Chapter Two
Kath
Kath moved through their little house like a ghost, careful and quiet, pressing her back to the wall as she eased around the corner to peer into the kitchen.
She was listening for him—Tony, her older sister Maudie’s latest mistake.
The man had been circling closer for weeks, and Kath had learned the hard way that staying out of the path of men like him was smarter and easier than trusting Maudie to believe or protect her.
At eighteen, she already knew too much about how the world worked. She’d seen her mother bring home enough men to understand exactly what they wanted and how quickly things could turn ugly. Avoidance was her best defense.
The kitchen was empty. Thank God.
She moved fast, grabbing a couple of sodas and a bag of chips, then a bag of cookies for good measure. Emy was waiting in her room, and the sooner Kath got back behind a locked door, the better she’d feel.
She was halfway down the hall when she heard it.
Emy’s voice—tight and scared, rising in pitch.
“No. You need to back up. There’s nothing in here for you.”
Tony’s low chuckle made Kath’s skin crawl. “Fucking hell, that hurt. And maybe I think you’re wrong. Maybe I think I should come in...all the way in.” He was standing on the other side of the door, like he could hide from everything.
Kath didn’t think. She dropped the snacks on the floor and kicked her bedroom door hard.
The door slapped against Tony’s back, and Maudie must have been listening to the altercation because from down the hallway, she appeared instantly, her face flushed with irritation.
“Tony!” she snapped. “You should come back in here if you know what’s good for you.”
Tony turned, eyes narrowing when he saw Kath standing there.
He gave Emy one last lingering look before stepping away.
In an instant, his hand clamped brutally tight around Kath’s arm, pulling her into him so his crotch brushed deliberately against her as he passed. The contact made her stomach turn.
Maudie grabbed his arm and yanked him towards her room. “This is bullshit. I’ve put up with it long enough.”
The second they were gone, Kath grabbed up the snacks, shoved Emy back into the bedroom, and slammed the door, twisting the lock with shaking fingers. They stood there for a second, hearts pounding, staring at each other with wide eyes.
Then they both burst into nervous, slightly hysterical laughter that quickly faded into shaky silence.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Kath asked, scanning her best friend for any sign of trouble, her hands hovering like she was afraid to touch her.
Emy shook her head, still grinning even though her hands were trembling. “No, but not for lack of trying. I used that finger-lock move Walt taught us in gym last week. Bent his pinkie straight back.”
“Ouch.” Kath laughed despite herself. “Good job, guard dog.”
Maudie pounded on the wall from the next room. “Stop cackling, you two witches!”
Emy grinned wickedly. “Better a guard dog than a witch, I always say.” She dropped onto the bed and started sorting through the rescued snacks. “Paris someday, right? Where no one grabs you without permission.”
Kath flopped down beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “Paris someday,” she agreed softly.
They shared a quiet look—one that said everything going on in their heads without needing words. Emy was the only person in the world who Kath trusted completely. The only one who never made her feel like she had to survive alone.
Emy tore open the bag of chips and dumped crumbled cookies into it, closing and shaking the bag with dramatic flair. “Best snack combo in the universe. Sweet and savory in one bag. Now come on, we’re watching that French movie with the hot guys who don’t speak English.”
Kath laughed and leaned back against the headboard. “So we’re going to read a story. Got it. You’re such a nerd.”
“Yeah, but I’m your nerd.” Emy bumped her shoulder. “Love you, brat.”
“Love you too, guard dog.”
The familiar warmth of Emy’s presence chased away the last of the adrenaline shakes. The room felt smaller, safer, like the rest of the house and Tony’s creeping shadow couldn’t quite reach them behind the locked door.
Emy bumped her shoulder again, softer this time. “We’re getting out of here someday, you know. Paris. Or anywhere that doesn’t smell like cheap vodka and regret.”
Kath nodded, but her chest tightened. Emy’s plans already had her leaving soon, heading off to college. In a couple of short weeks, she’d be half a state away. The thought of facing this house, with Maudie’s chaos, and nights like tonight without her best friend made everything feel heavier.
“Ride or die,” Kath said suddenly, voice quiet but fierce.
