All In Good Time, page 19
Derek wasn’t sure if his heart rate slowed or rapidly increased at the sound of her name, but the change in his composure was probably noticeable. Ms. Roylance tightened her brow. He hated that name as much as he craved to hear it—his body recoiled.
Putting on a steady face was useless now, but he was grasping at straws in front of his lone audience. “Why would I want to talk to her?” he asked, spitting the words.
Caught off guard, Ms. Roylance’s lips formed a surprised “O” and her brows rose. “I apologize, I was under the impression you two were in a relationship. It seemed like you liked her.” Her sentence trailed off. Derek could hear the hidden meaning behind it, like she was screaming into his ear: I can see right through you—and I’m probably not the only one.
Exposed. Vulnerable. Weak.
You’re a fucking pussy.
There was nothing else to say. Less than half an hour, and she’d completely stripped him bare.
Fool.
Sighing, Ms. Roylance laced her fingers together around her knee. “I won’t talk to your dad—for now. If this keeps up, I’ll have no choice.” It was a blessing and a warning wrapped in one.
He swallowed, not feeling better at all. “Sure.” He stood up before she dismissed him, and turned to the door, rushed to escape.
“You know, my consultations are not only for when you’re in trouble, you’re welcome here whenever you want.” Her words followed him out the door, cut short as he closed it behind him harder than he meant to.
He wished the door closing would be the end of it, but it was just a gateway into another problem.
Becca walked down the hallway, directly toward him. The only mercy being that she was looking down at the floor, not even aware that he stood straight ahead.
Derek’s chest burned—whether from holding his breath or something else, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to look further into it and risk her raising her gaze. If she did, she would see him standing pale-faced in front of the counselor’s door.
The dumb choice would be to leave the school and risk getting caught—furthering the trouble he was already in. Dumb choices were his specialty now, so he did what he did best and turned away from the office to the front doors before she noticed.
He let go of the breath that was burning in his lungs, but even after a deep inhale, the pain lingered like a steady flame.
29
July 1985 | Before
He remembered the exact day it hit him.
It was Becca’s seventeenth birthday—July 15th.
Hot, humid, sunny mid-July, and Derek was far, far away from the cool water of the community pool—unlike where he’d told everyone he would be. Hanging out at the mall was for little girls with pigtails and airheads like Marty Parr. But he wasn’t going from store to store to “hang out”—he was there on a very specific mission, and one he wanted to complete successfully on his own.
Becca had told him repeatedly not to worry about getting her a gift. She didn’t think it was fair, when she hadn’t known about his birthday until it was too late.
Derek disagreed. He thought she deserved every little thing she could get, and he wanted to be the one to give at least some of it to her.
However, the problem was that he had no idea how to pick out gifts, much less ones that could make a girl hug him in gratitude. So, he figured the best way to find the perfect thing was to go to a place that had everything—the mall. There had to be something somewhere.
And it took a long time.
Shirts didn’t have much of an impact. Plush bears were too cliché. A small little silver ring looked cute, and he could imagine he’d love how it would look on her, but it wasn’t her style.
Nothing connected to him the way it should to be worthy of her.
The last place he would have willingly gone into was the small candle shop tucked away in the corner. He paused outside the entrance and glanced between the store and the rest of his options—all behind him and all duds.
He sighed and rubbed his face.
The things he would do.
With a sigh, he reminded himself he wasn’t going into a place like this for himself. He was going for Becca, and that was all that mattered.
He stepped into the shop and walked through the short aisles lined with candles. The girl at the counter glanced up from her newspaper crossword, clearly bored by the lack of foot traffic the shop got. She raised a brow when she saw who it was.
Derek internally cringed when he recognized her. Cammy or Sammy or something from his math class.
She didn’t greet him, but her eyes followed him through the candles as he browsed, pretending she wasn’t staring.
He’d start hearing about it soon.
Derek Stokes buys himself candles. What could that possibly mean?
People would be asking him about it at his next shift, and maybe the rumors would still be going around at the start of the school year.
Whatever. There were too many candles to smell, and he’d promised he would pick up Becca and go for a drive in two hours. At this rate, he’d be late.
He wasn’t aware that candles had so many possible scents. Lemon, rose, pumpkin, and, strangely, linen.
