Page 42 of Only Be Mine

No questions. No tension. No annoyed sigh that he’d have to share the week. No why would you invite a stranger? No we planned this.

Just okay.

Something in my chest loosened in a way that felt like relief and fear all wrapped together.

I smiled and kissed him, quick, and grateful. “Thank you.”

He shrugged like it was nothing, but his hand skimmed my waist, lingering like it wasn’t. “We’ll make it work.”

Downstairs, Baby barked once, as if she approved.

The drive up was warm and loud and easy. Windows down. Music up, Carlie Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe” blasting through the speakers. John sang off-key on purpose just to make me laugh, and Baby’s head hung out the window like she was smiling too, her ears flapping, tongue lolling.

At one point, John thumped the steering wheel to the beat and said, very seriously, “This song is a masterpiece.”

“It’s a crime,” I corrected, leaning over to steal a kiss at a stoplight.

He took it like it was his right.

When the road started to climb, the air changed. Cooler. Cleaner. Pine and sun-warmed earth. Baby sat up straighter like she could smell the lake before we even saw it.

When we pulled into the cabin lot, I hopped out first and stretched, breathing in the view like it was mine.

Because, in a way, it was.

Baby bounded out of the truck ahead of us, nose to the ground, tail wagging, already convinced this place belonged to her. John laughed and called after her, “Don’t go stealing somebody’s sandwich again, Beast.”

“She was framed,” I said.

“She was guilty,” he corrected, grabbing the cooler. “And she’s proud of it.”

Baby looked over her shoulder as if she understood and barked once.

I grinned.

A silver Toyota Camry pulled in a few minutes later, dust kicking up behind it. Amy stepped out first, her eyes going wide as she took in the trees, the lake glittering in the distance, the cabin nestled like it had been dropped into a postcard.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Wow.”

“Told you,” I said smugly, already moving toward her.

Jim got out next, tired and trying to look normal. And then Trevor.

He didn’t slam the door. Didn’t stomp. Didn’t glare. He moved like someone trying to take up as little space as possible. Shoulders slightly hunched. Hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes looked too sharp, like he’d slept in them wrong.

He didn’t look at me right away, and when he did, he just looked… lost.

Something in me tugged.

I walked over and offered a smile that was as real as I could make it. “Trevor?”

His gaze flicked up. He nodded once, like it cost him something. “Yeah.”

“I’m Cate.” I held out my hand.

He took it. His grip was weak. His skin was cold. Like he hadn’t been eating or drinking water or doing anything but surviving the last twenty-four hours.

“I’m glad you came,” I said, and meant it. “This week will be good for you. Fresh air. No… city noise.”