Effa catches her, but I’m already moving, pumpkin and all.
“Kiera!” I call, rushing over.
She’s hunched, arms trembling, but smiling faintly. “I’m okay,” she says weakly. “Just… need some sugar.”
Gran checks her pulse. “You’re a little faint, sweetheart. Do you want to go home?”
“No. Let’s go to Kammie’s.” Kiera shakes her head. “Pie and soda. That’ll fix me.”
Gran gives me a nod, and I carry Kiera across the street. Effa trails behind, pale and shaken. Her eyes shimmer like she’s about to cry.
She wasn’t prepared for this.
I should have warned her.
Eased her into it.
Fuck. This is a lot for someone outside the fight.
Trying to calm her, I keep my voice steady. “Kiera, how’re you feeling now?”
“A little better. Sugar’ll sort me out.”
Effa exhales, the tension easing slightly from her shoulders. I place Kiera back on her feet, and she links her arm through mine as we enter the diner.
Kammie’s is packed, but Gran knows everyone. She’ll sort us out.
I sit Kiera down, Effa beside me. The place is pure retro chaos with pink and aqua everywhere, jukebox humming, and the milkshake bar packed. It’s a lot, but Kiera loves it.
“This place is amazing,” Effa says, removing her hat and shades, her voice laced with awe.
“It is,” Kiera agrees. “I used to come here all the time before…”
Before cancer.
Effa falters, unsure how to respond.
“When you get better, we’ll come again,” I say quickly.
“Yeah,” Kiera says. “Next time you two visit.”
“You betcha.” Effa smiles. “And I’m getting one of those insane milkshakes.” She nods toward a kid slurping a jug covered in cream, pretzels, Oreos, syrup, ice cream, you name it.
Kiera laughs. “That’s called the Heart Attack. And yeah, they’re epic.”
“They’re called the Heart Attack?” Effa laughs. “I love this town.”
Gran arrives with sodas. “Cream pie’s on the way,” she says.
“Thanks, Gran. How much do I owe you?” Effa asks.
Gran waves her off. “Nonsense. My treat.”
“You’re the best. But seriously, dinner’s on me next time.”
Gran squeezes her shoulder. “You’re a darling. But don’t worry about a thing.”
Just then, movement catches my eye, and a waitress heads toward us, tray of pie in hand.