None of them stood out to him, and after about twenty different scents, they started to meld together into a single unidentifiable concoction that was distinctly candle and nothing else.
Maybe this was another dead end, too many candles and none worth pursuing.
One more. He would try one more and leave.
He picked a pastel purple one, and read the name written across it—Lavender.
Twisting the lid off, he inhaled.
He’d smelled this before.
Waking in the mornings, driving in his car, late in the middle of the night, eating ice cream.
It was her. It was the scent he had smelled in any situation that Rebecca was a part of and that he had long since come to associate with the memories and moments of her.
He didn’t know it had a name.
It was perfect. Clearly, she loved this scent, because it followed her everywhere. Silly, but this was the perfect gift for her.
He took his findings and checked out with Candice—according to her nametag—placing two of the candles on the counter. She looked from him to the candles, then back at him, a single eyebrow raised.
He leaned against the surface and crooked a corner of his mouth up at her. “Put them in two different bags for me.”
She enjoyed the attention and tucked a piece of hair behind her. “Sure thing, Derek.”
He left the store satisfied with himself. Becca would be happy with anything he gifted her—she was that type of person—but the effort he’d put into finding her something she’d actually like would make it even better.
He leaned against the escalator railing, holding up his purchase, and took another look at the two bags, grinning in delight. He couldn’t wait to see her smile when she opened this. Of course, he would only be giving her one bag.
The other candle was for him. Silly, sure, but the thought of having something that smelled like her all the time in his room made him—
His grin fell, and halfway down the escalator, Derek was hit with the realization…like he was opening his eyes for the first time.
He loved her.
First it had been gratitude he felt. That quickly morphed into trust, then turned into an unfamiliar longing and nervousness, and all it took was a mall candle for him to realize he was madly, fantastically in love with this girl. Even if it was just her scent, he wanted to imagine she was with him, even when she wasn’t. He wanted it to wrap around him, to give him the comfort he had when she was there, the tenderness, the happiness.
God, he loved her. So much, it ached when she was away. So much, he saw her in the tiniest things around him. So much that, if there was a single person to have for the rest of his life, he would pick her without hesitation.
“Fuck.”
30
October 1985 | After
Picking up her old job at the theater was Marty’s idea. She’d quit after the summer, thinking that her time would be taken up with classes, studying, college applications, exams, and…other things.
Unfortunately, the main thing she had counted on filling all her free time was gone now, and she had a glaring vacancy for a much-needed diversion.
It took her all of five minutes to get the job back—being the valuable and reliable employee she was—and then she’d been in the theater after school three days a week and on the weekend for the past week. Scooping popcorn and filling sodas was never her ideal way of earning money, but it was easier having Nicole and Marty there to help distract her. They made everything else bearable.
“Let’s get something to eat.” Marty leaned against the counter as Becca wiped down the greasy outside of the popcorn machine to give her hands something to do during an early stall in customers.
She paused and shot him a disappointed look. “We just got here.”
“I haven’t eaten today.”
“Go grab a corn dog or something.”
“We’re obligated to take a lunch break. Come with me.”
She rolled her eyes and threw the dirty rag at him. He grimaced as it hit his uniform and fell to the ground. “And leave Nicole all alone?”
“First of all, that was disgusting,” he told her. “Second of all, it’s so slow she probably won’t get a single customer by the time we’re done. She’ll never know.”
The swinging door between the back room and the front counter opened to reveal Nicole glaring daggers at Marty. He jumped. “If you were any louder, Burger King might hear you and start on the whopper I’m sure you’re going to order.”
Shooting a quick, communicative “oh shit” look to Becca, he gave Nicole a sheepish smile. “Hey, Nicole. Whatcha doing?”
Becca scoffed and shook her head at him as she walked around the corner to make a show of picking up the rag he’d left on the ground.
“Oh, you know, just listening to my friend betray me behind my back.”
“I was going to grab you something too.”
“Mmhmm. I’m sure you were.” She didn’t sound sure. Nicole turned to Becca, who raised a brow at her look. “Make sure he pays for everything. I want a large combo, with Coke.”
Becca grinned and shifted into her customer service persona, her voice theatrically higher pitched. “Of course, ma’am.”
