Page 184 of Only Be Mine

Yes. Dozens of men had that ring.

But not this one. Not with these initials. Not with this scratch near the crest from when he’d slammed his hand into a door frame during a fight with Seth their junior year.

I traced the mark with my thumb, remembering the way they’d regaled me with the story.

Memory doesn’t lie about texture.

My pulse began to pound.

Why would Trevor have this?

Not displayed.

Not mentioned.

Not in a memory box from my old things.

But in his desk.

Loose.

Like something he’d taken out recently.

Like something he’d been holding on to.

My mind tried to rearrange it.

Make it make sense!

Maybe he found it somewhere.

Maybe someone gave it to him, maybe it was from the old evidence file I knew he'd been looking into, though he hadn't said as much.

Maybe…

I stood abruptly, the chair rolling back a few inches.

The house suddenly felt different.

Not curated, not controlled.

Observed.

I looked toward the doorway half expecting Trevor to be standing there already.

He wasn’t.

The silence stretched.

I stared down at the ring again.

This wasn’t proof.

It wasn’t confession.

It was a question.

A dangerous one.