52. Chapter 52
Cate
Present
Trevor didn’t let the quiet settle.
The second Seth’s taillights disappeared from the front window, he turned the lock like it meant something. Like the click could keep the world out.
He came back to me in the kitchen, palms braced on the counter, eyes scanning my face as if he was taking inventory, checking for cracks.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“I’m not,” I lied automatically.
His mouth tightened in a way that wasn’t anger. Not yet. More like… focus.
“You don’t have to be brave in here,” he said, and he reached for my hand again, folding my fingers into his like he could steady the tremor out of me.
I let him, because I didn’t know what else to do with my hands.
“I want you to sit,” he said, guiding me to the chair like he’d been in this room a thousand times. Like it was ours in every way that mattered.
I sat.
He stood in front of me for a moment - close enough that the warmth of him filled my space - then he picked up my phone from the table.
“You said they left messages,” he said, casually. “Let’s call them back.”
My stomach tightened. “Right now?”
Trevor’s gaze flicked to mine. “Yes. Right now.”
There it was. The gentle certainty. The way he said things like they were already decided.
I swallowed. “Okay.”
He held the phone out. Not to give it to me, but to show me the screen. Detective Marshal’s voicemail number already highlighted in the call log.
“You want me to?” I asked.
Trevor’s thumb stroked over my knuckles once, slow. “I’ll start. You can take over whenever you want.”
It sounded like a gift, and relief coursed through me.
The ringing of the phone sounded too loud in the quiet house. Once. Twice.
Then a click.
“Detective Marshal.”
Trevor’s posture changed. Not dramatically, just a subtle straightening, a tightening around the eyes. Professional.
“Detective,” he said smoothly. “This is Trevor Reeder. I’m Catherine Reeder’s husband.”
I watched his face as he spoke, trying to read what I couldn’t hear. Trying to gauge whether my body was supposed to react, whether my chest was supposed to tighten, whether any of this was supposed to feel wrong.
It didn’t.
It felt like someone else taking the wheel while I stared out the window and tried not to throw up.
“I’m with her now,” Trevor continued. “She received your messages. We’d like to arrange a time to meet today.”
A pause.
Trevor nodded once, like he was agreeing with something reasonable. “Yes. She’s safe. She’s… understandably shaken.”
Another pause.
He glanced at me then, and his expression softened, careful and reassuring. The husband face.
“No,” he said into the phone. “I won’t let her do this alone.”
My throat tightened. I should’ve corrected him. Told him I could handle it.
But my tongue felt too heavy.
Trevor listened again, then said, “I understand your procedure. But I’m not leaving her side.”
He wasn’t raising his voice. He didn’t need to. He had that lawyer-calm way of making resistance feel impolite.
“I’d prefer to limit unnecessary stress on her today,” he continued evenly. “She’s just returned from travel, and this has all been… a lot.”
He listened.
His jaw worked, the muscle ticking once.
Then, barely perceptible, he adjusted.
“Downtown is fine,” he said calmly. “Two o’clock works.”
He smiled then. Not warmly, but satisfied. “We’ll be there.”
He ended the call and set the phone down carefully.
For a moment, he just stood there, breathing through his nose like he’d finished something unpleasant.
Then he looked at me. “Okay,” he said softly. “It’s set.”
The words should’ve made me feel better. Instead, panic darted through me, small and sharp, because now it was real. Now there was a time on the calendar. Now I couldn’t keep floating.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.
Trevor’s expression didn’t change. Not outwardly.
He came closer and crouched in front of me, hands settling on my knees. “You can,” he said. “And you will.”
It was meant to be encouraging. A pep talk.
But something about the certainty made my stomach roll.
He must have seen something flicker across my face, because his tone softened immediately.
“Hey,” he said, gentler. “Listen to me.”
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine for half a second.
“They’re going to ask questions. Some of them will be stupid. Some of them will be painful. None of them will change what happened.” His hands tightened around my knees like an anchor. “But you don’t have to go through it alone.”
I blinked hard, trying not to cry.
He kissed my forehead.
“You don’t even have to talk much,” he added. “I’ll handle the logistics. I’ll make sure they don’t bulldoze you. All you have to do is tell the truth.”
He stood, smoothing his shirt like he’d just finished a meeting instead of calling about…
I couldn’t finish the thought.
“First,” he said, “we need to get you out of here.”
Out of here.
Not home.
Just… out.
He glanced at the pile of things I’d half-packed in the corner, my old life reduced to cardboard and tape, and something sharp passed through his expression. Gone as fast as it came.
“We’ll go back to the house,” he said. “You can rest. I’ll order lunch. We’ll go over what to expect.”
I opened my mouth.
To argue, maybe.
To say I wanted a minute. To say I wanted to call Seth back. To say I didn’t want to be managed like one of his case files.
But the words didn’t come out.
Because part of me, loud and exhausted and terrified, wanted exactly what Trevor was offering.
A plan.
A path.
A way to keep moving so I didn’t have to feel the weight of standing still.
I picked up my purse with numb fingers.
“Trevor,” I said quietly, “should I… should I call Seth?”
Trevor didn’t hesitate. Not even a beat. “We’ll update him later,” he said, like it was obvious. “After we talk to Marshal. There’s no point in everyone spiraling at once.”
My stomach tightened again.
He smiled like he was soothing a child. “I’m not cutting you off, Cate. I’m protecting you from too many voices.”
Too many voices.
Too many truths.
I nodded anyway, because I didn’t know how to do anything else.
On the way out, I paused at the counter where my phone lay.
For a split second, I considered picking it up and calling Seth anyway. Letting his voice break through Trevor’s calm.
Trevor’s hand settled at the small of my back, like a reminder.
I took my phone, because I needed it now, and followed him out.
The front door locked behind us with that same definitive click.