Page 134 of Only Be Mine

“Cate,” he said gently, “I make more than enough for both of us. You don’t need to carry everything alone.” He brushed a strand of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Not anymore.”

The words wrapped around me, warm and reassuring. Sweet. Protective.

“I’ll call off,” I said finally. “Just for today.”

He smiled, satisfied but not triumphant. “Good.”

I borrowed his phone and called work, telling them I needed another day. They weren’t exactly happy, but let it go.

We showered together without rushing, shared a quiet breakfast at the counter, his hand resting at the small of my back as if it belonged there. When it came time to leave, he grabbed his keys without asking.

“Let’s take care of the townhouse first,” he said. “Then we’ll figure out the rest.”

As we pulled into the driveway, my chest tightened. The place looked exactly the same - ordinary siding, neat trim, a porch light that didn’t flicker. Like nothing inside it could possibly undo me.

But my body remembered.

Yesterday came back in sharp little flashes. The detective’s calm voice, soda spilling across the tile, Seth saying It’s real this time.

I slowed at the front steps, keys cold in my palm.

Trevor stayed close behind me, his hand hovering at my back like he could steady something fragile without touching it. “I can come in,” he offered, tone easy. “Help you grab what you need.”

I glanced at him. The sweet version. The husband version. The one I’d chosen last night with my eyes closed.

“I… I think I should do it alone,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Just for a minute.”

His smile held. Just barely. “Okay.” He nodded once, like he was filing it away. “I’ll give you space.”

Relief loosened something inside me. “Thank you.”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead, lingering a second longer than necessary. “Call me if you need anything.”

I swallowed. “I will.”

Trevor stepped back onto the porch and pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’m going to swing by the office for a couple hours,” he said, casual again. “Tie up loose ends. Then I’ll come back and we’ll tackle the rest together.”

Together.

“Okay,” I murmured.

He started down the walk, then paused and looked back. “Don’t push yourself,” he said, gentle. Protective. “Remember. You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I know,” I said, and meant it.

His car door shut with a solid click. The engine turned over. Tires crunched softly on the pavement, and then he was gone.

The silence he left behind felt different than the one at the house. Thicker. Older.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Chapter 49

John

May 10 - Ten Years Ago

Icame back to myself in pieces.