SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Somewhere safe

Maeve's Point of View

The laughter was still echoing from the hallway when the weight of the evening started to settle over me like a slow-creeping fog.

Hughie had half-fallen asleep in the armchair, drooling into a cushion.
A girl was muttering something about absolute lunatics while trying to fish crisps out of her hoodie pocket.

But I wasn't listening anymore.
My focus had shifted.

Because I'd glanced at the time on Johnny's watch – and it hit me all at once.

It was late.
Past-late.
Too late.

And the thought of heading back to that house, to him, was sitting in my stomach like a lead weight.
My chest tightened.
My body was already bracing.
Muscles coiled.
Jaw tight.

I could see it in my head before I even stood up.

The outside light flickering.
The uneven stairs.
The sound of the door creaking open.
The dread that always pooled in my throat the second I turned the key.

The smell of whiskey.
The tension in the hallway.
The way everything in that house was just slightly off – like the walls were always waiting to close in.

And him.
Teddy Lynch.

I could hear his voice already.
Slurred or sharp – it didn't matter which.
The effect was the same.
Always the same.
Always violent in some way, even when his hands stayed in his pockets.

Where the hell have you been?
Slutting around with those rich schoolboys, are you?
Think you're better than us now?
Ungrateful cunt.

I clenched my jaw before the thoughts could spiral further.

I didn't want to go back.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.

But tonight especially.

I didn't trust the way his temper had been building lately.
The way his mood shifted like a storm cloud about to split open.
The last time I'd come home after dark, he'd thrown a plate at the wall – just barely missing my head.

I swallowed hard and stared down at my boots.

I couldn't go back.
Not tonight.

The idea of walking through that door, pretending I hadn't been laughing hours ago, pretending I hadn't felt okay for once?

It made me want to vomit.

I needed to say something.
Needed a plan.
But the words stuck in my throat.

I didn't want to ask.
I didn't want to need anyone.

But I was running out of time.
Out of options.
My eyes drifted toward Johnny.

He hadn't said much since the romcom war ended.
Just sat there, drinking from a bottle of water, offering that subtle kind of presence that made me feel like maybe the world wasn't so sharp around the edges.

I hesitated.
I hated how much I fucking hesitated.

He turned slightly, giving me his full attention like he'd felt the shift in my energy.

"You okay?" He asked, low enough that no one else could hear.

I nodded.
Lied.
Then shook my head. "I should probably head off soon."

Something in his jaw flexed.

"You want me to walk you to the bus stop?"

I hesitated again.