Prologue

Effie

" Y ou've got this, K. Get out there and smash them. I'll be watching, I promise."

"I know. I just hate you not being here." I vividly picture the pout that's currently playing on his lips. But unlike usual, it doesn't make me laugh. Sure, he still might be being over dramatic and a drama queen, but I'll give him a free pass today.

He's playing in the conference championship. The final step to the Super Bowl. It's been his dream for as long as I've known him. And it's been a pretty long time at this point.

Memories of sixth grade, when we were put next to each other and forced to be lab partners, flicker through my mind.

All these years on, we're still the most unlikely of friends. It works, though. I like to think my presence in his life helps keep him grounded. Without me…hell knows what kind of situations he'd end up in. I mean…he's still wild. Always has been and always will be.

A bitter laugh threatens to escape. I'll never understand what he sees in me that has kept us connected all these years. Honestly, I've mostly given up thinking about it.

Kieran Callahan is an enigma that even I, as his best friend, can't figure out.

"You don't need me there," I assure him. "And anyway, I'll be screaming so loudly at the TV you'll probably hear me anyway."

"Maybe if we were at home. But out here…" he trails off.

His anxiety over the upcoming game is clear down the line.

He's not going into this game pumped for the win like he usually does. He's stressed and feeling the pressure. I hate that I can't fix it.

"Enough of the negativity, Callahan. You get your head out of your ass and go out there fighting. You're going to be the best goddamn running back on that field. You get out there and make sure every motherfucker watching knows it."

I cringe at my own pep talk. But sometimes, I've just got to swallow my pride and tell my best friend how it is.

He's the best football player I've ever known. Okay, so he may also be the only football player I've ever known, but he doesn't need to know that right now.

"I've got this," he says, a little hesitantly.

"It's just another game," I assure him. "I'm watching, your brothers are watching. And we'll all be there with you for the next one too."

He's silent for a moment. My nerves grow as I wait for what he's going to say next.

"We're gonna do it, Luck. We're gonna fucking do it."

"Hell yeah, you are. Now get out there and show them who's boss."

"You got it. I'll see you on the other side."

"I'm with you all the way," I promise.

We both pause for a beat before we simultaneously chant,"Three. Two. One. Win."

And then just like always, Kieran cuts the call.

I blow out a breath as I lower my cell to my chest and close my eyes, praying that he gets himself into the right headspace.

I give myself ten seconds before I force myself to look down again, and when I do, my eyes immediately lock on the ring on my finger.

My stomach knots, guilt rushing through my veins like poison.

It's okay , I tell myself.

He'll never know.

I'm just doing what I have to do.

Blowing out a long, slow stream of air, I tuck my cell into my pocket and walk toward the room I stepped out of only minutes ago.

The TV shows the build-up to the game and a mix of excitement and nerves flutters in my stomach as I think of Kieran in the locker room going through the rest of his pre-game ritual. I became a part of it junior year of high school. It was the last game of the season and he wanted to make a killer impression on their coach before embarking on his final year. They won that game by a mile, and he put it down to me. He has called me before every single game he's played since that day, without fail. And no matter where I am or what I'm doing— usually, I'm sitting either in the stadium or in front of a TV ready to watch—I take the call.

I'm sure it's a habit that many would say that I should have broken a long time ago. But I can't. It means too much to Kieran, and I love that I'm able to help him and be a part of his success.

I love watching his career go from strength to strength. He deserves it. He's an incredible player, and a wonderful person.

"Everything okay?" Grams asks the second she notices me lowering into the chair beside her.

I look over, relieved to see the usual sparkle in her eyes that I love so much. It's becoming less and less every day now.

Sadness tugs at my chest. Grams has been the one constant in my life. Well, apart from Kieran since the first week of sixth grade. The thought of losing her, of living a life without her terrifies me. But there isn't much I can do about it. Not only is her mind giving up, but her body is too. Every single second that passes is one less I get to spend with her.

It's why I'm not in San Francisco right now, supporting Kieran in person.

I hate that I'm not, but also, I couldn't leave Grams.

I fight the pained sigh that threatens. It's like my heart is being ripped in two with the need to be in both places at once.

But Grams needs me more right now. Kieran will have more games, and anyway, I'm watching, I'm supporting him, just…from a distance.

"Yeah, everything is great. Kieran is a little nervous."

"Well, that's to be expected. He'll want his fiancée by his side for big days like this," she says so confidently that I'd question her diagnosis if I didn't know better.

My stomach knots and my eyes drop to my ring again.

"Yeah," I muse.

"I just can't believe it…after all these years. I mean, I knew. That boy has loved you from the first day you met. But I never thought I'd see the day when he figured it out. I just want to be there on the big day."

A giant ball of emotion crawls up my throat. My nose itches and my eyes burn.

"You're going to make the most beautiful bride, Effie."

Pain shoots up my arms as I curl my fists, digging my nails into my palms in an attempt to distract myself.

"You'll be there," I choke out. "You're too stubborn not to be."

It's a lie.

She's not going to make it. And not just because of her declining health. But because all of this is fake.

Kieran friend zoned me a long time ago.

But what are you meant to do when your only grandmother's dying wish is for you to get engaged and marry the man of your dreams?

You give her exactly what she wants, knowing that it'll make her happy. Even if it rips your own heart to shreds at the same time…