Chapter Eleven
Kath
Kath stood behind the counter at The Grindhouse, methodically wiping down the espresso machine while her mind wandered miles away.
It had been three days since the last ride with Chase, and she still couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The way he’d sat behind her on the bike without a single complaint about riding passenger.
The quiet respect shown by his hands at her waist. The way he’d listened—really listened—when she read him her lyrics.
No jokes. No trying to “fix” her words. Just steady gray eyes and that soft “I hear music when you read them.”
She’d wanted to kiss him that night. Badly. And the next time they’d been together.
But she hadn’t. Because kissing him would make it real. And real things broke.
“Earth to Kath.”
She blinked and looked up. Her coworker, Riley, was grinning at her from the register.
“You’ve been polishing that same spot for five minutes. You good?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” Kath tossed the rag into the sink. “Just tired.”
Riley raised an eyebrow. “Tired, or thinking about that guy who keeps texting you? The one who makes you actually smile at your phone?”
Kath felt her cheeks warm. “Shut up.”
Riley laughed. “He must be something. You’ve turned down three different regulars this week.”
Kath didn’t answer. She busied herself restocking cups, but her mind drifted back to Chase again. The way he’d said they could go slow. The way he hadn’t pushed. The way he made her feel seen without making her feel exposed.
It terrified her.
Her phone buzzed in her apron pocket. She pulled it out and felt that stupid little flutter in her chest when she saw his name.
*Hey. Hope your shift’s going okay. Got a new melody stuck in my head from the other night. Thinking about your lyrics again. No pressure, but if you ever want to share more...I’m here.*
Kath stared at the message for a long moment, thumb hovering.
She wanted to reply. Wanted to tell him she’d been thinking about him too. That his quiet steadiness was starting to feel like something she could lean on.
But then her mother’s voice echoed in the back of her head—laughing too loud, promising the newest guy was “the one,” packing another bag and leaving them with nothing but bills and silence.
Kath locked her phone without replying and shoved it back into her pocket.
She wasn’t her mother.
But God, she was scared of how easily that difference could be struck down, left by the wayside with one bad decision.
Later that evening, after her shift ended, she rode home slower than usual. When she walked through the front door, Maudie was at the kitchen table again, staring at a stack of bills with a glass of wine in her hand.
Kath hesitated, then sat down across from her.
“Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”
Maudie looked up, tired but not angry this time. “Just trying to figure out how we’re going to chip away at Mom’s mess. The credit cards...they’re not going away.”
“I know.” Kath reached across the table and squeezed her sister’s hand. “We’ll keep doing what we’re doing. Extra shifts. Selling some of my old gear if we have to. We’re not her. We don’t run.”
Maudie gave her a small, genuine smile. “You seem different lately. Lighter. Is it the bike...or the boy?”
Kath felt her face heat. “Both, maybe. Chase is...nice. Different. Doesn’t push.”
Maudie studied her for a long moment. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I will,” Kath promised. “I’m trying to be smart about it.”
They ended up ordering takeout and watching an old movie together—something they hadn’t done in months. For a change, one that was very welcome, the house felt less like a battlefield and more like home.
Maudie’s phone rang, and she answered it with a quick “’Lo?”
She listened for a few beats, then said, “I can be there in twenty. No sweat, boss man. Happy to get those extra hours.” She dropped the phone in her lap. “And just like that, I’ve got another six hours of work.”
“It’s late already. When will you get off?” Kath rolled her neck side to side. “Want me to wait up?”
“No need. We’ll do last call at 2:00 a.m. and shut the doors thirty minutes later. I’ll just come home and fall into bed.” Maudie pushed up from the couch, gathering the trash and remaining food. “I’m gonna head out.” She popped into the kitchen and back out again. “See you later, little sister.”
Kath gave her a brief wave, grinning. The door closed, and a moment later, Maudie’s car coughed to life, the sound dwindling quickly as she drove away.
“And just like that, I’m alone again.” Kath got up from the couch, locked the front door, turned off the TV, and headed to her room, already unbuttoning her pants.
***
Boy with quiet eyes and music in his hands
Makes me want to trust when I don’t understand
Said we can go slow, no pressure, no demands
But my heart’s already running where my head won’t let it land
She set the pen down and stared at the words.
It’d been an hour since she responded to Chase’s text, but she wasn’t worried. They had practice now, and he’d need to be focused on OY, dialing in like she’d watched him do a few times. It became like everything else fell away, leaving his quivering core of music.
