SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Bad people, terrible feelings

Maeve's Point of View

I was still drying my hands on a towel when I stepped out of the bathroom, but something was off.

I hesitated in the hallway, fingers curling into the fabric of Johnny's borrowed towel before I forced myself forward.

The first thing I noticed was that they were gone.
Joey.
Gibsie.

Only Johnny remained, standing near the table, one hand wrapped around his mug, the other braced on his hip.
His head lifted slightly when he saw me, but he didn't say anything.

Didn't move.
Didn't breathe, almost.

Like he was bracing.
Like he was waiting.

I felt my stomach knot even tighter. "Where did Joey go?"

Johnny exhaled, setting his mug down with a dull thud. "Your uncle called."

That was all he needed to say.
I already knew.

Still, I asked. "What happened?"

"Your aunt. She lost the baby."

I blinked.

Something inside me stilled.

Not in shock.
Not in grief.
Not in horror.

I should have felt something.
I should have.

But all I felt was an overwhelming sense of relief.
And that?
That made me sick.

Because what kind of person feels relief when they hear about something like that?
What kind of person hears about a baby dying and feels like they can finally breathe again?

A selfish person.
A horrible person.
A person who had no right to be alive when others weren't.

My throat tightened, but I forced my face to stay blank, my voice to stay steady. "Where is he now?"

"With her."

Of course.
Because even in tragedy, he got to own her.
Even in loss, he got to control the way she suffered.

Another reason for her to stay.
Another excuse for him to tighten his grip.
Another mouth that would never need feeding.

I hated myself for thinking it.
But I hated him more.

I looked away, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "Okay."

Silence.
Thick.
Heavy.
Watching me.

I could feel Johnny's eyes on me.
I didn't know what he was looking for.
Or if he had already found it.

"I need to call Shannon." My voice came out thinner than I wanted. "I'll be back in a second."

I made it to his room before I let myself breathe.
Even then, it wasn't much of a breath.

Just enough to pull my cell phone out, press Shannon's number, and press it against my ear with trembling fingers.

It rang twice before she picked up. "Maeve?"

Her voice was thick.
Like she'd been crying.
Like she was still crying.

I swallowed. "Joey left. Teddy called. Marie." I hesitated, shifting my weight. "She lost the baby."

Silence.
Then, a sharp inhale.
And then, she sobbed.

Not quietly.
Not the way she did when she wanted no one to hear.

This was different.
This was gut-wrenching.
This was drowning.