She turned her head to look at Emy. “You and me. Even when you’re off at college being all brilliant and important.
No matter what happens. If one of us goes down, the other drags her back up.
Late-night calls, weekend bus rides, whatever it takes.
We don’t do this alone anymore. Not ever. Promise?”
Emy’s eyes shone in the dim lamplight, a fierce little grin breaking across her face even as her hand found Kath’s and squeezed tight.
“Ride or die,” she echoed, the words sounding like a vow.
“I’ve got your back, Granola Bandit. Always.
College doesn’t change that. Phone calls at 2 a.m., care packages, coming home whenever you need me.
You’re stuck with me, no matter the miles. And I’m stuck with you.”
They held the look for a long moment, something solid and unbreakable settling between them.
Not just friends, they were sisters by choice, forged in the same fire.
Kath felt the weight in her chest lighten just a fraction.
With Emy’s promise ringing in her ears, the coming separation felt a little less like abandonment and more like a bridge they’d both cross when they needed to.
Emy hit Play on the movie, the soft French dialogue filling the room, but neither of them let go of the other’s hand.
As the movie started, Kath let herself breathe. For a little while, the house felt smaller. Safer.
Just her and Emy against the world.
Like always.
***
Later, after the French dialogue had faded and Emy’s breathing had evened out into sleep, Kath slipped out of bed.
The floorboards were cool under her bare feet as she padded down the hall.
She told herself she needed water, but really she just wanted to make sure the house was still quiet—no slamming doors, no raised voices, no new chaos waiting to swallow them whole.
The kitchen light was on, a sickly yellow glow spilling into the hallway. Kath slowed, pressing herself against the wall as she peered around the corner, looking for Tony.
Maudie sat hunched at the kitchen table, shoulders curved inwards like she was trying to disappear.
A messy stack of envelopes and papers fanned out in front of her—final notices, past-due reminders, the kind of mail that always seemed to multiply when Mom was gone.
Maudie had her phone pressed tight to her ear, voice a harsh, desperate whisper.
“...I know it’s overdue. I’m handling it. Just give me until the end of the month.” A pause. “No, don’t call again. Please.”
The person on the other end must have kept talking, because Maudie’s knuckles went white around the phone.
She hung up without another word and dropped her head into her hands.
For a long moment, she just sat there, shoulders shaking with silent sobs that made Kath’s chest tighten painfully.
The only sounds were the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old table as Maudie’s body trembled.
Then, as if flipping a switch, Maudie straightened.
She gathered the papers with quick, angry movements, stuffing them into the junk drawer like they were something toxic that might burn her if she held them too long.
She wiped her face roughly with the heel of her hand, sniffed once, and pushed to her feet.
The chair legs scraped loudly in the quiet house as she headed back towards her room.
Kath stayed hidden in the shadows of the hallway, heart aching so fiercely it felt like a bruise.
She wanted to step out, wrap her arms around her big sister, and promise they’d figure it out together—like they always had.
Split the bills. Call the creditors. Make a plan.
But nope, Maudie’s stature and actions had made it painfully clear she didn’t want help.
She wanted to pretend everything was fine, to keep carrying the weight alone so Kath could stay the “baby” a little longer.
The ache deepened into something heavier, a familiar helplessness that tasted like rust and old fear.
Kath crept back to her room on silent feet, the weight of the house pressing down on her heavier than ever. The walls felt thinner tonight, the ceiling lower, every creak and shadow whispering the same old truth: They were still cleaning up Mom’s messes, even when she wasn’t here to make them.
She eased the door shut behind her and leaned against it, eyes closed, listening to Emy’s soft, even breathing. At least one of them could sleep tonight.
***
Chase
The studio at Slate’s place smelled like fresh coffee, old wood, and guitar polish.
Late-afternoon light slanted through the high windows, catching dust motes in the air as Chase settled onto a stool with his acoustic across his lap.
The drummer, Blake, was gone, said he had some family thing up north, so they’d ditched the full band setup for the afternoon.
Just acoustics, a couple of mics, and whatever ideas they could chase without the full kit.