounding the corner into the entryway, she located her snow boots on the rack near the door. She was thankful they were now clean of the mud and muck from the long trek across the pasture. Putting her palm on the wall to steady herself, she pulled the boots over her socked feet.

She grabbed her coffee, and took another long drink. The ambiance of the crackling fireplace made her want to relax on the sofa with a glass of wine.

“How I’d kill for a drink,” she mumbled, her thoughts drifting to the flask hidden in her nightstand drawer.

It doesn’t control me.

Forcing the temptation from her mind, she pulled the heavy front door open and felt the sharp, icy air rush in. It stole her breath away and chilled her lungs.

Harper headed out to the porch, and immediately regretted the loss of her sunglasses as she squinted from the blinding white snow. She spotted Oakleigh heading to the barn with a large bundle of rope over her shoulder.

Being careful down the slick, icy steps, she stepped into powdery snow. Sinking up to her knees, she felt the cold cut through her clothing.

Harper shuffled across the driveway until she reached Oakleigh’s side.

“Hey, Oaks,” she chimed, intentionally using her daughter’s childhood nickname. It almost felt too informal for the state of their battered, threadbare relationship.

Oakleigh didn’t even attempt to disguise the discomfort in her expression. “What are you doing out here?”

“I just wanted to thank you for the coffee,” Harper hesitated. It was true, and yet even the slightest gratitude felt agonizingly vulnerable. “Mind if I join you?”

“Maeve asked me to practice roping after yesterday,” she shrugged. “It’s really not going to be that interesting.”

Harper knew that her daughter was angling to be left alone, but something made her grasp for just a few more moments.

“That sounds interesting to me,” she responded. Turning her mug, she pointed at the note Oakleigh had left her that morning.

Oakleigh sighed.

“I just don’t want any arguments.”

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