Page 11 of Game On

“I have no idea, but obviously there is no need for you to consider coming back,” Keely warned her, exercising the older sister tone. Her bossiness had doubled when their mom left them, giving Keely the idea that she needed to hop in the mother role. “I want you to stay where you’re thriving.”

This was thriving? Alexis looked around at her little studio apartment that was a testament to the higher cost of living in Houston. But what bugged her more was the crisp way her older sister issued dictates about Alexis’s life even though she had worked her butt off to finish two years of college while still in high school, then complete the rest of a four-year degree in record time before going on to her graduate program.

She’d studied and worked every spare second for years—and therein was her own part of the family dysfunction. The worker bee determined to make good and make everyone proud. But what about whatshewanted?

The question deserved an answer.Shedeserved happiness, damn it.

Odds were good that Alexis would never receive an invitation to work with the camp in Last Stand even if it all came together. But if she did? The Harper household could surely benefit from some shaking up.

*

Late the nextmorning, Keely braced herself for the conversation with her father, armed with the notes she’d taken at the county appraiser’s office as she heard her dad’s footstep on the stairs.

Not that she needed to consult the notepad where she’d woodenly scribbled the facts. James Harper had sold the land eight months ago—shortly before his doctor had convinced him to quit drinking. Why the land deal hadn’t been in the local paper—or if it had, why no one in town had mentioned it to her—remained a mystery. But the facts were real enough.

Now, she would confront her dad, because she’d learned from the family support meetings she’d attended that enabling this behavior by looking the other way only served to poison their relationship more.

“Morning,” he muttered as he reached the bottom step. His grip on the banister tightened while he pivoted toward the kitchen. His skin had a perpetual grayish color these days and this morning he looked sweaty, his thinning hair matted to his head. “The pain in my side stabbed me from midnight to dawn.”

Deep breath.Keely laid a hand on the butcher-block countertop near the sink, watching him move cautiously toward the kitchen table where she’d left a place setting. He reached for the basket of lemon blueberry muffins she’d left out.

“You should talk to your doctor about the medicines you’re taking. Maybe she can increase the dosage.” She offered the advice as a knee-jerk reaction. Then, redoubling her focus, she gripped a printout of the property map she’d received that morning. “But first, I’d like you to tell me why you’re selling off family land that you know I’m actively farming.”

He swore beneath his breath. And then twice more—loudly. “I’m in pain, Keely. And that’s all you’ve got to say to me this morning?” He pounded the table with his fist as he took a seat. “Haven’t you got enough damned acres for flowers without this piece?”

Anger rushed through her. “No, Dad. I don’t have nearly enough land to develop the kind of operation I want. We need the income those acres generate.”

“WellIneeded the income from the sale.” He lifted the water pitcher she’d left out and filled his glass, his hand shaking, but not enough to spill anything on the red-and-white gingham mat. “And unlike you, I don’t have a job. The land was mine to sell anyway.”

There was so much to be livid about in that rebuttal, she didn’t know where to begin. Pacing away from him to try and collect her thoughts, she reminded herself not to get drawn into his twisted thinking. To draw boundaries, and be ready to enforce them.

“I have paid the taxes on it for years and I can prove it,” she reminded him. She knew the tax collector on a first-name basis thanks to the years she’d really struggled to come up with the cash. “Furthermore, I’ve contacted an attorney about applying for guardianship so that you can’t sell any more.”

Her father’s doctor had proposed as much long ago, but at the time, Keely had been deceiving herself that her dad would never do something like this to her.

“You’d throw your money away on a lawyer over a few piddly acres? Keely girl, you’ll never win a case like that.” He set the water glass down with a thud, sloshing more over the side. “My doctor can testify I’ve been sober for six months.”

“It was your doctor who encouraged me to do this.” She’d had the paperwork in her drawer from a hospital social worker from an ER visit three years ago. She knew she already fulfilled the duties of a guardian for her father, and she had years of banking statements to prove it. Still, the thought of going through those legal channels to make her father respect her rights made her ill. As did being at odds with him who, in spite of everything, she loved. “I never thought it would come to this, Dad. But after all the work I’ve poured into the business, I’m entitled to some financial security.”

If nothing else, she would at least win a limited power of attorney over the land rights and his accounts.

His face fell, some of the fight seeming to slide out of his shoulders. “Life doesn’t always give us what we’re entitled to. I know that better than most.”

He stood up from the table without even touching his breakfast. As he walked out of the kitchen, she realized she’d never asked him about the money from the sale. Where it had gone, or if there was any left.

Even so, she still felt rattled from the conversation. She still clutched the notes she’d made at the county appraiser’s office, the paper mangled in her grip. She tossed the paper in the wastebasket before picking up the breakfast dishes, her hands still a little shaky from the stress of finally acknowledging that her relationship with her dad had failed to the point where she needed to take legal action.

It hurt. But there was relief threaded through the ache in her chest, too. Because he wasn’t going to take advantage of her again. And no one was taking her farm away. Nate had tried to tell her she couldn’t do this without some help, but she was managing just fine on her own.

Peering out the back window onto the wildflower field closest to the house, she allowed herself a moment to admire the carpet of colors swaying lightly in the breeze. Next, she’d have to talk to Everett and see if she could work out a deal to keep her sunflowers for a couple more weeks and maybe offer him some other acres in exchange. Just for this season.

There was no reason she needed to see Nate at all.

And if he happened to be on her mind a lot this morning, maybe it was just because a small part of her wanted to tell him what she’d done. That she’d taken steps to secure her own future. Those wildflowers turning their blooms to the Texas sun were her dream, after all.

A dream she’d carved out of a dried-up ranch and plenty of unhappy memories. In spite of everything, it was beautiful.

Chapter Four

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