As she lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, she let herself imagine what it might feel like to let someone in.
To let him in.
And for the first time, the fear didn’t completely drown out the hope.
***
Later that night, Kath paced the small living room for the tenth time, phone clutched tight in her hand. The clock on the wall read 3:47 a.m. Maudie should’ve been home long ago. She always texted when she was going to be late—even if it was just a quick *staying at Jen’s* or *don’t wait up*.
But tonight? Nothing.
Kath had already called Maudie’s three closest friends. Jen hadn’t seen her since yesterday. Sarah said she thought Maudie was working a double at the bar. No one knew where she was.
Her stomach twisted tighter with every unanswered ring when she tried Maudie’s number again.
“Dammit, Maudie,” she whispered when it went to voicemail, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.
This wasn’t like her sister. Not anymore. Not since they’d started trying to be better to each other. Not since the night they’d actually talked about Mom and the debt and everything they were carrying.
Her phone buzzed. Emy’s name lit up the screen.
Kath answered on the first ring, voice shaky. “Emy—”
“Breathe,” Emy said immediately, her voice steady even from half a state away. “I can hear you spiraling through the phone. What’s going on?”
“Maudie’s not home. She didn’t text, didn’t call, and none of her friends have seen her. I’ve tried her like twenty times, and it just goes to voicemail.” Kath’s voice cracked. “What if something happened? What if she’s—”
“Hey. Hey,” Emy cut in gently. “Maudie’s tough. She’s probably just being an idiot somewhere and lost track of time. Remember when she did that last year and turned up at 3 a.m. with tacos and a black eye from some bar fight? She’s probably fine. Just...drunk and stupid.”
Kath let out a watery laugh that sounded more like a sob. “I hate this. I hate worrying about her like I’m the parent. I hate that Mom left us this mess, and now I’m scared every time she’s late that she’s spiraling too.”
“I know, babe,” Emy said softly. “But you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me. And from what you’ve told me, you and Maudie are actually trying lately. That matters.”
Kath sank onto the couch, knees pulled up to her chest. “I just want her to be okay.”
“She will be. Just keep breathing. I’m right here.”
They stayed on the phone for another few minutes, Emy talking her down with old stories and terrible jokes until Kath’s breathing evened out. They hung up after Emy’s roommate complained at the hour, giggling like schoolgirls at a sleepover.
Then the front door rattled.
Kath shot up from the couch as the door swung open. Maudie stumbled in, hair a mess, makeup smudged, clearly hammered. She weaved across the living room like the floor was tilting, one hand braced on the wall.
“Maudie!” Kath breathed, relief crashing through her so hard her knees almost buckled.
Maudie didn’t answer. She just made a beeline for the bathroom, door slamming behind her.
A moment later, the unmistakable sound of retching echoed through the house.
Kath stood frozen in the living room, heart still racing from the worry, now torn in a completely different way.
Part of her wanted to stay on the couch.
To let Maudie deal with it alone like she’d done so many times before.
The other part—the part that remembered what it felt like when someone actually showed up for you—won out.
She grabbed a clean washcloth from the hall closet, ran it under cold water, and pushed open the bathroom door.
Maudie was on her knees in front of the toilet, shoulders shaking. She looked small. Vulnerable. Nothing like the sharp-tongued big sister who usually had something cutting to say.
Kath knelt beside her without a word and gently pressed the cool cloth to the back of Maudie’s neck. Then she wiped her sister’s face carefully, brushing damp hair back from her forehead.
Maudie didn’t fight her. She just leaned into the touch, eyes closed, breathing ragged.
“I’m sorry,” Maudie rasped between heaves. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I know,” Kath whispered, rinsing the cloth and wiping her sister’s face again. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
They stayed like that for a long time—no arguing, no accusations, no bringing up the debt or the bike or their mother. Just Kath holding the cloth to Maudie’s forehead and Maudie letting herself be taken care of for once.
When the worst of it passed, Maudie slumped back against the tub, eyes glassy but clearer.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, I did.” Kath sat beside her on the cold tile floor. “You’re my sister. We’re supposed to do this shit for each other.”
Maudie gave a weak, tired smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
Later, after Kath had helped her sister into bed and set a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand, she stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching Maudie sleep.
And as she closed the door softly behind her, she realized she was smiling through the exhaustion.
Maybe they were both learning how to show up for each other.
One hard night at a time.