Page 80 of All In Good Time
He slammed the car door shut as he slipped into the front seat. Sheriff Wade was the one who’d managed to get it back from Madison for him—another thing Rebecca had probably arranged.
He shook his head and lit a cigarette, trying his best to not think about her. The smoke cleared his mind, and he peeled away from the curb toward his house.
He blasted AC/DC and tapped at the steering wheel up until the moment he shut off his car in front of the house, announcing his arrival as best he could to the entire neighborhood. The more people he pissed off, the better.
The front door brushed against the floor as he opened into the lit home. The smell of whatever Jennifer had made for dinner lingered in the air. There wasn’t any sign of her or Mal, but the television in the living room played sports coverage.
Derek walked down the hallway and paused to look at his dad, leaning back on the couch with a cigarette smoking in one hand and a beer can in the other. Mark wasn’t watching the TV.
“You missed dinner,” Mark said.
“I had plans.”
Mark scoffed, and took a sip of the beer, not excusing Derek yet. “You always have plans, don’t you?”
Derek shrugged, something he would have never dared do before, and made to head down the hallway.
“I saw that friend of yours. Rebecca. I didn’t know she worked at the mall too,” Mark called after him, and Derek’s retreat halted.
His heart jumped and he hissed under his breath.
“Guess I’ll be seeing her more often.”
When he turned, Mark didn’t look a bit upset, but Derek knew better. He grinned, like this was all a game to him. Derek’s jaw clenched, and his nails dug into his palm. He hated just the thought of Becca being anywhere near his father—much less on a regular basis.
Mark wasn’t done. “I also met that boy, Marty Parr. The one whose home you hid in. Turns out they’re quite cozy with one another.” Marks eyes studied Derek over the rim of his can as he gulped down the last of its contents and chased it with a drag of the cigarette. “Small world, isn’t it?”
Derek felt queazy. Mark had his attention on Becca now.
He wished he could just forget all about it, but when his dad brought her up of his own accord, Derek’s progress regressed several steps and made it difficult to pretend she didn’t exist. It also made it a pain to swallow.
He forced an unnatural smirk on his face, feigning nonchalance, while he panicked internally. “I’ve got no interest in what she’s doing.”
Mark hummed, and observed Derek carefully as he set down his empty can and snubbed out the rest of his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. He shut off the television and stood up, leaving them in unbearable silence. Derek flinched as his father raised a hand.
But there was no blow. Instead, Mark’s hand came down onto his shoulder and patted. “Good. You’ve got no use for useless, meddling bitches like her.”
There was no possible way Mark did not feel Derek tense at the use of the wordsbitch.Useless.
Both words made it impossible for him to stifle the cacophony of feelings that erupted in his chest. He couldn’t even place which was which anymore.
Derek stared at the satisfied smirk on his father’s face as he let go and walked down the hallway, leaving Derek rooted in place and stirring in everything that disturbed him.
How was it impossible to feelanythinguntil it came to her—theneverything? A mere mention sent his heart into overdrive, but an insult—it sent him into a rage.
Derek pounded to his room, slamming the door behind him, and grabbed the closest thing to him. An empty glass cup. He put every ounce of anger and sadness and longing and grief into the pitch and hurled it against the wall. It crashed into a million pieces, and Derek stood to watch as they scattered to the floor.
31
August 1985 | Before
Becca tapped the tip off her ballpoint pen against the top of her notebook, syncing it to the rhythm of Cyndie Lauper singing “She Bop” from the tape Derek had picked from her assortment and put into her player. Lying stomach-down on her bedspread, she kicked her legs up in the air behind her.
“This is shit music.” He cut the song short and ejected the tape and continued to rummage through everything she had.
“Excuse me.” Becca rolled her eyes and dropped her pen. “I happen to love that song.”
“That’s the problem, sweetheart. You could do so much better. Let me go grab something better from my car.”
