9. Kieran
9
KIERAN
M y cell has finally died, and I have no intention of turning it back on.
I’ve spoken to my brothers and attempted to explain, but everyone else can get fucked.
I’ve had over ten missed calls from Kat, probably wanting to scream at me for not warning her about this huge development in my life, but I don’t care.
The only person who matters is sitting right beside me. That’ll always be true, even if I want to throttle her for lying to me.
The reason our friendship has lasted for so long is because we’ve always been honest with each other.
It hurts more than I’m willing to confess right now that she didn’t talk to me about this.
Would I have thought she was crazy if she’d brought it up? One hundred percent, yes. But I’d have understood.
I’d have done anything to make Grams’ final weeks happy ones as well.
If she’d have explained, I’d have agreed. It might have freaked me the fuck out, but I’d have agreed.
I’d do anything for both of them, including going along with this farce of an engagement.
Suddenly, all the weird comments from both Grams and the whistleblower nurse make sense.
If the whole thing wasn’t so unbelievable, I might have figured it out.
I glance down at the ring on Effie’s right hand and wince.
Did they really think I’d have given her that?
Sure, it’s pretty. But Effie deserves something so much better.
She deserves the world, and a man who can buy her the ring of her dreams, amongst many, many other things.
There’s so much I want to say to her, but I can’t find the words. They’re trapped under a thick layer of hurt.
I’ve told her so many times this week that I’d do anything for her and Grams. Anything. I meant it too.
And yet she still didn’t tell me.
I let out a sigh as the rain continues soaking everything around us.
“Do you want to go and see her?” Effie suddenly asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
I know that I should just forgive her and move on.
But it’s not that easy.
“The nurses should be finished now.”
Pushing to the edge of the bench, I agree.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she explains as I walk toward the main doors.
It pains me to leave her behind, but I do it.
Thankfully, Grams’ room is empty when I slip inside. I’m annoyed with the nurse who sold her story. I have a few words I’d like to say to her, but at the same time, what’s the point?
She’s already done the damage and had her five minutes of fame. It’s too late to do anything about it now.
“Hey, Grams,” I say, hating that she doesn’t react to me in any way.
I lower myself to the chair that Effie has been sitting in for hours while I was outside deep in my own thoughts.
For a few minutes, I can’t muster up any words.
What is there to really say in this situation?
But after a while, something bubbles up.
“You don’t need to worry about holding on. I know you’re worried about Effie. But I promise you that she’ll be okay. You’ve raised an incredibly smart and strong young woman.”
I try to swallow the lump that crawls up my throat, but it doesn’t shift.
“No matter what happens, or where life takes us, I’ll always be there for her.”
It’s no lie. I will. I don’t care if she meets someone, gets married, and has kids. I will always be there if she needs me.
The thought of her with a serious man in her life causes a weird reaction that I can’t identify. I shove it away. It’s not exactly close to being a reality right now, so I figure it doesn’t need worrying about.
“I love her. I always have. She’s my girl. But you know that, don’t you?” A sad laugh spills from my lips as I try to imagine how she reacted when Effie told her our fake news.
I bet she was beside herself with happiness.
A noise at the door catches my attention, and I startle when I find Effie standing there with tear-stained cheeks.
“Speak of the devil and she shall appear,” I tease. “Here,” I say, getting up so she can retake her seat.
She looks unsure as she joins us, but she ignores the empty seat in favor of perching on the edge of Grams’ bed.
Effie takes her delicate hand in hers and lifts it to kiss her knuckles.
“Kieran is right, Grams. I’ll be okay. D-don’t hold on because of m-me. It’s t-time to find peace.”
Stepping up behind her, I wrap my arms around her as her first sob breaks free.
Grams’ breathing is shallower than ever. She’s really struggling.
As much as I hate everything about this and how much Effie is about to lose, it’s time. Effie knows it too.
I hold her as tight as I dare in an attempt to keep her together.
I might be annoyed with her, but she’ll always be my best friend, and I will always be here.
It’s long, heartbreaking minutes later when her broken whisper fills the air. “We should go.”
It’s the first time this week I haven’t had to drag her out of here kicking and screaming.
“Okay,” I breathe, relieved that she isn’t going to make me fight her tonight.
Releasing her, I step around her to say goodbye to Grams before telling Effie that I’ll meet her outside.
In only a few minutes, she joins me in the hallway with her head bowed.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say before wrapping my arm around her shoulder and pulling her into my body.
“I know,” she whimpers, hugging my waist tightly.
When we get outside, the rain has subsided, and after opening her door for her, I climb in and sit in silence with her, staring at the building we just emerged from.
“I don’t know if I can do what comes next,” Effie confesses as she pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them.
“Of course you can,” I assure her sadly. “I’ll be with you the whole way.”
She glances over. “Will you?”
The simple question makes my chest ache.
“Of course.” I give her a small smile and start the car.
