Page 35 of By His Play

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.

We 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.

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