Page 8 of In the Shadows
"I'm not trying to scare you."
"You're doing a great job anyway."
He stopped walking. After a few steps, she stopped too, turning back to look at him.
"I'm trying to help," he said. "That's my job. Identify the risks so we can mitigate them."
"I know." She was silhouetted against the harbor, the sunlight catching the loose strands of her hair. "And I appreciate it, I really do. It's just—" She sighed. "I've been working on this for two years. Two years of planning and negotiating and convincing people that this celebration matters. And every time someone points out another thing that could go wrong, it feels like?—"
"Like the work isn't enough."
"Yeah. Exactly."
"The work is never enough. That's not a criticism of you—it's just reality. Bad things happen no matter how much you plan. All you can do is prepare for what you can anticipate and build flexibility into the system for what you can't."
"Is that from a textbook somewhere?"
"Experience."
She studied him for a long moment. The wind off the water pushed at her hair, her clothes. She didn't seem to notice.
"You're not what I expected," she said finally.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Clipboard. Checklist. That tone that security people use when they're telling you everything you've done wrong." She paused. "You actually seem like you're listening."
"I am listening."
"Most people don't."
"I'm not most people."
It came out more honest than he'd intended. More intimate. The kind of thing you said when you forgot you were playing a role.
Lila blinked. For a second, he thought she might call him on it—ask what he meant, push him to explain. Instead, she said, "The marina is this way. I should show you where the boat races start."
She turned and walked toward the water, and Ronan followed, grateful for the reprieve.
But he could feel it—the ground shifting beneath him. The careful boundaries he'd drawn around this mission were blurring at the edges.
She was supposed to be a resource. An access point.
She was not supposed to feel like a person he could talk to.
By the time they finished the tour, it was past one o'clock. Lila's phone had buzzed at least a dozen times, but she'd ignored every notification except one—a text that made her grimace and type a quick response.
"I have to get back," she said as they returned to the town square. "Budget meeting in twenty minutes. Very exciting stuff. You're welcome to join if you enjoy watching people argue about napkin costs."
"I'll pass."
"Wise choice." She hesitated, her hand on the strap of her bag. "This was helpful. Really. I know I complained a lot, but—it's good to have someone who takes this seriously."
"That's what I'm here for."
"Is it?" She tilted her head, studying him. "I haven't figured you out yet, Ronan Cross. But I will."
"Let me know when you do."
