Maddy

My laughter fades with my smile, diminishing into a frown, as my eyes settle on the person stepping into the pub. My friends around me continue their banter, but none of it breaks through the pounding in my ears. My hand tightens on my pint to the point that I'm afraid I'm going to shatter the glass.

As much as I want to, I'm unable to turn my gaze away from the boy - no, man - stepping into the room. The dim glow from the open fire and the dull lights darken the room, but I can see his every feature as if it were a sunny day. He looks different, smarter. The time in the city has rubbed off on him, and he's no longer the scruffy farmboy I used to know.

He's still wearing his favourite cap. Worn around the peak and faded so much from the sun, it almost looks pink.

Removing his cap, he spreads his fingers and runs them through his shaggy hair, shaking the loose strands off his face. Gone is the boy who used to refuse to take his cap off inside. Here is a man with a defined jaw and dark eyes that roam the room like a predator.

My fingers twitch, remembering what it felt like to run my fingers through his hair. The way his eyes would droop at the sensation.

He glances around the room, his eyes settling on our table. Wanting desperately to avoid his gaze, I fidget and drop my eyes to the table, following the lines and cracks in the worn wood.

I sigh and shake my head, leaning into Menna beside me. "Is he coming over?" I relax my grip and run my thumb up and down the condensation as Menna searches the room, trying to catch up with my mood.

"Yeah," she says softly. I don't have to look at her to know sympathy is warping her eyes. "At least he's sitting on the other end of the table."

As much as I want to turn to Jason, I keep my gaze low. I want to check how else he's changed in our time apart. I want to trace my fingers over his body. I want to yell at him and punch him in the chest.

"Fuck this." I shake my head again. I can't keep my anger down any longer. If I don't leave, I'm going to explode and it's going to fire across the table at Jason, loud enough for the entire room to hear. I down the last of my cider and give Menna a meaningful look I hope she interprets.

When she reaches out to grip my arm, I hold back my sigh and sarcastic comment. "Men, I need to leave."

She nods and slides off the bench to allow me out. I weave my way through the room as fast as I can. In my haste to escape, I march into a chair and yelp out as it begins to tumble to the floor. I growl with frustration, right the chair, and storm out of the pub into the dark, chilled evening.

I slow to a stop as my lungs suck in a large breath of clean country air. A small hint of fertiliser catches in my throat, but it doesn't ruin the fresh sea air calming my mood. Closing my eyes, I let the cool night return my body temperature to normal as I tug on my coat, leaving the zip open.

"Maddy."

I flinch at Menna's voice behind me. I should've expected her to follow me. Part of me just wants to slump in the nearest field and let the grief of my past wash over me until there's nothing left. But no, I have responsibilities that will stop me from breaking down.

I turn to Menna. In the darkness, I can't see her face, but the lamp on the side of the pub behind her illuminates mine. It doesn't stop me from settling the frown, which still hasn't changed since I saw Jason.

"You okay?"

I huff a few times and walk in a circle as I decide whether to tell Menna the truth. That Jason still has an unreasonable hold on me. That he can still flip my mood in an instant.

Because I'm still mad at him.

I've spent years telling everyone around me that I was okay with what Jason did to me. But I've been lying to everyone for so long, I believed it myself. I genuinely thought that when I finally saw him again, I'd be able to cope. I didn't think he would make my blood boil or make me want to scream.

"Maddy?"

I turn back to Menna and open my mouth, unsure what I'm about to say, but I shake my head. "No. I don't think I am. I thought I could do this, but I can't. I can't sit in there pretending everything is okay between us. I'm too worked up to enjoy it now." I wipe my face and tilt my head back to look at the stars. I always used to find the stars calming, but Jason ruined that too.

He was the one who taught me the names of all the constellations. Lying on the beach with him creating shapes out of the stars were some of my favourite memories. And now they're forever tainted by his lies and betrayal.

"I can't go back in there."

"No one is making you. I just came to make sure you're okay."

"Yeah. Think I'm just going to head home." I turn a complete circle looking for my car. My hands pat down all my pockets as I look for my keys before my eyes settle on my sister's car. She has a farmer's market stall in the morning so she offered to drive us, but it makes storming away from my problems so much harder.

"Want me to go grab Jo or her keys?" Menna steps beside me, staring at the same car.

I shake my head. "I'll be fine. Stay here. I don't want to bring anyone else into this." I don't want anyone else to find out I've been lying to them for the last two years. "The walk'll do me good anyway." The thought of walking home, alone with my thoughts and memories, makes me clam up. But I'm not going to pull anyone else away from tonight.

"Alright. Message me." Menna turns for a hug and squeezes me with a surprising tightness. There's something about Menna's hugs that always seem to fix a small part of me.

The walk home, as expected, is full of memories, tears, and frustration. I unintentionally relive my entire life with Jason and when I arrive home, I'm even more frustrated than when I left the pub.

I'm home before my sister, but the challenge begins when the kitchen light shines through the small window in the front of the farmhouse.

I'll never make it past Mum or Dad unscathed if either is camped out in the kitchen. Perhaps they left the light on when they last returned to the living room.

Just in case, I creep open the front door to find them both in the kitchen. They don't seem to hear me step into the mudroom, so I click the door closed as quietly as I can and sink into the shadows.

"Maddy?" Mum's confusion flutters across her face as she squints through the open door. "Is that you?"

I rub my eyes, hoping that when I emerge, the evidence of the last hour isn't written all over my face. Choosing not to expose myself, I turn and kick off my boots. "Yeah, it's me."

"You're back earlier than I expected," Dad comments. There's no curiosity or concern in his voice like there was in Mum's.

"Mhm." I hang up my coat and, tucking my chin into my shoulder, push through the kitchen.

