Page 74
Story: By His Play
“Effie?” he whispers.
I don’t want to look up.
Hell, I don’t want to be here, dealing with all of this.
But I don’t have any choice.
Woman up, Effie. Things could be worse.
“Ef—” His words are cut off when I finally look up.
My breath catches at the darkness in his eyes. The green that’s usually there has almost been engulfed by it.
“I’m okay,” I whisper weakly, proving that I’m very much not.
His smile is forced and sad.
I love that he’s here with me, but I also can’t help feeling like I’m holding him back from doing something better.
It’s the off-season. He could be on some exotic island spending his days with girls in bikinis and grass skirts. He could be doing charity projects, bringing in much-needed funds for the KC Foundation. Hell, he could just be at home, chilling out.
But no, he’s here wiping my tears and holding me together.
If he didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t be, a little voice says.
I blow out a long, slow breath as his eyes hold mine captive. Embarrassment stains my cheeks while my chest continues to ache.
As much as we need to deal with what happened this morning, I don’t have the energy or the brain power to even try.
His lips part and my stomach twists with anxiety, but before he manages to get a word out, another voice floats through the air.
“Good afternoon,” my father booms, his deep voice echoing around the modest entrance to the church.
Kieran’s jaw ticks with irritation before he pulls on a mask of his own and turns to face the two people who brought me into the world.
“Mom, Dad,” I greet through gritted teeth.
Neither of them says anything as they look me up and down with distaste.
“What on Earth are you wearing, Effie?” Mom chastises with her nose in the air like she’s something special.
“This is a funeral, not a tea party,” Dad snaps.
My natural reaction would be to slink away and let their comments weigh me down.
But today is different.
Today isn’t about me. And for once, it isn’t about them. It’s about Grams.
If she wanted me to turn up wearing a Teletubbies costume today, I’d have done it just to make her smile.
Holding my head high, I take a step forward.
“Grams specifically requested we all dress in bright colors. A request you both clearly ignored.”
As my father glowers at me and my mother’s mouth drops open in shock, Kieran steps up behind me.
His arm wraps around my back and his hand squeezes my waist in support.
I don’t want to look up.
Hell, I don’t want to be here, dealing with all of this.
But I don’t have any choice.
Woman up, Effie. Things could be worse.
“Ef—” His words are cut off when I finally look up.
My breath catches at the darkness in his eyes. The green that’s usually there has almost been engulfed by it.
“I’m okay,” I whisper weakly, proving that I’m very much not.
His smile is forced and sad.
I love that he’s here with me, but I also can’t help feeling like I’m holding him back from doing something better.
It’s the off-season. He could be on some exotic island spending his days with girls in bikinis and grass skirts. He could be doing charity projects, bringing in much-needed funds for the KC Foundation. Hell, he could just be at home, chilling out.
But no, he’s here wiping my tears and holding me together.
If he didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t be, a little voice says.
I blow out a long, slow breath as his eyes hold mine captive. Embarrassment stains my cheeks while my chest continues to ache.
As much as we need to deal with what happened this morning, I don’t have the energy or the brain power to even try.
His lips part and my stomach twists with anxiety, but before he manages to get a word out, another voice floats through the air.
“Good afternoon,” my father booms, his deep voice echoing around the modest entrance to the church.
Kieran’s jaw ticks with irritation before he pulls on a mask of his own and turns to face the two people who brought me into the world.
“Mom, Dad,” I greet through gritted teeth.
Neither of them says anything as they look me up and down with distaste.
“What on Earth are you wearing, Effie?” Mom chastises with her nose in the air like she’s something special.
“This is a funeral, not a tea party,” Dad snaps.
My natural reaction would be to slink away and let their comments weigh me down.
But today is different.
Today isn’t about me. And for once, it isn’t about them. It’s about Grams.
If she wanted me to turn up wearing a Teletubbies costume today, I’d have done it just to make her smile.
Holding my head high, I take a step forward.
“Grams specifically requested we all dress in bright colors. A request you both clearly ignored.”
As my father glowers at me and my mother’s mouth drops open in shock, Kieran steps up behind me.
His arm wraps around my back and his hand squeezes my waist in support.
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