Page 39 of What They Say

“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.

Chapter Twelve