We need to talk, but right now isn’t the time.
W e stop at the drive-through for dinner on the way home, and I’m forced to sit in the car with the scent of burgers and fries taunting me. My stomach growls loudly, but I force myself to wait until we’re back.
As soon as we’re in the house, I make a beeline for the kitchen table and rip open the bag.
Effie moves much slower. I glance up as she finally makes it to the kitchen and concern rushes through me. Her legs look like they’re going to buckle beneath her any minute.
“Come and eat,” I demand, pushing her food toward her.
She lowers herself to the chair opposite me and just stares at the fries.
“Please, Effie,” I beg.
“I-I can’t,” she whispers, pushing the food away.
“I can’t watch you do this to yourself. Grams would never forgive me. I promised her I’d look after you, remember?” I say, my cheeks heating as I recall her listening to my words earlier.
I meant them, and I’ll happily tell her to her face, but overhearing me telling her dying grandmother feels more intimate somehow.
“You said that I was your girl,” she says quietly, ignoring what I said about looking after her. “But that’s not true. I’ve never been yours.”
I want to point out that it didn’t stop her from pretending that I asked her to marry me, but I bite back the words. Now is not the time.
“Effie, you’ll always be my number one girl. Now, please, please, eat something. If you won’t do it for me, do it for her.”
She narrows her eyes at me, unimpressed by my blackmail attempt.
I know everything feels bad right now, but something tells me that it’s going to get worse before it’ll get better, and I need to help her somehow. Attempting to keep her body functioning is going to be easier than trying to stop her from drowning.
It takes a few seconds, but she reluctantly reaches out for a fry and bites it in half.
“Good girl,” I praise, and when her wide eyes jump to mine, my heart skips a beat.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she mocks, trying to lighten the mood.
“Nah, all the ones I spend time with are bad.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course.”
It takes her ages, but she eventually eats half her fries and two chicken tenders before she admits defeat and pushes everything in my direction to finish for her.
As much as I want to refuse and make her eat it, I know she’s done.
I’ve got a mouthful of her almost-cold fries when she pushes her chair back and starts searching through the cupboards.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, but other than a glance over her shoulder, she doesn’t respond.
I soon get my answer a few minutes later when she pulls out a bottle.
“What is that?” I ask with a frown, not recognizing it.
Effie shrugs as she twists the lid off and lifts the neck to her lips.
Whatever it is isn’t very nice if her face is anything to go by.
“Eff,” I warn, hating that she feels she needs to turn to alcohol to help with everything.
“It’ll help me sleep. I just…need some rest.”
“Shit,” I whisper, scrubbing my hand down my face.
She swallows down another shot, her face twisting with just as much disgust as the first time.
Throwing the final chicken tender into my mouth, I gather up our wrappers and dump them in the trash before walking over to her.
“This isn’t going to help, but I know what will,” I say, tugging the bottle of…sherry—gross—from her grip and walking out of the room with it.
I go straight to the bathroom and begin running the bath. I search the small cupboard for a very different kind of bottle before pouring a generous amount of bubble bath into the water.
Her light footsteps move closer; her curiosity too much to ignore. The very moment she steps into the doorway, a tingle of awareness runs down my spine.
“Kieran,” she whispers.
“Go and get ready. It won’t be long.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
Hanging my head for a beat, I push to my full height and walk over to her.
Wrapping my hand around her ponytail, I give her little choice but to look up at me.
Seeing her standing there at my mercy does weird things to me. But I quickly chastise myself. Now isn’t the time or the place.
“There isn’t much I can do to help right now. But I can do this. Relax, and I’ll make you something to drink that actually tastes nice and might help you sleep.”
Her eyes bounce between mine. They’re glassy and bloodshot, showing the pain that’s hiding behind them.
“Don’t leave,” she whispers.
A sad laugh spills from my lips.
“Who said anything about leaving?”
“You’re mad at me,” she says, attempting to break our connection, but I force her eyes to return to mine.
“Yeah,” I agree. “I am. But that will never stop me from caring or wanting the best for you.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“No, what you don’t deserve is all this shit. You deserve the world. And,” I say, reaching for her right hand, “if a man ever proposes to you with a ring like this—” I tug it from her finger. “Then I’ll fucking end him. Is this even a diamond?”
She shakes her head. “I grabbed it at the store. It’s?—”
“Not worthy of you. Effie,” I whisper with every intention of following it up with something, but the words die.
Her bottom lip trembles, and I kick myself for upsetting her, but everything I just said is true.
Sliding my hand to the side of her neck, I drag my thumb along the line of her jaw.
My heart pounds harder in my chest as I think about the man who is one day going to ask her to be his wife.
That feeling from earlier returns.
“Give me two minutes to finish this off,” I say, forcing myself to take a step back from her and passing her ring back.
“O-Okay.”
Slowly, she backs away and disappears down the hallway, leaving me standing in the middle of the bathroom.
What the fuck was that?