Page 27

She tells me it does, and I have to hope she’s telling the truth, because other than supplying her with copious amounts of iced coffee and attempting to feed her, I’m at a loss for what else to do.
As Grams gets worse, she refuses to leave her side. It takes everything I have to get her to come home at night.
I fear that if I weren’t here, she’d be living in the chair next to Grams’ bed, and that isn’t good for anyone.
For Effie to be here properly for Grams, she needs to look after herself first.
If only she’d listen…
Grams was awake last night, and although she was struggling, she was lucid. Effie wanted to make the most of it.
Since I’ve arrived, there have been very few times that she’s looked at us both and known who we are. I understand Effie wanting to savor the moment while she could.
But while she might have been lucid, she wasn’t entirely making sense, rambling about how we’ve made all her dreams come true.
As nice as that all was to hear, it was nicer still to see her and Effie interacting. Or at least, it was, until she slipped back to sleep and Effie fought her tears.
She’s trying to stay strong while we’re in Grams’ room, but it’s getting harder and harder as Grams slips away from her.
Every night, she’s been crying herself to sleep.
I feel like I’m losing a little more of my best friend despite the fact she’s right there in my arms, sobbing into my chest.
As always, I’m up with the sun. As quietly and as gently as I can, I roll out of bed and pad across Effie’s room.
When I came here, I didn’t have any intention of sleeping in my best friend’s bed. But every night, she’s been so sad I haven’t been able to leave her.
Even now, knowing that she could wake up alone pains me.
I just can’t stay lying there, staring up at the ceiling.
I have to move. My body and my mind crave it.
It can probably be said for most professional athletes—or at least it is for those that I know. Exercise is our therapy.
Everything feels wrong if I don’t get up and instantly start moving. Get my blood pumping and empty my mind.
After freshening up, I pull on a fresh t-shirt, some shorts, and my sneakers before popping my earbuds in. Leaving a note for Effie in case she wakes—not that I don’t expect her to know where I am; she’s not in the best frame of mind right now—I slip out of the house.
The morning air is fresh, but I welcome the chill on my skin as I take off down the street.
The sun is rising over the horizon, casting this town in a soft orange glow. It’s pretty, and I can totally understand why Grams made this place her home.
She had the means to move anywhere in the world. Effie’s parents might be selfish assholes, but they show they care with money. It’s the easiest option and a less risky way of showing affection when you’re rich beyond your wildest dreams, I guess.
But she never moved. Something tells me she never spent the money, either. I think in the coming weeks, Effie will probably discover that Grams is sitting on a fortune. Not that Effie has any interest in her parents’ wealth either. Much like me, she’d rather earn her own money and live her own life than be tied to them and their unrealistic expectations for her.
There is a job and life ready for her should she decide to pick up the phone and offer up her services. Not her services as a daughter; however, they’ve made it more than clear over the years that they’re not interested in that.
My feet hit the asphalt harder as I push myself to max speed. Anyone watching would probably think I’m running from something.
I guess I am.
Expectations.
All my life, Dad expected me to follow the path he wanted for me. Just like Effie’s parents did for her. It worked with my older brothers, Kingston and Kian. They toed the line and are now CEO and CFO of Callahan Enterprises.
Good for them. They both deserve it. They’ve worked their asses off to get where they have, and they’re kickass at their jobs.