By His Play

12. Kieran

12

KIERAN

I t took everything I had not to break down as Effie said her final goodbye to Grams. My eyes were full of tears, my own grief ripping at my insides.

Losing my own grandparents didn’t leave an impact on me, but losing Grams will.

But as much as it hurts, I need to be strong for Effie. She needs me to be her rock.

I know death is inevitable. It’s going to be a part of everyone’s life at some point. But fuck…it’s devastating and life-changing. No, life-destroying.

Effie will get through this. But it’s going to impact the rest of her life.

We stayed at the care home with Grams for almost an hour before she decided that she’d said everything she needed to.

Thankfully, Laura kept her distance. I’m not sure if that’s because of her guilt or the look I gave her earlier, or a little of both.

Whatever the reason, I’ll happily never see her again.

I don’t care about the lies, but the way she’s used Effie and Grams for her own gain is something I really fucking care about. And one way or another, I’m going to make sure she knows exactly how much I dislike it.

It may not happen today, or even next week, but she will learn a very important lesson over this.

Effie is one of the most important people in my life, and you do not mess with my family. Ever.

The drive back home was as quiet as the journey there. A couple of times, I thought Effie had fallen asleep, but every time I glanced over, I found her staring out of the window blankly.

As soon as we stepped into Grams’ house, she slipped her sliders off and headed straight for her bedroom.

I made a pit stop by the kitchen for the hot chocolate I failed to make for her earlier and then joined her under the covers.

She may not have invited me, but right now, words are not necessary.

“Please,” I beg as I pass the mug toward her.

She hasn’t had anything since the sip of water in the car. I understand that she doesn’t want anything right now, but I won’t take no for an answer.

Her eyes find mine, and her lips part to argue, but whatever she finds stops her from saying the words teetering on the tip of her tongue.

“Thank you,” she finally whispers, taking the mug and holding it close.

Side by side, we sit silently, sipping on our drinks.

There’s so much that needs saying, but also, there aren’t enough words in the world to capture what we’re both going through right now.

As soon as she’s had enough, which thankfully is more than I was expecting, she places her mug on the nightstand and slides lower in the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

A few seconds later, I follow suit and lie in front of her.

Her eyes are open, but they’re not focused. She’s too lost in her grief.

Unable to do anything else, I reach out, wrap my arm around her waist, and tug her closer.

If the only thing I can do right now is to make her feel safe and protected, then I’ll take it.

She whimpers as I hold her tighter, her nose only an inch from mine.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “Get some sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up. I promise.”

It takes a long time for her eyelids to lower, but when they do, it only takes seconds for her breathing to get heavier and for her body to relax against mine.

I, however, don’t manage to drift off for the longest time as I run through the endless things she’s going to have to deal with in the coming days.

I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, let alone my best friend.

M y body is heavy, my limbs still fully asleep, but something wakes me, and when my eyelids lift, I discover why.

Effie is sobbing right next to me.

She’s doing it silently with her back to me so I can’t see the tears, but the way her body trembles is a dead giveaway.

Just like last night, I reach out and pull her tiny body into mine. Locking one arm around her waist, I slide the other beneath her and wrap it around her shoulders before pulling my knees up so I’m spooning her.

Wrapping her arms around mine, she clings to me as she cries.

I hate this. I fucking hate that she’s hurting and all I can do is hold her.

But as much as I hate it, I’ll do it for as long as she needs me to.

Eventually, her sobs subside and she sucks in a ragged breath before wiping her eyes and whispering, “You’re still here.”

“Of course. I promised I would be.”

“I know, but you get up early.”

“Not today. My girl needs me.”

Her breath catches and she spins in my arms so she’s facing me.

Her eyes are red and puffy. They look sore as hell, and the dark bruising beneath them lets me know just how little sleep she actually got.

She smiles, although it’s forced.

“I’m not ready for today,” she confesses quietly.

My knee-jerk reaction is to say that it’ll be okay, but I’d be lying. There is going to be nothing okay about today.

Staff at the care home offered to call Effie’s father to let him know, but Effie refused. I thought they should do it to save her the dual pain of saying the words out loud and having to talk to her father.

The man is an asshole, and I’d happily never see him again in my life.

