Page 97 of Relentless

Maeve pressed her lips together, taking a deep breath as she felt Oakleigh’s eyes on her, gauging her reaction.

“No, Maeve, tell me,” Harper needled, knowing how to push every button. “Or better yet, why don’t you give me alongSunday school lesson about how I should talk to my own daughter.”

Harper tilted her head, pausing as she twisted her razor-sharp dagger. “Just because you couldn’t have kids of your own doesn’t mean you can have mine.”

“You’re just like —” Maeve gulped down the last words, knowing it was a step too far.

“Say it,” Harper spat. It was obvious she was desperate to top off her tank of self-loathing.

Maeve turned away, gazing into the fireplace as she struggled to regain her composure. “You’d rather bury yourself than look in the mirror, Harper,” she breathed.

Harper clenched her teeth, pulling at the string of pearls around her neck.

“I said,” she hissed. “Say it, Maeve.”

Maeve met her eyes with a look loaded with history only Harper would understand. “You’re just likehim.”

Rage burned in Harper’s expression as she gripped her necklace and yanked. The smooth pearls clattered across the floor, scattering in every direction. Turning on her heels, she stumbled through the entryway, slamming the door so hard that it shook the walls.

There was an uneasy silence left in Harper’s destructive wake.

Crew dared to speak up first.

“She’s gonna freeze out there.”

“And so what if she does,” Oakleigh mumbled callously, crossing her arms as though it were strong armor. “She’s a miserable drunk.”

Maeve turned again to the fireplace, steadying her palm on the mantle. “Let her sleep it off in the barn.”

“If she makes it to the barn,” Crew observed with a tinge of concern.

Maeve watched the flames dance across the crackling wood as she drew her fingers down her chin. Even though every fiber of her being resisted, she felt pressed to do the right thing.

“Dang it, Harper,” she whispered, slamming her fist on the mantle. Taking a moment to breathe, she said a quick prayer,asking the Lord for patience and compassion despite Harper’s cruelty.

When she had regained control of her heated emotions, she quietly passed Oakleigh and Crew. She felt their eyes on her as she went through the entryway, and pulled her jacket off the hook. She put her arms through the warm coat and zipped up the front. Pausing only to grab a second jacket, she tucked it under her arm and opened the front door.

She stepped into the blustery winter night.

It was cold, and visibility was low as she trudged through the snow. By the time she reached the barn, the fringe of her pants was coated with ice. Noticing the barn door ajar, Maeve said a quick prayer of thankfulness that Harper hadn’t stumbled into the pasture where she would undoubtedly freeze to death.

She closed the door behind her, preserving whatever heat was left in the dimly lit barn. The animals made scuffling sounds at her presence while she stood on her toes, and peered into each stall.

Harper was nowhere to be found.

She finally arrived at the warmest corner where the baby goats were being housed. Maeve sighed, catching a glimpse of the one she was searching for.

Harper was curled into a ball in the filthy hay, not even remotely dressed warm enough in her tank top and yoga pants. Her knees were pulled tightly to her chest, and she was quaking from the cold. Maeve opened the gate, carefully stepping overthe soundly sleeping baby goats. Retrieving the jacket from under her arm, she draped it over her sister’s shivering body.

It would have served her right to be left alone in the dank, smelly barn all night to fend for herself.

Maeve pressed out a long exhale.

Putting her back against the barn wall, she slid into the hay beside her sister. Before she had even had a chance to settle in, Harper hoisted herself on one elbow and plopped her head down on Maeve’s lap.

Her brow furrowed at the tender action, which seemed unusual after their heated altercation. Reminding herself that Harper was intoxicated, she got as comfortable as she could on the hard, dusty barn floor.

Maeve gently swept her blond ponytail out of the filthy hay. It brought back a flood of memories of that night in the hallway, when she couldn’t do anything to soothe Harper’s battered, bruised body. Even though the wounds were a different shade after all the years between them, Maeve still found herself powerless to quell her sister’s agony.

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