Becca grabbed Marty by the arm and pulled him along, not giving him time to process the sudden change. He didn’t resist, though, and she brought him after her toward the food court.
“You’re an idiot.” Becca laughed, still with her arm wrapped around his.
He frowned. “I swear she has super hearing.”
“Maybe whisper next time.”
He grumbled under his breath, and though she couldn’t hear what he said, she giggled as they turned the corner.
She didn’t see the security guard where he stood in a blind spot around a large pillar until she ran smack dab into the front of his uniform.
The collision caught her off guard and she stumbled back. If she hadn’t been holding onto Marty’s arm, she would have landed flat on her ass. Marty let out a collection of “whoas” and steadied her with a hand on her back.
An apology slipped out of her mouth before she completely reoriented. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you—”
The words stalled when she finally met the security guard’s eyes, and she froze. His gaze was familiar blue, with that graying mustache and hard-set stare. Marty wasn’t as quick to realize who it was, but eventually he did, which Becca could tell by the tensing of his biceps under her hand, where she squeezed him for steadiness.
A static interrupted her mind, and fear raised the hairs on the back of her neck and down her arms.
“Rebecca. I thought that was you.” Mark Stokes scanned her, pausing at the name tag attached to the deep red uniform. His words sounded conversational, friendly even, but the smile didn’t reach his cold eyes. “Do you work here?”
Anytime it came to Mark Stokes, she was frozen in her tracks. She had a hundred different escape routes in the shopping mall, yet it felt like she remained constrained to a box only large enough to stand in. “Yes.”
“I just got transferred here for security. I guess we’ll be seeing each other more often,” Mark said.
Becca’s blood ran cold. He watched her like a bug under a microscope, waiting for a reaction. She could see the way he focused on her face, searching for something. She held her breath and gave him nothing.
After a few seconds, his lips drooped slightly, as he finally acknowledged she wasn’t alone. Marty stood still, observing the uncomfortable interaction. Maybe a breath or a blink had caught Mark’s attention, because his eyes flicked to Marty. He looked over him the way he had Becca, starting at Becca’s hand holding onto Marty for support, then going to his nametag.
Mark’s eyebrow raised. “You’re the Parr boy, right?”
Marty nodded but didn’t say anything.
A spark lit in Mark’s eye, and Becca could have sworn she saw them flick to her before going back to Marty. “I hear you’re friends with my son, Derek.”
Becca felt the tingle of Marty turning to her in question, but she was too afraid to look away from Mark.
“We’re just classmates.”
“Just classmates, huh?”
Becca couldn’t explain how Mark’s triangular eye movements brought such terror over her. First to Marty, then to her hand on his arm, then finishing his focus on her. She connected the dots as quickly as he did.
“Interesting.”
She couldn’t feel Marty. She couldn’t feel the floor under her feet. She could barely see Mark. Her mind had shut down into a static, glaring red, warning sign. Nausea twisted in her stomach.
Derek had been found hiding at Marty’s house. And now here she was, clutching Marty like her life depended on it. That was no coincidence, and Mark now knew it. She had everything to do with what happened that week.
“I’ll let you kids get back to work.” He addressed it to both of them, but only looked at Becca. His heavy hand came up, landing on her shoulder the same way it had when he’d showed up to her house searching for Derek. He squeezed firmly, enough to be uncomfortable but not painful. Bile rose in her throat. “I’ll tell Derek you said hi, Rebecca.”
He left them there and continued on with his patrol.
Marty watched her, clearly unsure what to make of the entire interaction. She didn’t blame him. He knew only the surface of the story. He didn’t know what Mark Stokes did and what he had now confirmed for himself.
“Hey, you okay?” Marty said, but his voice was muffled by the ringing in her ears.
She dropped her hand and walked toward the closest restroom, waving him on weakly. “You go ahead and grab food. I’m not very hungry.”
“Becks,” he called, but she waved him off again and increased her pace as her stomach churned.
He couldn’t follow her into the restroom, and the heavy door slammed behind her.
Rushing into an open stall, Becca locked it and emptied her empty stomach into the toilet.
* * *
“What the hell, Derek?” Elaine Renfield hurried to tame her tousled hair as she clumsily followed Derek down the stairs of her house. His sudden departure left her fumbling to keep up. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ve got to get home.” A weak excuse, he knew, but he couldn’t drag it on any later. He glanced at the clock on the wall—an hour later than his father told him to be home. Good.
