By His Play

3. Kieran

3

KIERAN

“ W hoa,” I say, reaching for Effie’s arm when she trips over her own feet as we leave the restaurant. “Lightweight as ever, I see,” I tease.

“Shurup,” she slurs.

“Eff, you’ve had two glasses of prosecco and three sips of whiskey. How are you this wasted?” I ask, as I lead her toward my car.

Sure, she’s never been a big drinker. It’s hardly a surprise because she’s tiny. But she can usually handle more than two glasses.

“S’been a while.”

“You don’t say.”

“I missed you, Kieran.”

A genuine smile pulls at my lips, one that I haven’t felt for what feels like years.

I knew I needed to get out of Chicago and break the cycle I’d found myself in after the playoffs, but I didn’t appreciate just how much better I’d feel the moment I laid eyes on Effie.

She’s always been my safe place.

From the very first time we met, she didn’t care who I was, what sport I played, or who I was friends with.

In fact, she was completely indifferent to everything about me.

In return, I was beyond intrigued by the quiet pocket rocket I’d been paired with in chemistry all those years ago.

All my life, people wanted to be friends with me for bullshit, superficial reasons.

And then there was Effie.

While everyone else let me get away with almost anything, she refused to take any shit.

She kept her cards close to her chest, and it took a very long time to get her to open up. But when she did, I felt closer to her than I had anyone. Ever.

And the best bit about our friendship? Unlike everyone else, she didn’t want anything from me.

She wasn’t searching for a way up the social ladder or to fund some lavish lifestyle. She was just her.

Just Effie.

“You good?” I ask as she slumps in the passenger seat.

Her eyelids are heavy and she’s got a lazy smile playing on her lips. I can’t help but laugh at her.

“Yeah, I’m good. Take me home?”

“You got it.”

After strapping her in, I climb into the driver’s seat and start the engine.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispers as we take off down the street.

My breath catches as she reaches for my hand and entwines our fingers.

She squeezes, and I can’t help but do the same.

I knew things were hard here, but I didn’t appreciate just how much she’s been struggling.

Guilt knots up my insides as I think about what a selfish asshole I’ve been recently.

I lost a football game. So fucking what? Effie is losing something so much more important than that.

Seeing Grams today really helped to put things into perspective.

Yeah, losing fucking sucked. Especially knowing that my performance was one of the reasons. But no one died.

I’ll get a chance to try again and redeem myself next year.

Effie isn’t going to get any more time with her grandmother.

A heavy sigh passes my lips, and I try to let go of some of the tension pulling at my muscles.

“There isn’t anywhere I’d rather be,” I say honestly as her breathing gets heavier.

Brushing my thumb over her knuckles, I continue driving in silence, lost in my own thoughts.

I don’t remember my grandparents. Not really.

They were hardly ever around, and when they died, I was too young to understand.

But that’s not the case with Effie and Grams.

For all intents and purposes, Grams was Effie’s mom.

She sure did a hell of a lot more for her than either of her parents did.

My parents might be far from perfect. But at least they’ve always been there for us.

Effie’s parents put her into boarding school and then…left.

Their careers and lavish lifestyle were both more important than their only daughter.

Sadly, it was the same for several kids at our school. But unlike many of them, Effie was lucky enough to have Grams.

She did all the things parents would do. And as our friendship blossomed, she became the grandmother I never had.

After a while, she wouldn’t just turn up to support Effie, but me as well. She’d come to my games when she could. She was there at prom and graduation, clapping just as loudly for me as her own granddaughter.

Pulling up to her house, I kill the engine and sink lower in the seat.

I’ve been here more times than I can count. It feels more like home to me than anywhere I lived with my mom or dad.

It’s the only home I’ve ever known where I feel welcome and relaxed from the second I walk in the front door.

It always smelled of cinnamon, thanks to her almost constant baking. The decorations were soft and cozy, unlike any place I ever lived.

It was like a home you see on the TV with the “perfect” American family.

It was “normal.”

Something that my life never has been.

I was born into wealth. Something I’m very appreciative of.

If it weren’t for the Callahan money, I may not have had the start in life, or the career I have now.

But it’s not always easy. Money doesn’t buy happiness.

It doesn’t buy the kind of contentment and warmth that being inside Grams’ home always gave me.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Effie suddenly whispers, making me jump.

“I love it here,” I confess. "Feels like home.”

“It’s not the same without her.”

“No,” I muse.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sense the gaping hole when I walked into the house earlier.

Gram’s presence was always so warm and inviting. Sure, the house still feels like home, but something is missing.

Someone.

