75. Chapter 75
Cate
Present
Trevor didn’t touch me again that night.
That almost made it worse.
He moved through the house like nothing had changed. He washed his hands, straightened the stack of mail on the counter, adjusted a picture frame that wasn’t crooked.
Normal.
Terrifyingly normal.
I stayed where I was until he looked at me.
“You should ice that,” he said, nodding toward my wrist.
“I’m fine,” I replied.
He studied me for a second too long.
“I know,” he said softly.
He walked into the kitchen, to the freezer anyway. I heard the crackle of ice, the methodical rhythm of it.
He returned with a towel wrapped neatly around a handful of cubes and held it out.
I hesitated for a moment, then took it.
He didn’t sit beside me this time. He chose the chair across from me instead, elbows on his knees, fingers laced loosely together.
Watching.
“I need clarity,” he said calmly. “And I need honesty.”
My throat tightened.
“Who all have you talked to?”
I kept my breathing even. “Seth.”
He nodded once. That wasn’t new.
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
Not technically a lie.
I hadn’t told Seth everything, and I hadn’t told Marshal about the ring.
Yet.
Trevor leaned back slightly.
Silence stretched between us, thin and humming.
Then he stood.
He walked toward me slowly.
Not rushed or angry.
Deliberate.
He reached down and lifted my hand, gently this time, and turned my wrist upward.
His fingers brushed the faint red imprint he’d left behind. “I hate that it came to that,” he said quietly.
His thumb traced the mark and my body went rigid.
He noticed.
“I’ve never hurt you before,” he said.
It wasn't a question, but a reminder.
“You know that.”
I nodded.
He leaned closer, his voice lowering. “I would never hurt you.”
The words hung between us.
And for the first time since this started, I understood something fully.
He believed that.
In his mind, control wasn’t harm.
Protection wasn’t imprisonment.
Love wasn’t ownership.
He straightened and released my wrist.
“Tomorrow,” he said, tone shifting back to practical, “we’re going to make a few calls. Together. We’ll smooth this out.”
Smooth it out… like it was paperwork. Like John’s murder was little more than an inconvenience.
My heart thudded hard against my ribs. “I want to talk to Marshal again,” I said carefully.
Trevor stilled. “Why?”
“Because I need to understand what they think they know.”
His gaze narrowed. “And you don’t trust me to tell you?”
The question was soft.
Dangerous.
I held his eyes. “I trust you.”
The lie burned.
He stepped closer again, close enough that I could feel his breath near my temple. “Good,” he murmured. “Because if you didn’t…”
He let the sentence trail off.
And that unfinished threat landed heavier than anything else tonight.
Then, almost casually, he walked to the front door.
My chest tightened.
He checked the deadbolt.
Turned it once. Slow. Deliberate.
Then he reached into the small dish by the entry table, the one where we always left our keys.
He picked up mine.
Not his.
Mine.
The metal glinted briefly under the light before he slipped them into his pocket.
I watched.
He saw me watching.
“For tonight,” he said evenly.
Like it was reasonable.
Like it was temporary.
Like it wasn’t exactly what it was.
My mouth went dry. “You think I’m going to leave?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Trevor’s expression softened again, almost affectionate. “I think you’re overwhelmed,” he said. “And overwhelmed people make impulsive decisions.”
He stepped closer one last time, brushing a kiss against my forehead.
The gesture was gentle.
Claiming.
“I can’t afford impulsive decisions right now,” he whispered, then he pulled away.
“Get some sleep,” he added. “We’ll handle this in the morning.”
He turned off the lights as he moved down the hallway.
One by one.
Until the house felt smaller.
Darker.
Contained.
I sat very still on the couch long after he disappeared into the bedroom.
As my wrist throbbed faintly beneath the melting ice, I let the truth settle fully into my bones…
I was not safe.
Not emotionally.
Not strategically.
Not physically.
Trevor didn’t think he would hurt me.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.
And somewhere outside this house, Seth was probably standing in the dark, staring at a phone that wouldn’t connect.