“We didn’t even do anything,” Elaine said, reaching out to catch his arm.
He paused as she pulled him to a stop on the stairs, and looked at her fingers sliding seductively over his skin.
Derek wasn’t fazed by the action, even though he so badly wanted to be. “I’m not in the mood.”
Her hand dropped once she realized it brought no reaction, and she glared at him. “Oh, okay. So you’re not in the mood to screw me, but you’re in the mood to beat the shit out of Scotty.” She rolled her eyes, the intense sarcasm as thick as honey. Her arms crossed over her chest. “What the hell is going on with you? You’re acting like a freak.”
Derek rolled his eyes and opened the front door. “And you’re acting like a bitch.”
He left through the front door in the wave of Elaine’s outraged protests, followed by a wake of curses and insults that flew right over his head.
He wished they would affect him. Make him mad, make him sad, make him something. Like the last few times he’d done this with some random girl, or when he fought Scotty and a few other nosy bastards—he felt nothing. Completely numb.
He’d been so afraid at first, so fucking angry. And then…nothing.
His dad beat the shit out of him the day he returned, and then nothing. Like it never even existed. Derek had spent his entire life walking on eggshells around his father, worried how he would react to the smallest things, and now—because of the men Sheriff Wade had driving by the house multiple times a day—nothing.
Right when he wanted to feel something, there was nothing to make him feel anything. Even his asshole father.
It only made him want to provoke Mark more—to get any reaction from the man. If that happened, then he could be upset at her for putting him in this situation. This home was as stable as a pane of glass. It was only a matter of time before it shattered and cut him bloody. The longer it lasted, the worse the fallout would be.
He slammed the car door shut as he slipped into the front seat. Sheriff Wade was the one who’d managed to get it back from Madison for him—another thing Rebecca had probably arranged.
He shook his head and lit a cigarette, trying his best to not think about her. The smoke cleared his mind, and he peeled away from the curb toward his house.
He blasted AC/DC and tapped at the steering wheel up until the moment he shut off his car in front of the house, announcing his arrival as best he could to the entire neighborhood. The more people he pissed off, the better.
Putting on a steady face was useless now, but he was grasping at straws in front of his lone audience. “Why would I want to talk to her?” he asked, spitting the words.
Caught off guard, Ms. Roylance’s lips formed a surprised “O” and her brows rose. “I apologize, I was under the impression you two were in a relationship. It seemed like you liked her.” Her sentence trailed off. Derek could hear the hidden meaning behind it, like she was screaming into his ear: I can see right through you—and I’m probably not the only one.
Exposed. Vulnerable. Weak.
You’re a fucking pussy.
There was nothing else to say. Less than half an hour, and she’d completely stripped him bare.
Fool.
Sighing, Ms. Roylance laced her fingers together around her knee. “I won’t talk to your dad—for now. If this keeps up, I’ll have no choice.” It was a blessing and a warning wrapped in one.
He swallowed, not feeling better at all. “Sure.” He stood up before she dismissed him, and turned to the door, rushed to escape.
“You know, my consultations are not only for when you’re in trouble, you’re welcome here whenever you want.” Her words followed him out the door, cut short as he closed it behind him harder than he meant to.
He wished the door closing would be the end of it, but it was just a gateway into another problem.
Becca walked down the hallway, directly toward him. The only mercy being that she was looking down at the floor, not even aware that he stood straight ahead.
Derek’s chest burned—whether from holding his breath or something else, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to look further into it and risk her raising her gaze. If she did, she would see him standing pale-faced in front of the counselor’s door.
The dumb choice would be to leave the school and risk getting caught—furthering the trouble he was already in. Dumb choices were his specialty now, so he did what he did best and turned away from the office to the front doors before she noticed.
He let go of the breath that was burning in his lungs, but even after a deep inhale, the pain lingered like a steady flame.
29
July 1985 | Before
He remembered the exact day it hit him.
It was Becca’s seventeenth birthday—July 15th.