“Some days after I’ve visited her, I just sit here in my car. It shouldn’t be like this. She deserves better,” Effie says, her voice cracking.

My lips part to respond, but what is there to say to that?

“Come on. We should head in,” I eventually say reluctantly.

As much as it might hurt to be in there without her, we can’t spend the night in the car.

Effie sighs.

With my heart in my throat, I push my door open and climb out.

By the time I get around to her side of the car, she’s already on her feet.

“You good?” I ask, remembering all too well how wobbly she was when we left the restaurant.

Her eyes meet mine, and it’s all the answer I need.

She collides with my chest at the same time her sob rips through the air.

With my arms wrapped around her, I rest my chin on the top of her head and let her cry.

I have no idea how long we stand there with nothing but the cool evening air blowing around us, but eventually, Effie’s sobs subside, leaving us in silence.

Without saying a word, I lead her toward the front door and wait for her to dig the key out.

Together, we walk into Gram’s house with heavy hearts.

Although faint, the scent of cinnamon is still there, but much like the woman herself, it’s fading away.

“Go get ready for bed. I’ll make you a drink,” I say, turning toward the kitchen as Effie makes her way to her bedroom.

I work on autopilot as I warm the milk and reach into the cupboard for the hot chocolate powder. Everything is exactly where it’s always been.

With two fully loaded mugs, I take them to her bedroom and place one on her nightstand before lowering myself to the chair in front of her vanity.

Her room looks exactly as it did the first time I came here. It’s girly and full of memories of her childhood. There are photos of her and Grams showcasing almost every year of her life. There are pictures of the two of us on field trips, at my games, or just hanging out.

Each one of them brings a smile to my lips as the sound of running water comes from the bathroom next door.

By the time she emerges dressed in a pair of pink plaid shorts and a white tank, my hot chocolate is cool enough to drink.

Her face is now clear of makeup and her eyes red and puffy from crying. It makes my chest ache. I wish I could do something to fix it. Her hair is piled on top of her head, ready for sleep, and she’s abandoned the contacts she wore tonight in favor of her trusty thick-rimmed glasses. She looks cute as hell.

She watches me sip my drink for a moment before her eyes move to mine.

The cream and marshmallows are melting; it looks nowhere near as good as it did when I brought it in, but that doesn’t matter to her. She’s always been able to see what’s beneath the surface. It’s just one of the many things I love about her.

“Thank you,” she breathes before pulling her covers back, propping her pillows against the headboard, and climbing in.

No sooner she’s settled, than she reaches for her mug. She wraps her tiny hands around it and lifts it to her nose, inhaling a deep breath.

“So good,” she muses before taking her first sip.

Her eyes close as she savors the sweetness, and I’m hit with a strong jolt of nostalgia.

There were many times that I’d sneak into her room after practice, and we’d sit on her bed laughing our asses off about something that happened that day at school while I warmed up with one of her hot chocolates.

I always liked school, but everything about it got better once we became friends. For the first time in my life—and other than my family—I knew that someone loved me for me. It meant everything after already suffering through the discovery that kids I’d previously called friends were only using me. That was a bitter pill to swallow, but only a few weeks into our friendship I just knew that Effie was genuine.

“What are you doing?” she asks when she lowers her mug and opens her eyes.

“Uh…”

“You’re too far away,” she says, throwing the covers back for me to join her.

I glance down at myself, and then at the empty side of the bed.

I’m still dressed in jeans and a shirt from dinner.

“Wait,” I say after abandoning my mug and stalking across the room.

I pull my t-shirt off as soon as I step into the hallway, and I’m down to my boxers as I walk into the guest room.

Sorry, Grams . I chuckle to myself as I try to imagine what her reaction to me walking around in my underwear would be.

I pull a t-shirt and pair of sweats from my duffle bag and quickly return to Effie.

She’s sitting exactly where I left her, and she watches me closely as I round her bed and climb in.

“I hate being here alone. Feels so much better with company,” Effie confesses as she sinks lower, snuggling into her pillow.

“Is that in the house generally, or your bed?” I tease, knowing full well which one she means.

“No man has ever slept in this bed with me.”

“I’m more than happy to be your first,” I quip as I mimic her position and lie so that we’re face to face.

Her eyes bounce between mine before she begins to study my face.

“Penny for your thoughts,” I whisper.

“I bet women would pay thousands to be me right now.”

“Thousands? No, no chance.” Her lips part to argue, but I quickly follow it up with, “I’m worth way more than that. It’s gotta be at least a million or I’m not interested.”

She laughs, but it’s not as real or as deep as I’d like.

“You’re something else, Kieran Callahan.”

“Maybe so, but you wouldn’t have me any other way.”