Page 34 of All In Good Time

“Yeah, it’s not worth much right now.” He sighed, running another hand over his head. It was messed up enough that it seemed he’d been doing that a lot throughout the day. “But I also didn’t want to let an asshole like Stokes ruin things between us. I refuse to.”

Becca blinked and turned to watch him focus too hard on the road in front of him.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was upset and confused, but it doesn’t excuse anything I said. I don’t like the idea of you being friends with him, but I realize it’s not my place to dictate who you can and cannot…associate with.”

Becca’s jaw dropped. This was really not the direction she had expected the conversation to go. She had gotten into Marty’s car, fully anticipating dropping to her knees—as well as she could in this cramped thing—and begging for forgiveness. Instead, Marty came right out with these lines that sounded extremely…scripted.

Becca pursed her lips to hide the amused smile that was threatening to rise. “Marty?”

He finally looked at her, his eyes wide like a puppy.

“Who the hell told you to saythat?”

He blinked and sheepishly bit his lip. “I may have asked Jenna for some advice.”

A laugh burst from Becca, unable to stay hidden any longer, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Marty grew defensive. “So the words aren’tentirelymine, but the sentiment is there. Be friends with him, don’t be friends with him. Whatever.” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Just don’t expect me to have any part in that. Alright? I’d rather keep my distance from him as much as possible and let you live your life, as long as he isn’t an asshole to you too.”

Becca couldn’t stop laughing, but she still nodded. Even Marty bit back a smile when he looked over and saw her with her head thrown back in amusement.

“I’ll accept that,” Becca finally said. “I’d rather you not try and kill each other in front of me anyway.”

Marty muttered something under his breath, but Becca couldn’t hear it. He let her calm down, smiling softly to himself.

As her laughter slowed, Becca turned to her friend again and mustered up the main thing she had come here to say. “I’m really sorry, Marty. Not for being friends with Derek, but for hiding it from you. I should have told you the first time I met him.”

He nodded. “You can make up for it by getting the movieandsnacks for this weekend. And I don’t want to watchFootlooseagain, so I get to choose.”

Becca sighed in mock disappointment, but, a heavy weight was lifted off her shoulders. She would let Marty pick the movie every time if he wanted to. “Fine, you win.”

13

September 1985 | After

Becca moved robotically in the kitchen under Mark’s watchful gaze until she was hidden behind the wall.

He made no sound, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t doing something. He could be looking around, looking at pictures of her, her mother. He might see more of her than she wanted him to. He might be listening to hear if she tried to call for help on the phone on the other side of the room. Afraid of what he might do if she did, she remained in place next to the stewing coffee pot.

“Are your parents not home?” he asked from the living room.

His sudden question made her jump and nearly drop the mug in her hand. She put a hand over her chest and took a deep breath before answering. Good thing he couldn’t see her.

“My mom’s away for work.” The coffee was hot enough now. She poured it into the mug and stepped back into his line of sight.

Mark hadn’t left the couch, thankfully, but his eyes were settled on the pictures hung on the wall. All of them either of her, her mom, or the two of them standing side by side.

He only looked away when she reached the mug out. Without a thank you, he accepted and sipped at the steaming liquid without waiting for it to cool.

She wasn’t sure what to do. It felt weird to sit down and settle in his presence, but it would be weirder to him if she stood there, carefully watching every move he made, and trying not to flinch if he shifted too quickly.

She chose the leather recliner furthest from him.

“What about your dad?”

Becca’s arms crossed over her chest, creating as inconspicuous a barrier as she could between herself and Mark, and her hand grabbed a fistful of her shirt and squeezed. She forced a painfully calm smile. “He’s gone.”

She didn’t want to get into ten years of trauma with this man. If he was looking for a reaction, he’d be disappointed she’d managed to bottle up anything about her invisible father.

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