Hot, humid, sunny mid-July, and Derek was far, far away from the cool water of the community pool—unlike where he’d told everyone he would be. Hanging out at the mall was for little girls with pigtails and airheads like Marty Parr. But he wasn’t going from store to store to “hang out”—he was there on a very specific mission, and one he wanted to complete successfully on his own.
Becca had told him repeatedly not to worry about getting her a gift. She didn’t think it was fair, when she hadn’t known about his birthday until it was too late.
Derek disagreed. He thought she deserved every little thing she could get, and he wanted to be the one to give at least some of it to her.
However, the problem was that he had no idea how to pick out gifts, much less ones that could make a girl hug him in gratitude. So, he figured the best way to find the perfect thing was to go to a place that had everything—the mall. There had to be something somewhere.
And it took a long time.
Shirts didn’t have much of an impact. Plush bears were too cliché. A small little silver ring looked cute, and he could imagine he’d love how it would look on her, but it wasn’t her style.
Nothing connected to him the way it should to be worthy of her.
The last place he would have willingly gone into was the small candle shop tucked away in the corner. He paused outside the entrance and glanced between the store and the rest of his options—all behind him and all duds.
He sighed and rubbed his face.
The things he would do.
With a sigh, he reminded himself he wasn’t going into a place like this for himself. He was going for Becca, and that was all that mattered.
He stepped into the shop and walked through the short aisles lined with candles. The girl at the counter glanced up from her newspaper crossword, clearly bored by the lack of foot traffic the shop got. She raised a brow when she saw who it was.
Derek internally cringed when he recognized her. Cammy or Sammy or something from his math class.
She didn’t greet him, but her eyes followed him through the candles as he browsed, pretending she wasn’t staring.
He’d start hearing about it soon.
Derek Stokes buys himself candles. What could that possibly mean?
People would be asking him about it at his next shift, and maybe the rumors would still be going around at the start of the school year.
Whatever. There were too many candles to smell, and he’d promised he would pick up Becca and go for a drive in two hours. At this rate, he’d be late.
He wasn’t aware that candles had so many possible scents. Lemon, rose, pumpkin, and, strangely, linen.
None of them stood out to him, and after about twenty different scents, they started to meld together into a single unidentifiable concoction that was distinctly candle and nothing else.
Maybe this was another dead end, too many candles and none worth pursuing.
One more. He would try one more and leave.
He picked a pastel purple one, and read the name written across it—Lavender.
Twisting the lid off, he inhaled.
He’d smelled this before.
Waking in the mornings, driving in his car, late in the middle of the night, eating ice cream.
It was her. It was the scent he had smelled in any situation that Rebecca was a part of and that he had long since come to associate with the memories and moments of her.
He didn’t know it had a name.
It was perfect. Clearly, she loved this scent, because it followed her everywhere. Silly, but this was the perfect gift for her.
He took his findings and checked out with Candice—according to her nametag—placing two of the candles on the counter. She looked from him to the candles, then back at him, a single eyebrow raised.
He leaned against the surface and crooked a corner of his mouth up at her. “Put them in two different bags for me.”
She enjoyed the attention and tucked a piece of hair behind her. “Sure thing, Derek.”
He left the store satisfied with himself. Becca would be happy with anything he gifted her—she was that type of person—but the effort he’d put into finding her something she’d actually like would make it even better.
He leaned against the escalator railing, holding up his purchase, and took another look at the two bags, grinning in delight. He couldn’t wait to see her smile when she opened this. Of course, he would only be giving her one bag.
The other candle was for him. Silly, sure, but the thought of having something that smelled like her all the time in his room made him—
His grin fell, and halfway down the escalator, Derek was hit with the realization…like he was opening his eyes for the first time.
He loved her.
First it had been gratitude he felt. That quickly morphed into trust, then turned into an unfamiliar longing and nervousness, and all it took was a mall candle for him to realize he was madly, fantastically in love with this girl. Even if it was just her scent, he wanted to imagine she was with him, even when she wasn’t. He wanted it to wrap around him, to give him the comfort he had when she was there, the tenderness, the happiness.
God, he loved her. So much, it ached when she was away. So much, he saw her in the tiniest things around him. So much that, if there was a single person to have for the rest of his life, he would pick her without hesitation.
“Fuck.”
30
October 1985 | After
Picking up her old job at the theater was Marty’s idea. She’d quit after the summer, thinking that her time would be taken up with classes, studying, college applications, exams, and…other things.
