76. Chapter 76
Cate
Present
Ididn’t sleep.
I lay beside Trevor in the dark and counted his breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Steady. Even. Unbothered.
At some point, his arm slid over my waist, instinctive and possessive. The weight of it pinned me more effectively than the deadbolt had.
I didn’t move.
If he noticed the tension in my body, he didn’t comment.
Morning came slow and gray.
Trevor woke before me, or pretended to.
He kissed my shoulder lightly, like nothing had shifted. Like we hadn’t stood on opposite sides of something irreversible just hours earlier.
“Morning,” he murmured.
My throat felt scraped raw. “Morning.”
He propped himself up on one elbow and studied me. “Better?”
It was such a gentle question.
Such a cruel one.
“I was just tired,” I said.
His eyes searched my face. Not for comfort.
For tells.
He smiled faintly. “That’s what I thought.”
He got out of bed and moved through his routine like a man who trusted the world completely - shower running, closet door sliding open, cufflinks aligned on the dresser.
Normal.
Every movement intentional.
I sat up slowly, testing the air.
The bedroom door was open.
The hallway quiet.
The house still.
Trevor reappeared in the doorway, his tie draped around his neck.
“Today’s important,” he said casually. “We need to be aligned.”
“I thought you had meetings,” I said carefully.
“I rescheduled.”
That wasn’t good.
He stepped closer, adjusting his tie in the mirror. “I need to know,” he continued, tone calm, “that we’re on the same page.”
I swallowed. “We are.”
“Are we?” His eyes met mine in the reflection.
He walked toward the nightstand and picked up my phone.
My heart stuttered.
He held it loosely. Not threatening.
Evaluating.
“You have missed calls.”
Of course I did.
Seth. Maybe Marshal.
I kept my face neutral. “I fell asleep.”
Trevor nodded once.
Then he handed the phone to me.
Unlocked.
I blinked.
He wasn’t confiscating it.
He was testing me.
“You can call him,” he said. “If that makes you feel better.”
The generosity in his tone was surgical.
I shook my head. “I don’t need to.”
He watched me for a moment, and when he was satisfied he smiled, “Good.”
He stepped closer again, fingers brushing my jaw lightly. “I don’t want you to feel trapped,” he murmured.
The word landed like a warning.
“I’m not,” I lied.
His thumb paused against my skin. “You flinch when I move too quickly,” he said quietly.
Heat rushed up my spine. “That’s not true.”
“It is.”
His voice didn’t rise.
It didn’t have to.
“I’ve given you everything,” he continued. “Stability. Protection. A future.”
I held his gaze. “I didn’t ask for protection,” I said carefully.
Something shifted behind his eyes.
Subtle, but real.
“No,” he agreed softly. “You didn’t.”
His hand dropped. “And look where that got you.”
The words sliced clean.
He stepped back before I could react. “We’re going to do something today,” he said, businesslike again. “Something proactive.”
My pulse ticked upward. “What?”
“You’re going to call Marshal. On speaker.”
Ice slid down my spine.
“And you’re going to tell him you were overwhelmed yesterday. That you misunderstood his tone. That you’re safe.”
It wasn’t a request.
It wasn’t even phrased like an order.
It was framed like logic.
“That’s not what happened,” I said.
Trevor’s head tilted slightly. “Isn’t it?”
He took a slow step toward me when I didn't respond.
“Cate,” he said, voice low and patient, “you’re grieving. Your emotions are heightened. That’s understandable.”
He stopped in front of me. “But you don’t get to destabilize our lives because of a feeling.”
John’s ring burned in my memory.
“You’re asking me to lie,” I said.
His expression softened almost pityingly. “I’m asking you to choose your marriage.”
The room felt smaller.
He leaned down slightly, close enough that I could see the faint pulse in his throat. “You said you trusted me.”
It was a statement, a test.
I forced my voice to remain steady. “I do.”
His eyes searched mine. “And I trust you,” he replied. “But trust requires loyalty.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He didn’t check it.
Didn’t break eye contact.
“I can’t fix this alone,” he said softly. “I need you with me.”
Not beside me.
With me.
On his side.
Against the world.
Against the truth.
My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could see it.
He stepped back at last.
“I’ll make coffee,” he said calmly. “Then we’ll make the call.”
He left the bedroom, and I sat very still on the edge of the bed, phone cold in my hand.
This wasn’t about fear anymore.
It wasn’t about grief.
It was about alignment.
Submission dressed as partnership.
I stood slowly and walked to the doorway.
From here, I could see him in the kitchen, measuring coffee grounds, pouring water carefully.
Everything was calculated. Controlled.
If I made that call, I would be choosing him.
If I didn’t…
I didn’t know what would happen.
But I knew this - Trevor wasn’t afraid of killing once.
He was afraid of losing, and I had just become a liability.
The coffee machine clicked on.
Steam rose.
He didn’t look up.
“Cate?” he called lightly.
“Yes?”
“You’re with me, right?”
The question floated through the house like something fragile.
I stepped into the hallway.
My voice didn’t shake when I said, “I’m right here.”
And for now, that was true.