Catherine's voice came back the way it always did when I was tired enough to stop keeping it out. The last call, her voice strained and low, asking me to promise.
"She has never known hardship. Be kind to her. Don't let her look so lost."
I pressed two fingers to my temple.
"The cabin," I said.
I let myself in without turning on the lights. The living room was quiet and still. I saw her backpack on the table where she had left it and Her bedroom door was pulled shut.
I checked the kitchen. No hangover remedy on the counter, nothing covered and waiting the way she sometimes left things.
I stood there for a moment, felt a sliver of guilt at the way I left her and for the first time in a long time, prayed she hadn't done something stupid or gotten even more drunk after I left.
I wanted
