Page 95 of Relentless

“She’s cooked,” Oakleigh concluded, her brow furrowing. “The whole viral video with the hot mic, well —” she exhaled. “It’s making the rounds again.”

Maeve set the phone back into Oakleigh’s gloved palm. “Have you contacted your dad?” she asked. It was a shot in the dark, knowing that Oakleigh had reached out several times over the past two years and had received no response.

“I texted him,” Oakleigh shrugged. “You know how it is.”

Maeve took a deep sip of frosty mountain air. She was unsure of exactly what they were walking into, but she was confident it was going to be a bumpy night. Giving Dallas’ handone more squeeze, she pushed her door open and stepped into the deep snow.

Dallas called out after her through the open passenger window. “Is there anything I can do?”

She leaned her elbows on the door, biting her lip as they exchanged a long glance. How she would have loved to have his strength by her side that evening, but this was her burden to bear.

“This is another one I’ll have to take on my own, Dal.”

His eyes filled with concern as he climbed out of the driver’s seat. He met her on the driveway and held her close, reminding her she wasn’t alone. He was there for the long haul, no matter what.

“Head on up to bed, and try to get some rest,” she whispered. Stepping out of his embrace, she turned to Oakleigh. “Let’s go.”

Maeve led the way up the porch steps, and into the house’s entryway. “I want you to stay out of it as best you can.” Sensing that Oakleigh’s emotions were already running high, all she needed was the young woman’s sharp tongue to throw fuel onto the fire.

Oakleigh went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee while Maeve knelt to place another log on the fire. She quietly stoked the embers, using her last peaceful moment to pray.

Dallas went up the stairs to bed, and everything in her wanted to follow. The thought of climbing in next to him, and leaving it all until the morning was an overwhelming temptation.

It’s time to stop stalling.

She felt Oakleigh’s eyes on her as she went to the staircase and trudged up each step. Going down the long hallway, she arrived at the guest bedroom where Harper was staying. She raised her fist and knocked loudly on the door.

“Harp?” Maeve replied. The punctuated silence drove her to keep talking, hoping that she would eventually garner a response. “I heard what happened — I’m checking in.”

Harper’s voice came muffled through the heavy wood door. “I’m sure you are.”

Maeve could already detect that Harper’s words ran together like cursive.

She cleared her throat, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Without waiting for an invitation, she turned the handle and cracked open the door to the darkened room. The light from the hall cast a beam, illuminating Harper on the floor with the empty flask beside her. She had an absent, glazed look, and her mascara stained her cheeks with chaotic black smears. Maeve’s letters were unceremoniously torn open from their envelopes and strewn around her.

Maeve folded her arms and leaned her shoulder on the doorframe.

“You’re drunk.”

“And what did you expect?” Harper slurred. “That you’d give me a cup of coffee and a hug — and just like that, I’d be a different person?”

She kicked her heel into the flask, sending it sliding across the smooth floor.

“You did, didn’t you.” She laughed callously. “You’re an idiot if you think people change.” Her volume increased as her lip curled up in disgust. “But that’s who you’ve always been — a hopeful idiot.”

Maeve searched for any rationality behind her sister’s dull gaze and found none. “You’re not yourself,” she replied, bringing the tone down with futile hopes that Harper would follow suit. “Why don’t you get some sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

Harper clambered to her feet. “I think we’re going to talk about this now,” she snapped, her dull eyes flashing with anger.

“Not when you’re like this,” Maeve sternly replied, turning away down the hall.

Her firmly established boundary seemed to fuel Harper’s rage.

“Don’t you ever turn your back to me!” Harper lashed out as she lunged for Maeve’s shoulder.

In another chapter of life, had anyone dared to lay a hand on Maeve in that way, she would have turned and swung a fist. Fortunately for Harper, she had learned to control her quick temper.

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