Unfortunately, the main thing she had counted on filling all her free time was gone now, and she had a glaring vacancy for a much-needed diversion.
It took her all of five minutes to get the job back—being the valuable and reliable employee she was—and then she’d been in the theater after school three days a week and on the weekend for the past week. Scooping popcorn and filling sodas was never her ideal way of earning money, but it was easier having Nicole and Marty there to help distract her. They made everything else bearable.
“Let’s get something to eat.” Marty leaned against the counter as Becca wiped down the greasy outside of the popcorn machine to give her hands something to do during an early stall in customers.
She paused and shot him a disappointed look. “We just got here.”
“I haven’t eaten today.”
“Go grab a corn dog or something.”
“We’re obligated to take a lunch break. Come with me.”
She rolled her eyes and threw the dirty rag at him. He grimaced as it hit his uniform and fell to the ground. “And leave Nicole all alone?”
“First of all, that was disgusting,” he told her. “Second of all, it’s so slow she probably won’t get a single customer by the time we’re done. She’ll never know.”
The swinging door between the back room and the front counter opened to reveal Nicole glaring daggers at Marty. He jumped. “If you were any louder, Burger King might hear you and start on the whopper I’m sure you’re going to order.”
Shooting a quick, communicative “oh shit” look to Becca, he gave Nicole a sheepish smile. “Hey, Nicole. Whatcha doing?”
Becca scoffed and shook her head at him as she walked around the corner to make a show of picking up the rag he’d left on the ground.
“Oh, you know, just listening to my friend betray me behind my back.”
“I was going to grab you something too.”
“Mmhmm. I’m sure you were.” She didn’t sound sure. Nicole turned to Becca, who raised a brow at her look. “Make sure he pays for everything. I want a large combo, with Coke.”
Becca grinned and shifted into her customer service persona, her voice theatrically higher pitched. “Of course, ma’am.”
Becca grabbed Marty by the arm and pulled him along, not giving him time to process the sudden change. He didn’t resist, though, and she brought him after her toward the food court.
“You’re an idiot.” Becca laughed, still with her arm wrapped around his.
He frowned. “I swear she has super hearing.”
“Maybe whisper next time.”
He grumbled under his breath, and though she couldn’t hear what he said, she giggled as they turned the corner.
She didn’t see the security guard where he stood in a blind spot around a large pillar until she ran smack dab into the front of his uniform.
The collision caught her off guard and she stumbled back. If she hadn’t been holding onto Marty’s arm, she would have landed flat on her ass. Marty let out a collection of “whoas” and steadied her with a hand on her back.
An apology slipped out of her mouth before she completely reoriented. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you—”
The words stalled when she finally met the security guard’s eyes, and she froze. His gaze was familiar blue, with that graying mustache and hard-set stare. Marty wasn’t as quick to realize who it was, but eventually he did, which Becca could tell by the tensing of his biceps under her hand, where she squeezed him for steadiness.
A static interrupted her mind, and fear raised the hairs on the back of her neck and down her arms.
“Rebecca. I thought that was you.” Mark Stokes scanned her, pausing at the name tag attached to the deep red uniform. His words sounded conversational, friendly even, but the smile didn’t reach his cold eyes. “Do you work here?”
Anytime it came to Mark Stokes, she was frozen in her tracks. She had a hundred different escape routes in the shopping mall, yet it felt like she remained constrained to a box only large enough to stand in. “Yes.”
“I just got transferred here for security. I guess we’ll be seeing each other more often,” Mark said.
Becca’s blood ran cold. He watched her like a bug under a microscope, waiting for a reaction. She could see the way he focused on her face, searching for something. She held her breath and gave him nothing.
After a few seconds, his lips drooped slightly, as he finally acknowledged she wasn’t alone. Marty stood still, observing the uncomfortable interaction. Maybe a breath or a blink had caught Mark’s attention, because his eyes flicked to Marty. He looked over him the way he had Becca, starting at Becca’s hand holding onto Marty for support, then going to his nametag.
Mark’s eyebrow raised. “You’re the Parr boy, right?”
Marty nodded but didn’t say anything.
