Page 147 of Only Be Mine

Trevor returned with a bag in hand, already talking about traffic and timing and where we should park downtown.

I listened. I nodded when appropriate. I ate because he put food in front of me, just like I had ten years ago, when all of this started. When I could no longer be trusted to take care of myself.

Chapter 54

Cate

Present

We left the house with the kind of quiet that felt rehearsed.

Trevor locked the door behind us, the click of the deadbolt sharp in the afternoon air. He checked it once, then again, before turning toward the car like that small ritual mattered. Like it meant something.

The sun was too bright. The sky Colorado blue and unapologetic, the kind of day that made everything feel exposed. I paused on the front step longer than necessary, my chest tightening as I took it in - the street, the neighbors’ yards, the normalcy of it all.

Trevor noticed immediately.

“Hey,” he said gently, touching my elbow. “You good?”

“Yes,” I replied, too fast.

He didn’t call me on it. He just opened the passenger door and waited.

I slid into the seat and pulled the door shut. The interior smelled faintly of leather and coffee, familiar and controlled. Trevor adjusted the mirrors before starting the engine, his movements practiced, and unhurried.

“We’ll park in the garage,” he said as he backed out of the driveway. “It’s closer to the elevators. Less walking.”

“Okay.”

Traffic thickened as we headed downtown. Red lights. Crosswalks. Office buildings rising higher the closer we got, glass and steel reflecting the sky back at itself. I watched it all pass like I wasn’t part of it, like I was moving through someone else’s day.

Trevor filled the silence easily.

“Marshal’s office is on the third floor,” he said. “He’ll have us in a standard interview room, this isn’t an interrogation. That’s important.”

I nodded, though my stomach had begun to churn.

“If he asks anything you’re not comfortable answering, you look at me,” Trevor continued. “I’ll step in.”

“I can answer questions,” I said quietly.

“I know you can,” he replied. “This isn’t about capability. It’s about boundaries.”

Boundaries.

The word settled oddly in my chest.

We stopped at another red light. A pedestrian crossed in front of us, earbuds in, oblivious. Life moving forward without hesitation. I wondered when the last time had been that I’d crossed a street without thinking about where I was going - or why.

Trevor glanced over at me.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

I didn’t feel like I was doing anything at all.

The parking garage was dim and cool, the echo of tires against concrete loud in the enclosed space. Trevor chose a spot near the elevators like he’d planned it that way all along. When the engine cut off, the silence rushed in, heavy and immediate.

For a moment, neither of us moved.