Page 121 of All In Good Time
He didn’t want to drag her down with him.
He forced a calm smile and raised a hand to her hair, tucking stray pieces behind her ear. “Not at all, sweetheart. Ready to go?”
She stared at him, confused. “You sure?”
“Positive,” he said, brushing a thumb over her cheek.
He was a man falling to his death, and there was nothing he could do about it. So he was going to embrace it, and enjoy all that life had to offer before hell boiled over.
He wasn’t going to run anymore.
He was going to hurtle peacefully toward the inevitable.
* * *
Something was wrong.
Even though Derek smiled, and turned up his music as they drove, his hand held her a little tighter than usual.
She’d seen his face.
When he rushed out of Ms. Roylance’s office, he didn’t see her standing outside the room at first, and she caught the panic on his face.
She’d seen it before. When she told him in September about going to CPS, the dread that had contorted his beautiful features scared her to death.
When she reached him today in the hallway, he turned around, and it was gone. Like it never existed. Like the whole thing was a figment of her imagination.
He acted fine as he drove her home after saying they would have to cancel their date until another day since something came up. In fact, he acted too fine. The world might as well be sunny and bright and cheery, when, in fact, the dark winter clouds dulled all color and the roads were icy.
Something was very, very wrong.
“You okay?”
He tilted his head toward her and grinned. “Never been better, sweetheart.” He leaned over to pop a sweet peck on her lips. The flutter in her chest was mild compared to what it usually was since the confusion and uneasiness trampled it down.
He didn’t wonder aloud why she was asking those questions or ask why she didn’t return his smile.
She wanted so badly to believe him, but she didn’t.
45
December 1985
The eye of the storm was the most dangerous part. The winds subside and the world pulls to an unnatural still, putting people at ease and making them let down their guard. He’d been sitting in the eye for three months, and now he could finally see Armageddon looming over him, approaching, with nowhere to turn.
Weak.
He’d wait for it, sitting on his bed. He wouldn’t run this time.
Fool.
He knew it was coming.
The red glow of the digital numbers on his alarm clock was the only light in his bedroom. 8:36 p.m.
There’d been no sign of Mark or Jennifer since he arrived home after dropping Becca off with his lame excuses for postponing the date. Mal was here. He could hear small movements from down the hallway every so often, but not once did she open her door or leave her room.
It was better that way. He didn’t want to see her right now.