A spark lit in Mark’s eye, and Becca could have sworn she saw them flick to her before going back to Marty. “I hear you’re friends with my son, Derek.”
Becca felt the tingle of Marty turning to her in question, but she was too afraid to look away from Mark.
“We’re just classmates.”
“Just classmates, huh?”
Becca couldn’t explain how Mark’s triangular eye movements brought such terror over her. First to Marty, then to her hand on his arm, then finishing his focus on her. She connected the dots as quickly as he did.
“Interesting.”
She couldn’t feel Marty. She couldn’t feel the floor under her feet. She could barely see Mark. Her mind had shut down into a static, glaring red, warning sign. Nausea twisted in her stomach.
Derek had been found hiding at Marty’s house. And now here she was, clutching Marty like her life depended on it. That was no coincidence, and Mark now knew it. She had everything to do with what happened that week.
“I’ll let you kids get back to work.” He addressed it to both of them, but only looked at Becca. His heavy hand came up, landing on her shoulder the same way it had when he’d showed up to her house searching for Derek. He squeezed firmly, enough to be uncomfortable but not painful. Bile rose in her throat. “I’ll tell Derek you said hi, Rebecca.”
He left them there and continued on with his patrol.
Marty watched her, clearly unsure what to make of the entire interaction. She didn’t blame him. He knew only the surface of the story. He didn’t know what Mark Stokes did and what he had now confirmed for himself.
“Hey, you okay?” Marty said, but his voice was muffled by the ringing in her ears.
She dropped her hand and walked toward the closest restroom, waving him on weakly. “You go ahead and grab food. I’m not very hungry.”
“Becks,” he called, but she waved him off again and increased her pace as her stomach churned.
He couldn’t follow her into the restroom, and the heavy door slammed behind her.
Rushing into an open stall, Becca locked it and emptied her empty stomach into the toilet.
* * *
“What the hell, Derek?” Elaine Renfield hurried to tame her tousled hair as she clumsily followed Derek down the stairs of her house. His sudden departure left her fumbling to keep up. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ve got to get home.” A weak excuse, he knew, but he couldn’t drag it on any later. He glanced at the clock on the wall—an hour later than his father told him to be home. Good.
“We didn’t even do anything,” Elaine said, reaching out to catch his arm.
He paused as she pulled him to a stop on the stairs, and looked at her fingers sliding seductively over his skin.
Derek wasn’t fazed by the action, even though he so badly wanted to be. “I’m not in the mood.”
Her hand dropped once she realized it brought no reaction, and she glared at him. “Oh, okay. So you’re not in the mood to screw me, but you’re in the mood to beat the shit out of Scotty.” She rolled her eyes, the intense sarcasm as thick as honey. Her arms crossed over her chest. “What the hell is going on with you? You’re acting like a freak.”
Derek rolled his eyes and opened the front door. “And you’re acting like a bitch.”
He left through the front door in the wave of Elaine’s outraged protests, followed by a wake of curses and insults that flew right over his head.
He wished they would affect him. Make him mad, make him sad, make him something. Like the last few times he’d done this with some random girl, or when he fought Scotty and a few other nosy bastards—he felt nothing. Completely numb.
He’d been so afraid at first, so fucking angry. And then…nothing.
His dad beat the shit out of him the day he returned, and then nothing. Like it never even existed. Derek had spent his entire life walking on eggshells around his father, worried how he would react to the smallest things, and now—because of the men Sheriff Wade had driving by the house multiple times a day—nothing.
Right when he wanted to feel something, there was nothing to make him feel anything. Even his asshole father.
It only made him want to provoke Mark more—to get any reaction from the man. If that happened, then he could be upset at her for putting him in this situation. This home was as stable as a pane of glass. It was only a matter of time before it shattered and cut him bloody. The longer it lasted, the worse the fallout would be.
He slammed the car door shut as he slipped into the front seat. Sheriff Wade was the one who’d managed to get it back from Madison for him—another thing Rebecca had probably arranged.
He shook his head and lit a cigarette, trying his best to not think about her. The smoke cleared his mind, and he peeled away from the curb toward his house.
He blasted AC/DC and tapped at the steering wheel up until the moment he shut off his car in front of the house, announcing his arrival as best he could to the entire neighborhood. The more people he pissed off, the better.
