Page 117 of All In Good Time

“Derek.”

His stepmother’s voice cut through the clouds like a strike of lightning, and he blinked. The world came into focus around him, and he looked over to take in the scene in front of him.

She looked surprised to see him standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, like someone caught in the middle of doing something wrong. In her hands were broken pieces of glass—the rest of which were scattered over the carpeted floors, along with several other things that weren’t supposed to be there.

The smile fell from his face as he took in the scene. It was like a storm had passed through and ravaged just their living room. An ashtray and magazines were scattered around, some thrown all the way to the opposite wall. One of the decorative pillows looked like it had been ripped apart, small pieces of white fluff coating the couch and ground near it.

“What happened here?”

“Oh.” Jennifer’s voice rose an octave, and her eyes turned toward the hallway, where her and Mark’s bedroom sat at the end. She didn’t realize how easily she gave things away sometimes. “Just a little accident.”

An accident. The second littleaccidentto happen in the home in the past couple days.

“Right.” He didn’t even bother to sound convinced. She would be a fool to think he believed her.

Jennifer bit her lip, and her brows drew together.

He couldn’t stay here. The clouds in his head hadn’t darkened completely, but the longer he stuck around, the higher the risk. He left Jennifer on the floor and went to his room.

He heard the sound of broken glass clinking together as he quietly closed his bedroom door.

He stood in place, staring at the wall.

He was living in two different worlds at once. The faux peace was starting to quickly evaporate from the home, like water in summer heat, and it rattled the barrier into the dreamlike euphoria he desperately grasped onto.

He clenched his fist. He would hold to it as long as possible.

He slid his chair under his doorknob and shed off his layers, leaving them on the bedroom floor near his bed. He nearly fumbled as he grabbed his lighter, then sat on his mattress next to the purple candle, which now only contained a quarter of the wax it once had.

He lit it, and leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes. He pictured her face, her taste, those words.

I love you,she said.

For now, it was all he would think about. It was all he needed, so he sighed in the lavender.

43

December 1985

Derek walked through the school hallway with a small smile on his face.

The stares following him barely fazed him—granted they never did—but now he enjoyed it a little more than usual. People were already talking about Becca getting into his car the night before and out of all the rumors spread this was the first time they were almost right.

In fact, he’d love to yell it out and make sure everyone at school knew how much he loved this girl. That would give them something to talk about.

But he couldn’t do that. Not yet. Not while word might eventually get to his father somehow.

The likelihood of high school drama reaching his father was low, but not impossible.

His reason for going to Richmond for their date wasn’t random. None of his choices with her were random anymore, but it was impossible to stay away, so he’d be careful.

Right now, it was all speculation to the students who murmured as they passed him, and he ignored it to focus on getting to his next class. They passed him in droves, and he kept his eyes ahead, a light smile on his face.

Out of the corner of his eye, coming from inside one of the offices, he spotted a familiar black braid and slowed his walk.

Mal didn’t notice him as she looked up at the school counselor and nodded at something she said. Normally, Derek wouldn’t go out of his way to talk to his sister at school, but seeing her with Ms. Roylance made him halt and watch the interaction.

Ms. Roylance had a reassuring smile on her face, but Mal was frowning deeply. After a second, they both waved goodbye, and Derek walked over to their direction.

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