SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Running on empty

Johnny's Point of View

Everything fucking hurt.
I exhaled sharply, pressing an ice pack to my groin, trying to numb the sharp ache radiating through my leg.
I shouldn't have trained this morning.

But it wasn't like I had a choice.
The Academy coaches had been on my back all week, watching me like they knew something was off.
Which, fair enough, because something was off.
I was slower.
Hesitating more.
That half-second delay when I changed direction wasn't going unnoticed anymore.
You're off the pace, Kavanagh. Sort it out.

So, I did what I always did. I pushed through.
Even when I was already running on empty.

Now I was paying for it.

I gritted my teeth, shifting slightly on the bench, but the pain flared up again, sharp and insistent, like it was mocking me for being a stubborn gobshite.

Fucking brilliant.

And then there was Maeve.

I leaned back, exhaling through my nose as I ran a hand down my face.
She was coming over in a few hours.
Again.

Only this time, we'd be alone.

My stomach twisted at the thought.

Last time, there'd been plenty of distractions – Gibsie being a pain in the arse, Feely and Hughie keeping things from getting too weird.
Maeve had still been guarded, but there had been moments—small moments—where she had let her guard slip.

But today?

No Gibsie.
No excuses.
Just her and me.

Things between us had gotten better.
She wasn't avoiding me anymore.
I didn't feel like I was constantly chasing her down just to have a conversation.

But she still didn't trust me.

Not fully.
And for some reason, that – that – was getting under my skin.
I wanted her to trust me.
Really trust me.

I wanted her to know that when she walked into my house today, she wasn't just showing up for some shite school project.

She was safe there.
She was safe with me.
And, fuck, I didn't even know why that mattered so much.
But it did.

By the time I got home, the pain in my leg had dulled to a steady throb – still there, still fucking annoying, but at least I could walk without wincing.

I dropped my gear bag by the stairs and rolled my shoulder, exhaling sharply as I glanced around the empty house.

Mam was in Dublin for work, probably drowning in fabric samples and sketches.
Da was likely in court, tearing some poor bastard's argument to shreds.
Ma told me she'd be back in Cork by next week, but I didn't have high hopes.

I ran a hand through my hair, heading straight for the kitchen.
I needed to set up, keep moving, do something before I overthought this entire thing.

Grabbing my bag from the hall, I pulled out my books and notes, laying them out neatly on the island.
She'd bring her own stuff, but at least this way, I wouldn't look completely useless.

Then, after a moment of hesitation, I went to the fridge.

Maeve didn't eat much around people.
I'd noticed that.
But she did drink tea.
And I'd seen her eat chocolate before, usually when she thought no one was paying attention.

So, I grabbed a few things.
Biscuits. Crisps. A Dairy Milk I'd picked up the other day. I set them on the counter, just in case.

I had no idea if she'd take anything.

But I wanted her to know she could.

I leaned against the counter, rolling my shoulder as I stared at the books laid out in front of me.
The plan was simple – get the project done, keep things easy, don't make it weird.

But Maeve had a way of making things complicated.

Half the time, I wasn't sure what version of her I was going to get.
The sharp-tongued, quick-witted girl who had no problem putting me in my place, or the closed-off one who barely let people close enough to see past the walls she had built around herself.

Lately, she'd been easier around me.
Less tense. But there was still distance.
Still something holding her back.
And I wanted to fix it.

I didn't even know why it mattered so much.
It wasn't like I went out of my way to get people to trust me.
Most people just did.

But Maeve Connor wasn't most people.

I ran a hand over my face, pushing off the counter.
Right. Enough thinking.

I still needed to shower and change before she got here.
The last thing I needed was to be limping around, looking like I'd been hit by a truck.

Dragging myself upstairs, I took off my clothes and stared at my bruised adductor.
Ah shite.

I turned on the shower, stepping under the hot water, letting the heat work out some of the tightness in my muscles.
I braced a hand against the wall, exhaling slowly.
I had about an hour before Maeve showed up.
Just enough time to pull myself together.