Page 1 of All In Good Time
1
September 1985
“I’m sorry, Derek.”
He didn’t seem fazed as she said it. Instead, he just pinched his cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger. A stream of smoke slid up from his lips and past his nose. He looked at her only through the corner of his eye, so he probably couldn’t quite see the way her brows were furrowed in worry.
He pulled the stick away from his lips, licked them, then pulled it back. “Sorry about what?” There was no curiosity or concern in his voice; it was relaxed. She knew it took a lot to rattle him, and this wasn’t anything new. But that bubble of fear rose in her chest, because she knew once she said it, he wouldn’t act so careless.
She knew that he would be far, far more than worried. And it would be her fault.
Becca Lewis had run the words over and over in her mind, barely getting any sleep. Knowing that what she had done would mean a change in Derek’s life. Just a simple call would alter everything for him.
Logically, and perhaps emotionally, it was 100% the right thing to do. After everything he had said and everything she had seen, she knew this was necessary. But it hadn’t made her any less terrified to do it.
And it didn’t make her any less petrified to see how he would react.
“I had to do it.”
That piqued his interest, if only slightly. His brow raised, but his attention remained on the end of the cigarette, puffing in the corner of his mouth, as he pocketed his hands. His head rested against the brick wall behind him, his eyes fully on her. They squinted slightly.
“You can go a little faster, sweetheart. I’m not a quick learner, but you know I’m also not very patient. Get along with it. What did you do?”
She swallowed, once, twice, then the tears started to form. They pinched at the corners of her eyes, and she had to close them as she finally said it, wincing. “I had to tell them about your dad.”
Her eyes stayed shut for a few seconds, but unlike what she’d expected, there was only silence. She had expected him to curse and yell, punch a wall or something. Instead, nothing.
That alone made her open her eyes. She wished she hadn’t.
The cigarette was still in his mouth, but it was frozen. The smoke that had been seeping out seemed to stay in place, as if there was no air to move through. She might have thought time had stopped if it weren’t for the slow, disconnected blink of Derek’s blue eyes, or the stony, hard stare behind them. The same way he was when he showed up after a bad beating, with a purple bruise on his chin.
“Toldwho?” It was less a question and more a threat. There was a clip at the end of the sentence that cut into her.
A shudder ran down her shoulders, and it took everything in her to fight the urge to shake. “People who can help you, and Mal too.” She hadn’t planned to say much, expecting him to storm away before she could, so she hadn’t prepared a thorough explanation. Instead, hurried reasons flooded before she could think. “That place isn’t safe for you, and you know it. Jennifer obviously has no intention of helping, and I’ve seen how you leave that place. I’ve seen you, Derek, and I can’t stand by and watch you pretend you’re okay when you’re obviously not. It’s not normal, you know that, right? It’s not normal to leave your home with new bruises every single day, and—”
She was interrupted by a smaller sound. A light flutter on the ground as the cigarette fell from his lips and hit the dirt. He made no move to put it out. The white and red end continued to burn.
And he was on her, his hands on her shoulders. His eyes grew wide, rabid, blue, and ringed with red, which added to the insanity behind them.
Despite it, his grasp didn’t hurt, but it was firm. His fingers dug into her shoulders, and he towered over her. “Whatexactly did you tell them?”
He was cruel. Both to her and himself. She knew he already knew, but he was forcing both of them to relive the things never said aloud. Until now. “Derek—”
“What thefuckdid you tell them, Becca?”
She squeezed her eyes shut again. “I said that I know your dad beats you to the point of drawing blood. That your stepmom watches it happen, and that I watched him punch you right in front of me. That Mal is in just as much danger, if you aren’t around.”
The pressure on her shoulders disappeared, and she opened to a sight entirely new to her. She had seen Derek Stokes at his worst. Scared and sad and broken. Crumbled on the ground and shaking, bleeding from his lips or nose.
But she had never seen him like this.
His eyes shifted, and he grabbed at his hair, pulling at the dirty-blond curls. He mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear, but it sounded like the curses he had mumbled and screamed before.
The look in his light eyes, it wasn’t the stony or broken look she was used to when he was afraid. She knew he hid so much, and his eyes were the closest she would ever get to fully understanding it. But when she caught a glimpse of them now, it was like a dam had been broken and everything Derek Stokes hid in that mind of his had burst into insanity.
“Why, why, why?” he muttered, his voice rising each time he said the word. “Why, why, why?” Louder and louder, and she couldn’t help but take a step away from him, as he was practically screaming now. She’d never been afraid of Derek, but this was unpredictable. She had done something very, very wrong—and it finally broke him.
“Why thefuckwould you do that? Who said I needed that? Who said anyone needed to know that? Youpromisedyou would keep your mouth shut.”
