Page 108 of In the Shadows
But he was here now. In this yard, in this town, with this woman's hand in his. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, he didn't want to be anywhere else.
They counted down with everyone else—the traditional shouting, the champagne corks popping, the distant sound of fireworks from somewhere across town.
When the clock struck midnight, Lila turned to him.
"Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year."
She kissed him, quick and soft, and then pulled back with a look that was somewhere between hopeful and terrified.
"I've never started a year like this," she said. "With someone. In a way that felt like it might actually last."
"Neither have I."
"That's either very romantic or very sad."
"Probably both."
Around them, people were hugging and laughing and making the kinds of promises that midnight on New Year's Eve always seemed to inspire. Resolutions that would be forgotten by February. Commitments that would fade with the hangover.
Ronan didn't make resolutions. He'd learned a long time ago that promises to yourself were the easiest ones to break.
But standing in Sid and Grace's backyard, watching Lila smile at something Izzy had said, he found himself thinking about the future in a way he hadn't before. Not as a series of missions and objectives, but as something slower. Quieter. A life measured in ordinary days rather than operational timelines.
It terrified him.
It also felt like the only thing worth wanting.
They walked home along Beach Road, the sounds of the party fading behind them.
The night was cold for Florida—low forties, maybe—and Lila had borrowed one of Sid's jackets, the sleeves hanging past her fingertips. She looked younger in the dark, less burdened.
"I used to hate New Year's Eve," she said. "After my dad died, my mom went to the nursing home. Everyone is celebrating, making plans for the future, and I couldn't imagine one. A future, I mean. Everything just felt like—" She shrugged. "More of the same. More getting through. More surviving without actually living."
"And now?"
"Now I don't know." She kicked a pebble, watched it skitter across the pavement. "I can imagine a future. I just can't see it clearly. It's like looking through fog—shapes and outlines, but nothing solid."
"That's more than I could do six months ago."
"What could you see six months ago?"
"The next mission. That's it." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "My whole life was structured around objectives. Accomplish this, move to that. No gaps, no downtime. Because if I stopped moving?—"
"You'd have to think about what you were moving toward."
"Or whether I was moving toward anything at all."
They turned onto Lake Road. The cottage was visible through the trees, the porch light glowing, the Christmas tree still lit in the window. They'd have to take it down soon. The holidays were over.
"The hearing is in three days," Lila said. "Friday. Sarah thinks the judge will rule in our favor, but she's been wrong before."
"What do you think?"
"I think I've stopped trying to predict anything." She stopped walking and turned to face him. "But I want to testify. I want to look Warren Caldwell in the eye and tell him exactly what he took from me. And I want a jury to hold him accountable."
"Then that's what we work toward."