"Where's Jo?" Mum picks up a mixing bowl from the table to place into the dishwasher. I don't turn my head away from the wall, but direct my eyes to her movement.

"Still at the pub." I don't know what else I could've replied with, but Mum seems to know there's something wrong. She straightens, the bowl still in her hand, and turns to me.

"Madds?" Concern distorts her voice and cuts through me.

"What?"

"What's wrong? What happened?" At the corner of my eye, I see her flip her head between me and Dad. "Did something happen on the way home?"

At this, Dad pushes his chair out. It scapes painfully across the burgundy tiles and he hovers, unsure what to do now he's stood up.

"Nothing happened. I'm fine."

"Why didn't Josie bring you home?" Dad's tone has knocked down a few notches. The concern that wasn't there before, clear as day.

"I left early. I didn't want her to have to leave early too." I grip the door handle, too eager to leave, when Mum lays her hand on my arm.

"Was it that bad?"

"It was fine. I'm fine. It was fine," I spit, my tone getting increasingly more aggressive.

"Alright." Used to my mood swings usually stemming from lack of sleep, humour replaces the concern in Dad's voice as he tucks the chair in. "We get it. You're fine. But just watch your tone, Madds. Your mum is only trying to see if you're okay."

I sigh and turn back to the two of them. I should be more grateful. Thankful that I have parents who care, but I've had enough of living in their space. I've had enough of them always being in my business. I get the freedom to do as I please without question, but neither of them seems to understand that sometimes, just sometimes, I want to be left alone.

But another thing Jason ruined, I can't afford to move out.

I open my mouth to apologise, but my chest is still burning. Frustration is still causing my arms to quiver and I don't think I have an apology in me. Not yet, at least. It's just going to be more yelling at them because I need some way to get this out, but I just don't know how.

"Jason's home." My sister's gentle voice fills the silence and my opportunity to continue to brush past this has gone. All of my will seems to seep out of me through my feet, leaving me raw and vulnerable as Mum looks at me with sympathy.

It's worse than the concern.

"I thought you two were all right now."

Josie steps further into the room. "I don't think they ever spoke and cleared the air for Maddy to be okay about what happened."

I stare at Josie with caution, curiosity pinching at the edges of my mind. I never told her, or anyone, what happened, but I wouldn't be surprised if she'd figured out it was more than just him leaving that left me in the slump for months afterwards.

Apparently, years afterwards.

Mum shuffles around the kitchen, doing what she does best, and grabs the kettle. "Sit down. Have a cup of tea." She rests the kettle on the draining board and places a tin on the table. Dad reaches over to open the tin of homemade flapjacks.

"I'm good thanks." I'm defeated. I don't want to sit here with the whole family and talk about my feelings. I want to curl up in bed with my dog. "I'm just gonna..." I turn and wave a lazy hand towards the rest of the house when my eyes catch the bottle of whiskey on top of the fridge. It calls out my name and I'm in front of it, reaching out for the bottle before I know what I'm doing.

Not caring about my audience, I pop out the cork and lift the bottle to my lips.

Mum's hand tugs back the bottle and holds out a tumbler. I take the glass and pour roughly a double size and, avoiding whatever expression is filling Mum's face, neck the lot in one go. The burn soothes something at least and heats me like a fire from the inside out, giving me some of that courage I lost.

I turn to face the three of them with a held breath. "Where's Meg? I'm going out to check on my sheep." Without waiting for an answer, I push open the door and call for my dog. She bounds down the stairs and does several circles of excitement before sitting eagerly waiting for my command. I don't say anything to her, afraid her comfort will tip me over the edge. Instead, I storm back out of the kitchen ignoring Mum's soft words suggesting I stay for a tea before going out.

When Dad tells me he'll come with me, I yell no at the wall, grab my wellies and stomp out of the house still in my socks. The gravel cuts into my feet but I don't care. I don't mind that the pain is numbing my thoughts a little.

Sensing my mood, Meg stays beside me instead of running the circles I know she would probably rather be doing. I pull on my wellies and stare into the darkness. I refuse to go back in for my head torch, so feel around my jeans for my phone. That too is in my coat pocket.

I glance at the house, but it's no use. I rest my hand on Meg's back and trust her to get me to the barn I share with Josie. As soon as the dark swallows us, I'm consumed by my thoughts again. I force myself to focus on Meg's guidance, letting each action consume my entire mind.

I fumble across the bench, cursing Josie's inability to keep everything in the same place no matter how much I tidy up. When my fingers caress the cold metal of the torch, I light up the barn and settle my eyes on the two ewes occupying the space.

Meg sits by my feet, leaning against my legs. Her tail flicks around the dirt impatiently.

I head across the barn, keeping my gaze locked on one ewe. As a first-time mum, it worries me that I think she's carrying triplets. With shaking hands, I check her over. She's showing no signs of stress or labour, but that doesn't help the reason I have tears stream down my face.

As if on its own accord, my torch turns to my other ewe not in lamb this season. It's been two years and I just can't bring myself to get rid of her.

I turn off the torch to plunge us into darkness so I don't have to look at her any more. She's a perfect reminder of the life I had with Jason. The life we built.

I feel almost winded as I sink to the ground. The cold from the concrete seeps through my jeans in seconds.

I don't have it in me to care. I don't have it in me to get up and check on the rest of my sheep this evening. It's an easy job. Should be an easy job, but if I can't handle seeing the one sheep in here, I don't know how I'm going to face the few hiding between mine. The ones that belong to Jason.

Not tonight.

Meg's whines echo through the darkness as she drops her head onto my thigh.

With my fingers buried deep in her fur, the tears fall harder. I lean over her and press my face to the back of her neck.

"I know, Meg. I miss him too."