Page 123 of In the Shadows
“Shower,” he said. “Then food. Then bed.”
“Is that an order?”
“It’s a suggestion from someone who loves you and just saw the adrenaline leave your body. You’re going to crash in about twenty minutes.”
He was right. She could already feel it—the bone-deep fatigue moving in behind the release, settling into her legs, her arms, the muscles in her face that had been tightly clenched since the jury foreman stood up.
She took his hand. Let him lead her down the hallway to the bathroom. The shower ran hot, and he washed her hair while she stood under the water with her eyes closed, too tired to do anything but lean against his chest.
“Ronan.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad you were there today.”
His hands stilled in her hair. Water ran between them, warm and steady.
“There is nowhere else I would have been.”
She turned in his arms. Looked up at him through the steam. His lashes were dark with water, his face softer than she’d ever seen it—the face of a man who had fought other people’s battles for twelve years and was only now learning what it felt like to fight his own.
“Ask me how I feel again,” she said.
“How do you feel?”
“Like something just ended.” She pressed her palm flat against his chest. “And like something else is starting.”
He covered her hand with his. The water drummed against the tile. The steam rose.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That sounds about right.”
She was asleep before her hair dried.
Ronan pulled the quilt up over her shoulders and stood in the doorway of their bedroom, watching her breathe. The gray dress was on the bathroom floor. The broken mug was swept into the trash. The cottage was quiet except for the frogs outside and the tick of the kitchen clock.
He thought about the courtroom. About the jury foreman reading the verdict in a voice that shook slightly on the word guilty. About Lila’s face when Warren looked at her—or rather, looked through her—and the steel it took to hold that gaze and not flinch.
He thought about the drive home. Her hand in his across the console. The silence that wasn’t empty but full—full of everything she’d carried for five years, finally set down.
He picked up his phone. One message from Caleb.
It’s done. You did good.
Ronan set the phone on the counter and went back to the bedroom. He lay down beside Lila, careful not to wake her. She shifted in her sleep, her hand finding his chest the way it always did—seeking the heartbeat, the proof that someone was there.
He covered her hand with his.
Outside, the inlet was still. The stars were out. Somewhere down the shore, a night heron called once and went silent.
It was over.
Whatever came next, it would be theirs to build. Not in shadows. Not in secret. In the open, in the light, with nothing left to hide.
He closed his eyes and let himself rest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Three weeks after the verdict, Lila filed her paperwork for the town council race.
