50. Chapter 50
Cate
Present
The door clicked shut behind me, and the house settled into its familiar stillness.
Not the quiet of rest, the quiet of waiting.
I set my purse down slowly, like any sudden movement might crack something open inside me. The counter was exactly as I’d left it, the faint ring from the soda can, the towel folded neatly beside the sink.
And my phone.
It lay where I’d abandoned it, face down.
I stared at it longer than I meant to.
Yesterday replayed in my mind in fragments I didn’t ask for. The detective’s voice, steady and apologetic. Seth’s, tight with something he hadn’t wanted to name yet. Trevor’s hand at my back, guiding me away from it all.
I picked up the phone, and the screen lit up immediately.
6 new voicemails.
My throat closed.
I sat at the kitchen table before pressing anything, my palm flat against the cool surface, grounding myself. I needed to do this sitting down. I didn’t know why, I just knew.
I tapped the first message.
“Ms. Larkin, this is Detective Marshal again. I’m following up on the message I left.
I haven’t heard back from you, and I want to make sure you’re safe.
We need to speak in person as soon as possible to go over our findings and next steps.
Please call me today to arrange a time. You can reach me directly at this number. ”
The message ended with a soft click.
Make sure you’re safe.
I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the phone.
Next.
“Cate, it’s me. I came by yesterday and… Trevor was there. You left with him before I could say anything. I didn’t know what was going on, and you never called me back. Please call me as soon as you hear this. I need to know you’re okay.”
My chest ached at the sound of Seth’s voice - familiar, worried, and restrained in that way he only got when he was trying not to scare me.
I hadn’t meant to disappear.
I just… hadn’t been ready to come back yet.
I hit play on the next message.
“Cate, I’m getting worried. The detective called me again this morning. There are things he didn’t want to put on voicemail, and I don’t like what that usually means. Please don’t be alone right now. Call me. I’ll come to you.”
My hand trembled.
Don’t be alone.
I glanced around the kitchen, at the chair pulled out, the light humming softly overhead. I was alone. I had been since the moment Trevor’s car disappeared down the street.
The phone buzzed lightly as the next message queued up.
“Cate… listen to me. If you’re screening calls, I get it. But you need to hear this from someone who loves you. The detective said it was probably someone close. Those were his words. Someone. Close. I don’t know what that means yet. But I need you to call me. Now.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
No hum.
No movement.
No air.
Someone close.
The words echoed, hollow and heavy, but they didn’t hit me the way Seth probably feared they would. Not yet. They floated instead - unattached and unresolved because my mind couldn’t afford to let them anchor to anything solid.
Not when the truth already hurt this much.
I lowered the phone into my lap and stared at the floor.
John was gone.
Not missing.
Not misplaced.
Not waiting somewhere for me to catch up.
Gone.
A sound escaped me then, small and broken, and I pressed my knuckles to my mouth to keep it from becoming something louder, something I couldn’t pull back.
This was the moment.
Not the wedding.
Not the honeymoon.
Not the night I’d chosen Trevor and deluded myself into thinking surviving could equal love.
This.
This was where John became real again.
I stayed there for a long time, the phone dark in my hands, Seth’s last words circling like a warning I wasn’t ready to open yet.
Someone close.
I didn’t call anyone back.
Not because I was hiding.
But because if I spoke, if I let any of it out, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop.
I didn’t move right away.
The phone stayed in my hands long after the screen went dark, my thumb hovering uselessly where Seth’s name still felt warm. I told myself I’d call him in a minute. After I breathed. After my chest stopped aching like something was breaking apart inside it.
Time passed anyway.
The house felt different now - too quiet, too aware of me. I stood and wandered without purpose, fingers brushing over familiar surfaces. The back of a chair, the edge of the counter, the picture frame I’d never taken down. Everything looked the same. Everything felt wrong.
John was gone.
The words didn’t get easier the more I thought them. They didn’t soften or blur. They stayed sharp, cutting into everything I tried to think around them.
I drifted into the living room and sank onto the couch, curling my legs beneath me like I used to when I was trying to disappear into myself. My gaze landed on the window, on the pale afternoon light stretching across the floor.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I should do something.
Call Seth.
Call the detective.
Go back to Trevor’s house. Our house.
Instead, I sat.
Grief didn’t rush me. It settled. Heavy and patient, like it knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
I don’t know how long I stayed there before the sound came.
A knock.
Not loud or urgent, just firm enough to say, I’m here.
My breath caught.
The knock came again, louder this time.
I didn’t need to look through the window to know who it was.
Seth.
I stayed frozen on the couch, heart pounding, the weight of the last twenty-four hours pressing down on my shoulders. Part of me wanted to stay exactly where I was, to hold onto the quiet just a little longer.
The knock came a third time.
“Cate?” His voice carried through the door, careful. “I know you’re in there.”
I closed my eyes.
The waiting was over.