Page 180 of Only Be Mine

Trevor’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “I just don’t want you retraumatizing yourself.”

“There it is,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

His brows drew together. “What?”

“That word,” I said quietly. “The way you talk about me, like… like I’m a case study. Like I’m something fragile you have to manage.”

Trevor’s expression softened again, fast and practiced. “That’s not what I meant.”

I nodded, slow. “I know.”

And I meant it. That was the worst part. I didn’t think he was doing it to be cruel.

I just wasn’t sure he knew any other way.

Trevor rubbed his palms together once, like he was steadying himself. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. We can talk about John.”

I waited, but he didn’t continue.

Seconds stretched. His gaze drifted, not away from me, but past me, toward the wall as if the right answer might be hanging there.

Finally, he spoke.

“They believe he was attacked,” Trevor said. “The day he disappeared. They believe it was… targeted.”

My throat tightened. “How?”

Trevor’s eyes flicked back to mine. “Cate.”

“Trevor,” I returned, voice quiet but firm. “Don’t do that. Don’t use my name like a stop sign.”

Something flashed behind his eyes - irritation, maybe. Or fear. Then gone almost immediately.

“They think it was personal,” he said instead. “They think it was someone who knew him.”

Someone close.

That phrase had followed me all day like a shadow.

“And what do you think?” I asked.

Trevor’s face was blank for half a second.

Then, with a sigh, he said, “I think the police like simple narratives. Close suspects. Clean motives. It makes them feel like they’re doing something.”

That was the first time he’d sounded like himself tonight. Not husband-soft. Not protective. Just… sharp. Like the lawyer he was.

I stared at him. “Why are you angry?”

“I’m not,” he said immediately.

I lifted my chin slightly. “Yes, you are.”

His nostrils flared. Another controlled inhale. Another careful recalibration.

“I’m angry that they’re dragging you through this,” he said, voice smooth again. “That’s all.”

I wanted to believe that. I really did.