But I also understand Effie’s desire to do it herself.

“I’ll be right beside you. We’ll do it together.”

Her hand lands on my forearm, and she squeezes in a silent thank you. The—fake—diamond in her ring catches the light, and my eyes focus on it.

It’s on her right hand, but I know for a fact she was wearing it on the other one before I arrived. Grams would have noticed otherwise.

“I guess I can take this off, now.”

Her words make me suck in a sharp breath, and my eyes jump to her.

I shouldn’t care about her putting an end to the lie. I should be relieved that we can go back to normal. Not that anything has really been normal since I arrived in St. Louis.

I want to say that it’s the thought of having to deal with all the media attention that’s still rampant outside of our little bubble here, but honestly, I think it’s more than that.

There’s something reassuring in knowing that we’re connected on a deeper level while she’s going through this.

Fucked up? Maybe.

But I want to be by her side, and I want people to know she has someone in her life.

Her face will have been all over the internet this week, and now that she’s grieving, she’ll be a prime target for the scumbags out there who think they can prey on a woman while she’s weak.

Yeah…that is not fucking happening.

I promised to protect her, and I will in any way I can.

“No,” I state, a little harsher than I intended. The thought of her being used as a pawn in some money grabber’s game has anger and fear surging through my veins.

Reaching out, I pinch the ring between my thumb and forefinger and slide it from her hand.

“What are you doing?” she asks weakly as I lift the covers, searching for her other hand.

“I need the other one,” I state as if it’s obvious.

Her brows pinch, but she raises her left hand from the cover, her eyes holding mine as I slide the ring back into place.

“W-what are you doing?” she whispers, her eyes wide as she stares at her finger.

Reaching out, I tuck my fingers under her chin, forcing her to look back at me.

“The next week is going to be hard,” I explain—not that I need to; she’s more than aware of what’s ahead of her. “Everyone out there thinks we’re engaged, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m not sure either of us is going to have the time or energy to try and convince the world otherwise.

“We need to be focusing on Grams and giving her the send-off she deserves, not arguing with everyone about our upcoming nuptials.”

“B-but?—"

“I’m going to be standing right by your side through all this. We’ll never convince them, Effie. It’s pointless trying. We have time to figure it all out. It’s not important right now.”

“But everyone thinks you’re engaged. Surely you’re not happy about that.”

I shrug the shoulder I’m not lying on.

“You, Effie Campbell, are more important than what everyone out there thinks of me.”

Leaning forward, I press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

“And right now, you need coffee and food,” I announce before throwing the covers off and rolling out of bed.

I keep my back to her as I sink my hand into my sweats to rearrange my morning semi before taking off across the room.

“I’m not hungry,” she whispers predictably.

“That’s okay. It’ll take us a while to bake the cinnamon buns anyway,” I shoot over my shoulder as I leave the room.

I’m sure she wants to argue, but I don’t hear anything as I make my way to the bathroom.

By the time I emerge again, there’s movement in her room. I pause at the doorway to find her sitting at her vanity and staring blankly at a photograph of her and Grams when she was a child.

“I’ll be right there,” she says, her eyes lifting to the mirror so she can see me.

“Whenever you’re ready. No rush.”

She nods. “There are things I need to do.”

With a nod, I duck around the corner and head toward the kitchen.

I might want to be beside her every second of the day, but the reality is that she needs some time alone to try and figure all this out.

Hopefully, once everything here is finalized, she’ll move back to Chicago. But even if she does that, she has her own life, her own apartment. There are going to be plenty of times when I’m not there, especially once the season starts again.

Questions about how we’re going to handle the next few weeks spin around my mind, but I don’t have answers for any of them.

If we don’t immediately deny the rumors, we’re as good as confirming them. But right now, that feels easier than fighting when we should be grieving.

With a loud sigh, I move toward the coffee machine and turn it on before pulling out the ingredients I’ve become all too familiar with since arriving here.

I can make these buns without the recipe now, and even better than that, I can’t remember the last time I burned one. Grams would be so proud.

Not as proud as I know Effie will make her in the next couple of weeks. I do not doubt that her granddaughter is going to give her a send-off full of love and happy memories.