By His Play

44. Kieran

44

KIERAN

I t was still light when I let myself into Effie’s apartment.My heart was racing and my hands were trembling.

Trying to contain the anger and frustration that was threatening to explode was almost too much.

I didn’t want to believe the message I received. But he had no reason to lie to me.

The instant I walked in here, I knew.

I could sense her presence. And then, just to confirm it, I walked into her bedroom.

It was tidy, her bed was made, but it was obvious that she’d been living here.

She’s had a housekeeper looking after the place. All the other times I’ve been here when she was in St. Louis, everything was perfect. Almost like walking into a show home.

After confirming what I already knew, I lowered my ass to the armchair that faces the front door and waited.

I figured that if she was at work, she wouldn’t be too late.

Effie is a creature of habit. In the past, unless she was on a tight deadline, she would always leave at the same time and take the same route home.

She’s not a partier or even one to go for drinks after work, so I doubted she’d be doing that on her first day back.

So, when she didn’t return around the time I expected, I started to get suspicious.

She’s here. I know she is.

But where?

The sun sets behind me as I remain in the chair, waiting.

I’m not leaving until I’ve seen her. Until I’ve looked her in the eyes.

But as the hours pass, my need to pull her into my arms and tell her that I’m sorry for everything that’s happened gets engulfed by rage.

I want to know why she’s been lying to me.

I need to know why she hasn’t told me she’s back.

But more than anything, I need my best friend back.

These few weeks have been awful. With the pain of losing Grams, and then Effie too…

I shake my head.

I’m angry, but that won’t stop me from getting on my knees and begging to have her back in my life.

Dramatic? Maybe.

But I don’t care.

I need her.

I’m starting to believe she’s never going to appear, and my irritation rises further.

Thoughts of her being back in town for ages and not telling me float around my head.

She’s barely been talking to me. I was happy to believe that she was in St. Louis while ignoring me. But was she right under my nose all this time?

Before long, I’m sitting in the dark, aware that I’m probably going to scare the shit out of her when she does finally let herself in.

But I can’t find it in me to care.

I’ve almost given up hope when I hear a key slide into the lock.

My heart jumps into my throat.

All this time, all I’ve wanted is to see her, to talk to her, to be able to look into her eyes and know that she’s not drowning like she was in St. Louis.

The fact she’s here should tell me that she’s finding a way to get on with her life, but I still need to see it with my own eyes.

Each of her light footsteps rocks through me like gunshots. But nothing compares to the moment she finally flips the light on.

Her eyes widen with fear the exact moment she finds someone in her apartment a beat before she lets out a blood-curdling scream.

But I don’t focus on her fear. I can’t. Not when I’m fueled by nothing but fury.

I surge to my feet and march closer to her, leaving the couch between us. “Where the fuck have you been?” I bark.

“What the fuck, Kieran?” she squeals, her right hand covering her chest, where her heart is most likely trying to beat out of it.

As she tries to catch her breath, I let my eyes run down her body.

She’s wearing a zip-up hoodie and leggings. Her hair has been pulled back into a ponytail, although most of it has escaped and is curling around the sides of her face and neck, and her cheeks are flushed.

“Where have you been?” I repeat, needing an answer.

“Fuck you,” she spits. My eyebrows shoot skyward in shock.

Effie has never spoken to me like that before.

“Excuse me?” I seethe, watching as she takes off toward the kitchen.

She remains silent as she yanks the refrigerator open and pulls out a bottle of water.

She twists the top with more force than necessary, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s picturing doing it to my head.

She takes a drink, and my eyes automatically drop to her throat as she swallows.

My mouth waters, and I lick across my bottom lip, remembering how sweet that skin tastes.

But any good memories of our time together are thwarted when she slams the bottle down so hard on the counter it sloshes out of the top.

Her eyes narrow on mine as anger radiates from her.

Welcome to my world, sweetheart.

“You do not get to let yourself into my home and then stand there and make demands like I owe you something.”

“You do fucking owe me something. You owe me the truth,” I bellow.

She huffs in disbelief.

“What truth, Kieran?”

“That you’re back. Did you not think I’d want to know the second you drove into Chicago?”

Her shoulders slump a little. As much as I’m glad to see her back down, I fucking hate it in equal measures.

I need this.

I need the fire, the shouting, the screaming.

I need to know that she cares too.

“Do you think I didn’t want to?” she confesses. “Do you think it wasn’t the first thing I wanted to do when I found out I needed to come back? Do you think I haven’t stared at your contact every single day, trying to summon up the courage to talk to you? To hear your voice?”

Some of my anger dissipates at her words and the wrought expression on her face. “W-what?”

“Henry called me last week. Jasmine was in an accident.”

I stare at her blankly.

Why didn’t I know this?

