79. Chapter 79
Cate
Present
The siren wasn’t close, but it wasn’t far either.
Trevor heard it.
I watched the exact second he calculated the distance.
Three houses down.
Maybe four.
There was still time.
His smile didn’t disappear.
It changed.
Tightened.
Refocused.
“You called the police?” he asked Seth conversationally, like they were discussing the weather.
Seth didn’t blink. “No.”
That was technically true.
Trevor’s eyes flicked to me. “You did,” he said softly.
It wasn’t a question.
“I didn’t,” I said, and my voice held.
Because I hadn’t.
Because this escalation wasn’t mine.
Trevor studied my face, searching for cracks.
He didn’t find any.
The siren grew louder.
Not screaming.
Approaching.
Measured.
Trevor straightened, his posture shifting into something I’d seen a hundred times at charity events, business dinners, courtroom fundraisers.
Public mode.
Controlled.
Respectable.
“You’re overreacting,” he said to Seth mildly. “Again.”
Seth stepped closer to me without making it obvious. “I don’t think I am.”
Trevor’s jaw flexed once, then he looked at me. This time there was no warmth in his eyes, just assessment. “You could have told me,” he said quietly. “Instead of embarrassing me.”
My stomach twisted.
The siren cut off abruptly, and silence crashed in after it.
A car door slammed.
Trevor inhaled once, steady and stepped backward toward the door. “Come inside,” he said to me.
It wasn’t a shout; it was an expectation.
I hesitated.
A second siren wailed somewhere down the block.
That was enough. I stepped past him into the house and Seth followed.
The knock came moments later.
Firm.
Authoritative.
Trevor turned, smoothed his jacket, and opened the door before a second knock could land.
Detective Marshal stood on the porch and he wasn’t alone. Another officer lingered behind him.
“Mr. Reeder,” Marshal said evenly. “Good Evening.”
Trevor smiled like this was a surprise dinner guest. “Detective,” he replied. “This is unnecessary.”
Marshal’s gaze slid past him to me. “Ms. Larkin.”
Trevor stiffened at the name.
Marshal didn’t correct it.
“Are you safe?” he asked plainly.
Trevor laughed softly. “She’s fine. You’ve created drama out of thin air.”
Marshal didn’t look at him; he looked at me and the weight of the moment settled into my bones.
This was it, the pivot point.
If I said yes, everything stayed contained.
If I said no, everything detonated.
Trevor’s presence loomed at my side.
Not touching.
But close enough that I could feel the heat of him.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmured, low enough only I could hear. “You’re tired. You’re confused. They’re manipulating you.”
The word hit like a slap.
Manipulating.
The echo of the siren still rang in my ears.
Seth’s breathing was steady beside me.
Marshal waited.
No pressure.
No prompting.
Just space.
I looked at Trevor, really looked at him.
The man who had carried me when I couldn’t stand.
The man who had chosen my meals when I couldn’t decide.
The man who had locked doors while smiling.
He wasn’t shaking.
He wasn’t afraid.
He was annoyed.
At the inconvenience.
At the disruption.
At losing the room.
Something inside me went very still.
“No,” I said.
Trevor’s lips parted slightly.
Marshal’s gaze sharpened.
“No,” I repeated, stronger. “I don’t feel safe.”
Trevor didn’t explode.
That would have been easier.
He exhaled.
Slow.
Disappointed.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly.
Marshal stepped forward. “Mr. Reeder,” he said calmly, “I’m going to need you to take a step back.”
Trevor didn’t move.
For one stretched second, I thought he might refuse.
Then he stepped aside.
Graceful.
Cooperative.
The perfect husband under scrutiny.
Marshal addressed me directly. “Cate, I need you to come with us.”
Trevor’s eyes snapped to mine. “You don’t need to go anywhere,” he said evenly. “This is your home.”
The word home felt wrong now.
Like a set piece.
Seth’s hand hovered near my elbow, not touching unless invited.
My legs felt like glass.
But they held.
I stepped forward.
Past Trevor.
Across the threshold.
The air outside felt colder than before.
Real.
Behind me, Trevor’s voice followed, smooth as silk. “This isn’t over,” he said.
Not shouted.
Promised.
Marshal’s hand hovered at my back, careful not to touch unless necessary.
“Let’s go,” he said.
As we descended the porch steps, I heard Trevor exhale.
Measured.
Controlled.
Like this was just another inconvenience.
I didn’t look back, because if I did, I might remember the version of him who held me together. And that version was dead now.
Just like John.
The cruiser door opened and Marshal waited.
“Cate,” he said quietly, “I need to ask you something before we leave.”
I nodded.
He studied me carefully. “Did you find something?”
My breath caught.
He knew.
Not what, but that something had changed.
I swallowed, hard. “Yes.”
Marshal nodded once. “Good.”