Page 91 of In the Shadows
"Okay," she said. "Okay."
"Okay, what?"
"I don't know." She laughed, and it came out watery. "Just okay. To all of it. The house and the dock and the trial and whatever comes after. Okay."
He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "That's not very eloquent."
"I spent five years being eloquent. Writing careful notes and building careful cases and choosing every word so nobody would suspect what I was really doing." She shook her head. "I'm tired of being careful. I just want to be here. With you. Building something that doesn't have to be perfect."
"The dock's definitely not going to be perfect."
"Good." She took his hand again, lacing her fingers through his. "Perfect is overrated."
Later, after dinner, they sat on the porch and watched the sunset turn the inlet to copper.
The frogs had started their evening chorus. Somewhere across the water, a fish jumped. The stripped-down dock cast long shadows across the grass, a promise of work still to be done.
"I talked to Caleb today," Ronan said. "The separation's official. I'm out."
Lila looked at him. "How do you feel?"
"Like I don't know who I am without a mission." He turned his beer bottle in his hands. "Like I'm standing on the edge of something I can't see the bottom of."
"That sounds terrifying."
"It is." He met her eyes. "But I'd rather be terrified here than certain anywhere else."
She didn't say anything. Just shifted closer to him on the porch swing, her bare feet tucked under her, her shoulder warm against his arm.
The sun dropped below the tree line. The sky went purple, then gray. The first stars appeared, faint at first, then brighter as the darkness deepened.
"When my father died," Lila said into the quiet, "I thought I'd never feel safe again. Like the world had proven it wasn't trustworthy, and I'd be stupid to ever forget that."
"And now?"
"Now I think safety isn't about what might happen. It's about who's there when it does." She turned her head to look at him. "You're here. That's enough."
Ronan thought about all the places he'd been. All the missions. All the close calls and narrow escapes and nights spent sleeping with one eye open because trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.
This was different. This was choosing to stay in one place, with one person, and believing it was worth the risk.
"I have something for you," he said.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. Not a ring—not yet, maybe not for a while. Just a key, brass and ordinary, cut that afternoon at the hardware store while Sid was loading lumber into his truck.
"To the house," he said. "If you want it."
She took the key. Turned it over in her palm. Looked at him with an expression he couldn't quite read.
"You're asking me to move in with you."
"I'm asking you to have a place here. Your place. For when you want it." He took a breath. "I know it's fast. I know we've only known each other?—"
"Nine weeks."
"Nine weeks. Which is nothing. Which is crazy. Which is?—"
"Yes."