“I drove back on Friday. I’ve been here all weekend. Is that what you wanted to know? That I’ve been lying to you for a week? That I’ve been here for four days without telling you?”

The longer I stare at her, the more my anger ebbs away, and what she just told me settles in my head.

“You were scared to call me?” I ask, hating that I’ve done anything to make her feel that way.

I want to be her safe place. Always.

“Things are fucked up, Kieran. Everything is fucked up.”

“Only if we let it be,” I say, my voice softening.

A bitter laugh spills from her lips.

“We broke everything, Kieran. What we were before...it’s gone. We can never go back to that. Not since we?—”

She sucks in a sharp breath, cutting herself off as a huge wave of fear washes through me.

I can’t lose her. I just can’t.

“Fucked?” I offer.

Effie shakes her head, dropping her face into her hands.

“I’m not doing this right now, Kieran. I don’t have the energy.”

“Fine. Then don’t. Go and do whatever it was you were planning. I’m ordering food; I’m starving.”

“What?” She balks. “That wasn’t an invitation to stay.”

My teeth grind, that fire reigniting inside me at how easily she can cast me aside.

I thought I meant more to her than that.

Is she right, have we fucked all this up?

Pain shoots through me, my stomach twisting with anxiety.

“If you want me to leave, why don’t you tell me to my face?”

She stares at me, her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring.

It takes her a few seconds to find the strength, but to my surprise, she does.

“I want you to leave."

Her voice comes out strong and unwavering.

It hits me like a truck, and I can’t help but take a step back.

Disbelief coats every inch of me. There’s no way she can’t read it on my face.

I’m too shocked to be able to smother my reaction.

“Effie?”

“I’m not fucking around, Kieran. I can’t do this. It’s been a long day, and—” She pauses to breathe. “Do you know what? I don’t owe you an explanation. Just…not now.”

“So, when?”

“I don’t know.”

The worst part about those three words is that she means them.

“But—”

“There is no but. I might be back, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to deal with everything. I’m confused, Kieran. Everything we did...Everything that happened...”

“It was just a bit of fun,” I offer, clutching at straws as panic hits me. “Just because I’ve licked your pussy, it doesn’t mean we can’t be?—”

“Stop,” she says, holding her palms up. “Just stop. When I’m ready to talk, I’ll call you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But that’s my prerogative.”

“Yeah,” I mutter sadly. “I guess it is.”

Our eyes hold as our chests heave.

We’re both as angry as each other at this whole situation.

Despite wanting to hash it out and figure out a way forward, it’s never going to happen like this.

She’s right.

I need to leave. Even if it feels like ripping my own heart out while doing so.

“This isn’t over,” I warn before taking a step back, letting her know that I’m conceding.

Her lips kick up, but the smile she gives me is anything but happy.

“It might have to be.”

With that final kick to the balls, I spin on my heels and march toward her front door. But my need to have the last word gets the better of me, and just before the door closes behind me, I call, “It’ll never be over with us, Effie. Ever.”

“ W hat the fuck are you doing, man?” a familiar voice asks.

The question hurts. It’s the same one I demanded of Effie when she got back to her apartment tonight.

“Leave me alone,” I slur.

“Not happening. Bill called us to come and drag your ass out of here. The bar closed an hour ago.”

I try to focus on the two looming figures standing before me, only they don’t seem to be standing still. They’re…swaying.

“More,” I mutter, reaching for my empty glass, but instead of picking it up and lifting it to my lips in the hope there’s scotch, I knock it to the floor. It shatters at my feet.

I stare down at the broken pieces. It’s a good representation of my life right now.

I let my team down, and I let my best friend down.

What am I going to fuck up next?

“Come on, man.”

Hands grab my arms and before I know what’s happening, I’m being hauled from the stool I was slumped on.

“Thanks for the call, Bill,” Jamie Franks calls. He’s our tight end. A fucking good one, too.

Together, he and Brax escort me out of the bar.

“Get the fuck off me,” I bark, fighting to get away from them the second we get outside. “I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Of course you don’t,” Jamie mocks. “Do you even know which direction your apartment is?”

I scoff. Of course I fucking do.

“Get him in the car,” Brax demands before I’m shoved forward.

I trip on the curb and fall into the car.

Probably not my finest hour, but there’s a high chance that I’ll have forgotten about it by morning.

All I can hope is that no one is filming me.

The drive home is a blur, but I’m very aware when I’m hauled out of the car.

“Evening, Gavin,” I slur as we pass the doorman of my building.

“Jesus. What happened?” he asks as I’m dragged toward the elevators.

“Partied a little too hard,” Brax says, as aware as Gavin is that this isn’t normal behavior for me.

Sure, I drink. But I know my limits. I never lose control.

Or at least, I didn’t until tonight.

Until she told me to leave.