Page 92 of The Devil's Trials

“I still can’t believe you got a dog. You never let me and Danielle have pets growing up. What does he do while you’re at headquarters all day?”

“He comes with me,” she says with a faint grin. “He has a bed beside my desk.”

I choke on a laugh. “I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting that.”

Mom joins my laughter, then makes a soft sound of contentment.

“What?”

Her gaze meets mine. “It’s nice to see you, that’s all. I miss my daughter.” The emotion in her tone brings tears to my eyes. My relationship with my mom has been less than ideal since Danielle died and I left the organization, but maybe with my return to it, we can repair the rift between us. This is at least a good start.

Pressure blooms in my chest, and I stumble over my response. “Oh, um…I miss you too. Things have been a little hectic since I left, but I’m sorry I haven’t made more of an effort to keep you in the loop with everything. I’ll do better.”

She lifts her hand to my cheek, smiling softly. “I understand. Maybe you’ll come home for Christmas this year?”

I can barely think a day ahead, much less a month and a half, but I nod anyway. “That sounds good.”

When Harper picks me up, she comes bearing a bottle of wine, a roll of cookie dough, and tacos from my favorite restaurant downtown.

“I am absolutely in love with you,” I tell her as I pull the passenger side door shut, leaning over the center console to smack a loud kiss against her cheek.

She laughs as she pulls out of my mom’s driveway, turning up the music a bit, though not too loud we can’t talk. “You best keep me out of that love triangle of yours.” Her tone is light and teasing, but I can’t help my responding cringe. “Sorry,” she singsongs. “I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s not a love triangle,” I insist as we drive toward the interstate. We could drive through the city, but even after the commuter rush, this way is easier.

“Then what would you call it?”

“A series of poor decisions?” I offer, dragging a hand down my face. “I’m still figuring it out.”

“Hmm, that sounds like code for ‘I’m not letting myself think about it so I don’t have to deal with it.’?”

“Why do you have to call me out like this?”

“Trauma bonding.” She shoots me a grin. “Because you can bet your ass I’ve been doing the same thing since you left for NYC.”

I stretch my legs out and fold my arms over my chest, exhaling heavily. “So we both have something we don’t want to talk about.”

Harper opens her mouth to respond, but the sound of an incoming call fills the car. My eyes widen slightly at the caller ID on her display screen.

“Why is Blake calling you?”

“I really don’t know, and you know what? I care even less.” She hits decline, and the music comes back on. For a few seconds anyway, and then Blake calls again.

“Maybe you should answer it?” I offer.

She makes a sound of annoyance as we get on the interstate and she answers the call. “What?” she snaps.

“That’s not a very nice way to start a conversation, love.” His deep, accented voice is filled with amusement.

Harper glances my way, rolling her eyes. “I’m busy. What do you want?”

“That’s a dangerous question to ask,” he taunts, and Harper grips the steering wheel tighter. No one seems to be able to get under her skin like Blake.

“I’m going to chime in and suggest you get to the point,” I say.

“Well, hello to you too, Camille. Lovely to hear your voice.”

“Is there a reason you’re being extra annoying?” Harper asks.

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