Page 37 of All In Good Time
She brushed all his questions off, not able to explain them without exposing Derek.
Derek.
Where would he go now? Would he go right back home to where he had come from? What would happen if he did?
The guilt ate away at her until Marty finally stopped asking because she’d stopped responding, even though his attention returned to her every three seconds. She should have stopped Derek, made him come in. She could have invited him to watch the movie with them—though that might have not gone over well. It was probably better than sending him back to the place he leaves with bruises.
She should call him. See if he made it home. See if he didn’t.
A cold stone hit the bottom of her stomach as she realized she wouldn’t be able to. She didn’t have Derek’s number. The rest of the night was spoiled for her—she had no idea how to check on Derek.
All she could do was hope that he would come back.
* * *
He didn’t come back.
Becca stayed up hours after Marty left, hoping there would be a knock on her door and a certain curly-haired boy standing there. But he never came, and a sick knot built in her chest.
It was still there in the morning and in the afternoon. The weekends were usually a time when she got to relax, but she found herself on edge most of the day—sitting by the phone, hoping he would call. Feeling even worse when she realized she couldn’t call him.
Winston stopped by in the afternoon to check on her before heading to work and got her hopes up when he knocked on the door.
By early evening, it became overwhelming, and she knew she had to do something. So she threw on her boots and her coat, and started the trek from her house to Derek’s.
She had only ever seen the place the one time Derek had dropped Mal off there. It wasn’t much to go off, but she did her best to follow the faint memory of the route until she found herself on a mildly familiar street. She exhaled a steamy breath into the air when she saw the small symmetrical house up a short hill.
Any hesitance was muddled by the urgency to make sure Derek was okay, and she walked up to knock on the front door.
It took a moment for anyone to come. Finally, she heard the soft scuffle of footsteps behind the wood, and it opened to reveal a simply dressed brunette woman. It must have been Derek’s stepmother, Mal’s mother, but she looked very little like Mal. Aside from the same dark hazel eyes, both her skin and hair were lighter. Becca, with her tan skin and darker hair, looked more like Mal than her own mother did.
Mal must have gotten her looks from her real father, just like Becca got them from her mother.
The woman was caught off guard, clearly not expecting any guests to appear at her door.
“Hello.” The woman was soft-spoken. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, yes, I’m looking for Derek.”
Mal’s mother’s eyebrows rose until they were covered by her bangs. “Derek?” She looked over her shoulder, down the hallway, like she was checking to see if he was there. “He’s not here right now.”
“Oh.” Of course, he wasn’t. “Do you happen to know when he’ll be back?”
Her eyes drifted over Becca from head to toe. A bout of self-consciousness came over Becca, and her hand smoothed over the front of her crumpled shirt under her unzipped coat. It wasn’t like she was wearing anything messy, but she wasn’t exactly dressed up for a nice occasion. Didn’t matter though, Derek’s stepmother just looked curious about the girl on her doorstep.
Maybe she wasn’t used to having people show up looking for him. Which would be a surprise, considering how many girls spent the night with him in the rumors.
“Dinner should be ready in about half an hour. He should be home around then.”
Becca deflated. She still wasn’t sure if he was okay, and she’d have to wait a while longer, it seemed.
Smiling, she nodded and hid her disappointment. “I’ll come back later. Thank you.” She waved softly and turned to walk away.
“Hold on.”
Becca paused and faced the woman again. This time she was smiling gently.
“Are you Derek’s friend?”
