Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 157

For My Family.

Conner

The night settles slowly. Music fades to hums and laughter, the kind that clings to the air long after the last song’s been played. The fairy lights outside the barn flicker like tired stars, and the field smells like summer, grass, smoke, pie, and rain that hasn’t fallen yet. Half the kids have gone to bed, while the other half are asleep where they sit. Naomi is stretched across a hay bale with Liam’s jacket over her, mumbling something about “never trusting cake portions again.” Nico’s arguing with Matteo about whiskey brands, and Ma’s fussing at Pa for smoking too close to the pie table. Sage is beside me, barefoot in the grass, her hand laced through mine. Het dress is a little wrinkled, the hem damp from dew, but she’s glowing. Not from the lights. From something deeper. She’s mine. My wife, I still can’t quite believe it. She’s watching Diego by the firepit; he’s half–asleep in one of Pa’s oversized wooden chairs, dinosaur tucked under his chin, his curls glinting orange in the firelight. Every few minutes, he jerks awake just long enough to giggle at something Ma says before drifting again.

Sage leans her head on my shoulder, voice soft. “He’s out.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Didn’t last long.”

She hums a little laugh. “He had a big day.”

“Big job,” I say. “Pulled off the most important mission of his life.”

She looks up at me, eyes glinting in the firelight. “Operation Wedding?”

*Operation Secret Mission,” I correct, mock serious. “Top clearance. Classified.”

Her laugh is low and quiet, the sound threading into the night. “You and your missions.”

“Hey,” I say, bumping her shoulder. “He was a damn good partner. Kept the secret better than most adults I know.”

“That’s because he’s loyal,” she murmurs, smiling at the sleeping boy. “He finally got what we all wanted.”

“What’s that?”

“Somewhere safe to land.”

I swallow hard. She says things like that without meaning to, drops truth like it’s nothing, and it hits me every time. The fire crackles and Ma, of course,

starts passing around mugs of hot cider.

The air’s cool now, full of smoke and laughter, and the stars have decided to show up for the party after all. Pa stands, clears his throat, and raises his glass.

“Alright,” he says, voice booming just enough to hush the noise. “If I could have everyone’s attention for one last thing before we all collapse.”

Sage nudges me, whispering, “He’s gonna cry,”

“Not before I do,” I mutter.

Pa waits until everyone’s quiet. “I’ve been on this earth long enough to see love take a lot of forms,” he begins. “Some burn quick and bright, some steady and slow, and some… well, some have to fight their way through hell to find a bit of light.”

He looks right at us. “But when they do, that light’s worth everything.”

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For My Family.

M B

Ma sniffles audibly beside him.

“So here’s to my boy and his ghost,” Pa says, grin tugging under his beard. “You two walked through fire and came out better for it. And you brought a little lad with you who’ll grow up knowing exactly what love looks like.”

He lifts his glass. “To Connor, to Sage, and to Diego

may your ghosts stay quiet, your love stay loud, and your family stay messy.”

Everyone raises their cups. “To the O’Neills!”

The sound rolls across the field, a wave of warmth that sinks right into my bones.

Sage wipes at her eyes, laughing softly. “Your father’s going to make me cry.”

I smile, reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s always been good at that.”

She turns her face into my hand, voice quiet. “It feels like it’s really over, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“All of it. The running. The hiding. The fighting just to breathe.”

I think about it, really think, and for the first time, I can’t find a reason to argue. “Yeah,” I say, voice rough. “It does.”

She nods, still watching the fire. “So what do we do now?”

I grin. “Live.”

She tilts her head toward me, smiling like that’s the most straightforward, most honest answer she’s ever heard.

“Live,” she repeats softly.

Later, when the fire burns low and the stars are scattered like salt across the black, Diego starts to stir. He blinks up at us, bleary–eyed, and mumbles, “Did

we win?”

Sage laughs, bending to brush his hair back. “Yeah, buddy. We won.”

He nods sleepily. “Good. ‘Cause I’m tired of missions.”

“Me too,” I admit.

He yawns, and before Sage can protest, I scoop him up; he’s all warm limbs and sleep–heavy weight, and I settle him between us on the old porch swing. He curls against her side, small hand still clutching his dinosaur. The swing creaks as it moves, the rhythm slow and lazy. The air smells like woodsmoke and rain, the faint buzz of the world turning somewhere far beyond this moment.

Sage leans into me, her head fitting perfectly under my chin. “You happy?” she murmurs,

I glance down at her, at Diego, at the way her wedding band catches the faint light from the fire. My chest aches with it, that quiet, unbearable kind of joy that feels too big to hold.

“Yeah,” I say, voice rough. “Yeah, I am.”

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For My Family

She hums, eyes already closing. “Good.”

The swing sways, the fire crackles, the night sighs around us.

I look out across the field, the same one that has seen so many years of hard work, love, laughter, tears and all. This is what we fought for. Not victory. Not vengeance. Just this. A soft night, a full heart, a small hand sleeping between ours. I don’t know if i’ll ever be a good man. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay away from the work that is bred into my family, but I know that I will always try to be a better man for these two people right here. For them, I’ll be an honest man, a loyal man, a hard–working man for my family.

We’ve finally found our peace, together.

The ghosts can rest now.

And so can I.

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