Page 152 of Only Be Mine

The car felt smaller on the way home.

Not physically - Trevor drove the same speed, kept the same distance from the cars ahead - but something about the space between us had tightened. The air pressed closer. Every sound seemed louder than it had been an hour ago.

The click of the turn signal.

The hum of the engine.

My own breathing.

Downtown slipped past the window in familiar fragments - coffee shops, crosswalks, people going about their afternoons like nothing fundamental had shifted. Like a man hadn’t just been confirmed dead. Like my life hadn’t quietly tilted off its axis.

Trevor reached over at a red light and rested his hand on my thigh. Warm. Steady.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I think so.”

It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

The rest of the drive passed without conversation. Trevor didn’t fill the silence the way he usually did. He let it stretch, like he was giving me room to breathe.

Or time to settle.

When we pulled into the driveway, he parked and cut the engine, then turned toward me fully.

“Before we go inside,” he said gently, “I want to check in.”

My chest tightened slightly. “About what?”

“About today,” he said. “About how that felt for you.”

I thought about the interview room. The table. The way Trevor’s voice had slid so easily into the spaces where mine hesitated.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It was… a lot.”

He nodded, unsurprised. “That makes sense.”

We sat there for a moment longer before he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to my temple.

“I’m proud of you,” he murmured.

Pride. Approval. Words that landed warm and heavy all at once.

Inside, the house greeted us the same way it always did, with low lights and everything tucked neatly in its place. Trevor hung up his jacket, loosened his tie, slipped seamlessly back into the role of normalcy like it hadn’t been interrupted.

“Do you want tea?” he asked. “Or water?”

“Water’s fine.”

He filled a glass and handed it to me, watching until I took a sip.

“Good,” he said. “Hydration helps with shock.”

Shock. That was an understatement…

I sat on the couch, curling my legs beneath me, while Trevor moved around the kitchen. He didn’t hover this time. Didn’t steer. Just… existed nearby.

After a few minutes, he joined me, leaving a careful inch of space between us.