Page 212 of Only Be Mine

Watchful.

Trevor moved through it like nothing had shifted. Like our conversation had been a disagreement about finances instead of a confession about murder.

I stayed on the couch.

Still.

Measured.

Breathing shallow, careful breaths like too much air might count as resistance.

From the kitchen, I could hear the soft clink of glass.

Ice.

He was making a drink.

Of course he was.

He always made a drink when he needed to think.

The sound of liquid pouring was steady. Controlled. Almost soothing.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t reach for my phone.

Not because I didn’t want to.

But because Trevor would expect that.

And right now, the only thing keeping me safe was visible compliance.

He came back into the living room carrying two glasses.

He handed one to me and I accepted it, my fingers brushing his.

I didn't flinch.

He noticed.

He sat across from me this time, not beside me. Studying.

“You’ve talked to Seth,” he said calmly.

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“How much does he know?”

The glass felt too heavy in my hand.

“He knows what I know.”

“And what’s that?” Trevor asked.

The temperature in the room shifted by a degree.