Page 25 of By His Play

“I’m sorry,” Kieran whispers after long, silent seconds.

Shaking my head, I look up at him through my lashes. “Not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

He smiles sadly.

“Are you hungry?”

I think for a moment. I should be—it’s been hours since our breakfast—but I’m not. “No.”

“Effie,” he warns.

“I know, I know. It’s just…” I look at Grams, and my stomach tumbles again.

How can I sit here and eat like everything is okay?

“You can go and get something,” I offer.

He scoots forward in his chair, his eyes holding mine.

“I will, if you promise to eat something.”

Just the thought of food makes me feel sick, but he’s right, so I nod anyway.

“Any requests?” he asks as he stands.

“No, whatever you want is great. Can you get me an?—”

“Iced coffee?” he finishes for me. He knows me too well.

“Yeah.”

“You got it. Be good while I’m gone.”

He leaves the room, the sound of his heavy footsteps drifting away, and everything instantly gets harder.

I don’t think I really appreciated just how lonely and heartbreaking this entire situation is. His support and friendship since he got here has made it all so much easier.

He’ll be back, I tell myself.

But it does little to lessen the pain.

Ripping my eyes from the door, I focus on Grams once again. Her eyes are closed, her face soft and peaceful as her chest rises and falls gently. Her breathing is rattly; I can hear it from here, reminding me that all is not well.

I sink lower in the chair and just watch her, silently praying for a different outcome but knowing it’s impossible.

Soon, I’m going to have to return to normal life. To Chicago, my job, my apartment.

But as much as I might miss normality, I’m nowhere near ready to deal with everything that needs to happen to get me there.

Aware that I need to let my father know what’s happening, I pull my cell from my purse and wake it up.

I scan my emails. There are five from Jasmine that I need to read and deal with, but they can wait. I also have a message from Brax, Kieran’s teammate, checking in to make sure I’m okay. I appreciate the hell out of his friendship and concern but I ignore it for now and pull up my chat thread with my father.

A bitter laugh tumbles from my lips as I take in the stream of one-way messages.

I add another to the long list, letting him know that she’s declining.

I’ve been updating him every week on Grams’ condition. He never replies. And on the rare occasion he does, I know it’s his assistant who’s sent it.

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