Page 46 of Until The Lights Go Out

“He’s probably right,” I said, letting the thoughts that plagued my mind leave my lips.

“No,” she said immediately, fierce enough to make him glance at her. “He’s not.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I dismissed.

“It does matter.”

I looked away. “It doesn’t,” I said more quietly, “because whether he’s right or not, it doesn’t change anything.”

Maisey didn’t answer right away, only a soft sigh leaving her lips. We had talked about it before, of course. My dad only got harsher with the years. His drinking got more frequent and so did the bad moods, the shouting, the things I tried to push to the back of my mind and forget. Maisey, of course, hated him. He had basically said to her face that girls didn’t belong here when we were barely 12. She had been loudly winning and placing ever since. It made pride swell in my chest thinking of how proudly she stood on podiums, pink bows in her braided hair with the biggest smile.

“Do you miss them?” she asked softly.

“I miss my mum,” I admitted quietly. The words slipped out before I could stop them. I never said things like that out loud. Not to anyone. Maisey didn’t react, didn’t make it bigger than it was. Just listened.

“She’s home with Seb most of the time,” I went on. “School and everything. Dad says I need to stay focused on racing, so it’s easier if it’s just us on the road.” I picked at a loose thread on my sleeve. “It’s stupid. I see them all the time compared to most people.”

“It’s not stupid.”

I glanced at her. She was looking at me with that same open expression that always made me feel like I wished she didn’t understand pain or anything that could ever hurt her heart.

“I miss them too when I’m away,” she said, “even when they drive me insane.”

A smile tugged at my mouth. “Your sister drives me insane.”

Maisey barked out a laugh. “That’s because she has excellent taste in targets.”

“She threw a bread roll at me at group dinner,” I said, recalling when we had an all-teams and family event earlier this season.

“She said you looked smug.”

“I was eating soup.”

“She probably thought you were doing it smugly.”

I laughed—really laughed this time—and the heaviness in my chest eased, just a little.

Maisey smiled at the sound, softer now.

“I miss Seb,” I said after a beat. “He makes everything…easier.”

Her shoulder pressed more firmly against mine.

“You have me,” she said simply. The words hit harder than they should have. But I knew she meant it with her whole being. She was always doing that, being everything for everyone. I worried she never stopped to take care of herself. It was something I always felt tugged at to do. But in public, we were rivals, talking smack and shooting glares toward each other or fighting on track.

I turned my head. She was already looking at me. Close enough that I could see the faint freckles across her nose, the way her lashes caught the moonlight. For a second, the world narrowed to just this.

Her.

My pulse kicked hard against my ribs. Then she smiled, teasing to break the tension. “I’m obviously superior company.”

I snorted. “Debatable.”

She gasped dramatically, smacking me playfully with her hand. “Take it back.”

“Never.”

She shoved me again, and this time I caught her wrist before she could pull away.