61. Chapter 61
Cate
Present
The door opened like it had every right to.
Trevor stepped inside with the same controlled ease he brought to everything, his jacket draped over one arm, keys already disappearing into his pocket, his expression composed in that way that always made me feel like I was the one being unreasonable for having feelings.
His gaze landed on Seth first.
A flicker, barely there, then gone.
“Hey,” Trevor said, voice warm enough to pass for normal. “Didn’t expect company.”
Seth didn’t move from the edge of the couch. His posture was calm, but his eyes were sharp, the way they got when he was keeping himself on a leash.
“Cate called me,” he said evenly.
Trevor’s attention slid to me.
Only then did he seem to notice the phone in my hand. The way my shoulders were tight. The way my breathing wasn’t.
He smiled anyway, small and polished.
“You okay?” he asked, like it was an easy question with an easy answer.
On the phone, Detective Marshal was still waiting.
My silence stretched just long enough to become its own kind of answer.
Trevor took another step into the room, slower now. Not cautious.
Calculated.
“Who’s on the phone?” he asked.
I swallowed, throat tight. “Detective Marshal,” I said.
Trevor’s face didn’t change, at least not in the ways most people’s faces would. No shock. No panic. No visible crack.
But something in his eyes hardened, just for a beat, like a door quietly locking.
“On speaker?” he asked.
“No,” I lied automatically.
Seth’s gaze snapped to me because the lie was obvious. Because the phone’s tiny glow was angled outward. Because Marshal’s voice had just been too clearly heard.
“Ms. Larkin?” Marshal said, the words filtered but unmistakable. “Are you still there?”
Trevor’s jaw flexed once.
Ms. Larkin.
He looked at me like the name had been a slap across the face.
“Cate,” he said softly, and the softness didn’t make it gentler. It made it sharper. “What are you doing?”
I stared at him.
The man who had planned our honeymoon down to the minute. The man who had corrected the detective with my married name. The man who’d said together like it was a promise.
And all I could think was, I didn’t tell him I was calling.
He hadn’t been part of the decision.
Which meant this, this moment, was mine.
Seth spoke before I could. “She’s talking to the detective. Alone.”
Trevor’s eyes cut to him. “That’s not your call.”
“No,” Seth agreed, voice cool as ice. “It’s hers.”
Trevor’s gaze slid back to me.
He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t step closer. Didn’t do anything dramatic.
He didn’t have to.
His presence filled the room anyway, neat and clean and pressurized.
“Cate,” he said again, quieter. “Give me the phone.”
The words hit my body before they hit my mind, my fingers tightening around the edges, my shoulders pulling inward, my chest shrinking like it expected there to be consequences.
Then something else happened.
A small spark, quiet but undeniable, pressed up through all that conditioning.
No.
Not because I didn’t love him.
Not because I wasn’t afraid.
But because I was tired of being handled.
I lifted the phone slightly, closer to my mouth.
“Detective,” I said, my voice steadying as it left me. “I’m here.”
Trevor’s eyes narrowed, not angry - yet.
Marshal’s voice sharpened on the line. “Ms. Larkin, are you safe right now?”
Trevor’s lips pressed into a thin line at the name again.
I looked straight at him when I answered.
“I’m… not alone,” I said carefully. “Seth is here.”
Trevor’s expression flashed with irritation, then smoothed.
“And your husband?” Marshal asked. “Is he there as well?”
Trevor’s gaze didn’t leave my face.
My pulse climbed.
Seth held his breath.
I could feel it; the way one honest sentence would change the air forever.
I could also feel Trevor waiting - quietly daring me to choose the version of the story he preferred.
I swallowed. “Yes,” I said. “He just got home.”
Trevor exhaled, slow, like he’d been holding that breath without me noticing.
Marshal didn’t speak for a beat. When he did, his voice was calm, professional - too calm to be casual.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to ask you one more time, Ms. Larkin. Are you safe?”
Trevor’s eyes sharpened.
He took a step forward - still not aggressive, but the movement was enough to make my skin prickle.
“Detective,” Trevor said, cutting in smoothly, “this is Trevor Reeder. Cate is safe. I’m not sure why you’re asking her that.”
