Page 112 of All In Good Time
Derek never made her jumpy before. Was it the fact that it was a date? She’d naturally been somewhat comfortable around him since the day they met, and suddenly it was like a switch was flipped, and she couldn’t control the churning in her stomach and the pounding in her chest.
Like a tether to reality, Derek’s right hand dropped from the wheel and reached across the car to cover hers, snapping her out of her head. Her fidgeting froze as his fingers wrapped around hers. Eyes widening, Becca stared at their hands for a second before looking at him.
“It’s me, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s just me.”
His blue eyes softened, and his grasp tightened just enough to be comforting. There was no teasing. Just his sweet words soothed her nerves, and Becca relaxed into her seat as he continued down the highway.
Derek.
Of course. Whether they were dates or friends, or anything else, he was still her Derek. Whether they were kissing or holding hands or mending wounds, they were still the same.
She’d realized it last time they were in the car together, and she realized it even more now. No matter the circumstance—whether it was just a drive or an actual date—they were the same.
A loose breath left her lips, and this time, she weaved their fingers together and held onto him. His thumb brushed gently against her skin.
She smiled at him, and he returned it.
“It’s you,” she said.
41
December 1985
The sun was setting earlier and earlier these days. Richmond was an hour away from Highburg, and by the time Becca saw the “Welcome to Richmond” sign, the sky showed only traces of the last remaining light blue streaks. Darker meant colder, and the two layers Becca wore were apparently not enough.
“I told you to dress warm.”
“I didn’t know the ice-skating rink was going to beoutside.” Becca crossed her arms over herself and watched the puff of air ride over her face as she sighed.
Derek clicked his tongue and walked to the trunk of the car. Becca stayed to the side, shivering, as he opened it up and rummaged through its contents.
“You’re lucky I knew this was going to happen.” The trunk thumped shut and Derek appeared in front of her, throwing something over her shoulders. It took her frozen mind a few seconds to thaw enough to comprehend what was happening, when Derek started helping her arms into the sleeves of one of his thicker jackets.
It was a dark leather jacket—the one he wore often—and the material covered more of her than it did Derek. The nice thing about a jacket a few sizes too big was that it could comfortably contain the two smaller layers she had stacked under it.
Not to mention that stomach-fluttering smell of Derek that lingered on it. If the warmth of the extra layer wasn’t enough, the smell of him did the trick to stop her shivering.
He also brought out a smaller pair of gloves, pink, and clearly not his.
“Are these Mal’s?” she asked as she accepted them and pulled them over her fingers.
“She won’t even notice they’re gone.”
Unlike her, Derekwasprepared for the cold. Becca took him in. Somehow, he made even a winter coat and leather gloves look good.
Derek held out one of his gloved hands toward Becca, which she gladly accepted as they walked toward the ice rink.
Thirty minutes later, she questioned whether ice skating was a good idea. She knew she wouldn’t be good at it, but she didn’t realize she’d bethisbad. People always said it was similar to roller skating, but those people were liars.
She wobbled unsteadily and tried to take another step forward. It was only half successful, but at least she wasn’t on the ground—like Derek.
That was the one consolation in all this. She wasn’t nearly as horrible at ice skating as Derek was.
Maybe roller skating a lot when she was youngerdidmake it easier to stay upright, but Derek—who always claimed that roller skating was too lame—was clinging to the siding of the rink desperately trying to straighten his legs.
Becca bit her lip as she approached him slowly and held in the laugh that bubbled in her chest. “How’s it going there?” she asked.
His response was a well-timed misplacement of his feet that sent him scrambling backward and falling flat on his ass.