Marshal didn’t sound intimidated.
“Mr. Reeder,” he replied evenly. “I’m speaking to Ms. Larkin.”
Trevor’s mouth tightened. “Reeder,” he corrected. The word was polite. The intent underneath it wasn’t.
Then Marshal said, very calmly, “Understood.”
Not I’m sorry.
Not of course.
Just, understood.
Like he was taking note.
My stomach turned.
Trevor’s gaze snapped back to me, and this time I saw it, just a flash, the fear he’d been wearing as concern.
Not fear for me, but fear of losing the room. Fear of losing control.
I didn’t fully understand why, but my body recognized it anyway.
Marshal’s voice came again. “Ms. Larkin, I need you to answer without anyone speaking over you.”
Trevor’s eyes didn’t leave mine.
Seth’s voice was low, barely moving air. “Cate.”
Just my name. Not a direction. A reminder.
I drew in a breath.
The room was too quiet. Too clean. Too staged.
And suddenly I hated it.
“Yes,” I said, and my voice didn’t break. “I’m safe.”
Trevor’s shoulders loosened, just a fraction.
I watched it happen. Watched him accept the answer like it somehow belonged to him.
Then I added, slower and deliberate, “But I don’t feel… free to talk.”
Trevor went still.
Seth’s head lifted, sharp.
On the phone, Marshal didn’t react outwardly, but I heard the shift in his silence. Like a door opening.
“Thank you,” Marshal said softly. “That’s all I needed.”
Trevor’s face turned toward me in a way that was still gentle, still controlled, but no longer warm.
“Cate,” he said, voice quiet enough to pass for calm, “hang up.”
I didn’t.
My heart hammered in my throat, but I kept the phone clutched tightly in hand like it was a lifeline.
Marshal continued, voice steady. “Ms. Larkin, Cate, listen to me. If you can, I need you to leave the house. Now. Go somewhere public. A neighbor. A coffee shop. Anywhere you can be seen.”
Trevor’s jaw ticked.
He smiled then. A real smile would’ve reached his eyes.
This one didn’t.
“Detective,” he said smoothly, “you’re being inappropriate.”
Marshal didn’t take the bait.
“Cate,” he said again, firm now. “Do you understand me?”
My mouth went dry.
I looked at Seth.
He was already shifting forward, subtle, ready. Not to fight Trevor, but to get me out.
Trevor watched the exchange like he was reading a script he didn’t like.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice full of quiet certainty. Like the statement alone should make it true.
My skin went cold.
He wasn’t saying it to threaten me, he was saying it because he believed it.
Because this house, this life, this version of me, had been arranged too carefully to allow a disruption.
And that’s exactly what this was.
Marshal’s voice cut through again. “Cate.”
I swallowed hard and forced my voice to work.
“I understand,” I whispered.
Trevor’s gaze sharpened.
“What did you just say?” he asked.
I didn’t answer him.
I spoke into the phone instead, louder this time, because the sound of my own voice was the only thing keeping me upright.
“Detective,” I said, “Seth is here. If I leave, I’m not leaving alone.”
Trevor’s smile vanished.
For the first time since he walked through the door, something in him moved fast and hot. A crack in his calm.
Not rage, not yet, but the pressure behind it.
“Cate,” he said, and my name sounded like a warning dressed as affection. “Hang. Up.”
Seth stood.
Trevor’s eyes snapped to him.
The air tightened, electric, the way it does right before a storm hits.
And then, in the middle of all of it, my phone buzzed, another incoming call trying to cut through.
Unknown number.
Marshal’s voice was still on the line, urgent now. “Cate, do not…”
The unknown call kept buzzing, insistent.
Seth’s eyes flicked to my screen. “Answer it,” he said quickly. “It might be…”
Trevor moved, his hand reaching out fast and sure, like taking things from me was as natural as breathing.
And my body finally did something it hadn’t done in a long time.
I pulled the phone back.
“Don’t,” I said.
It wasn’t loud, but it landed.
Trevor froze, just for a beat, like he’d heard a language he didn’t expect me to know.
Then his eyes darkened, and he smiled again.
“Okay,” he said softly.
The word sounded gentle.
But nothing about it felt gentle anymore.