Page 107 of All In Good Time
Jennifer had done her job of “peacemaker” in the home. That’s what she liked to say anyway.
Derek flicked his thumb over his lighter’s trigger, and a small flame came to life. He brought it right to his face, then blew out the fire. Then he did it again and again. He wouldn’t leave this room until it was safe.
He knew Becca. He knew she would be waiting for him. He’d seen it when he dropped her off at her house—the way her brows crinkled and her nose wrinkled in concern. He’d seen it a million times.
But Mark was watching, he was waiting for Derek to slip up with Becca, and he couldn’t let that happen.
Around seven a.m., Mark left his room and shuffled around the kitchen. The scent of coffee sifted through the crack under Derek’s door and mixed with the scent of lighter fluid. The lavender lingered on his pillow, even though the candle flame had long since been blown out.
Around eight, there was the click of the front door opening and closing, then the start of the engine.
Derek didn’t relax until 8:30, when he knew Mark would be on shift, and the chances of him coming home at all were none. He stopped flicking the lighter, finally setting it down on the table. He rose from his spot to go to the mirror on the wall. His curled hair was frizzier than usual, and he hadn’t rested well. The area under his eyes was dark and his skin sallow. His hand rubbed against his cheek, trying to help the blood flow through his face better.
Quite frankly, he looked like shit.
It was time for him to shower and clean up. He wanted to see her today. No, heneededto see her today.
But he didn’t want her to see him like this—she’d ask questions.
With the house clear, he left his room and slumped into the bathroom to wash off. He turned the shower knob to the left. Undressing, he stepped into the tub and hissed as the water came down in bullets, hitting his skin with a painful sting as steam rose around him.
He was back in his room in minutes, pulling on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.
There was a familiar click, and Derek froze. The front door creaked open, and a pair of quick steps stalked down the hallway.
For a brief moment, panic ran over Derek, and intrusive thoughts mellowed his eagerness to leave.
Somehow, his dad had found out his plans. Somehow, he knew Derek was going to see Becca and was coming to punish him. Somehow, he was going to punish her too.
A loud knock rattled his bedroom door, and Derek jumped.
“Derek! Wake up.”
The panic subsided at the young, feminine voice. It wasn’t his dad. They were okay.
He cleared his throat. “I’m busy, Mal,” he said.
She never did take no for an answer. The knob rattled, and before Derek could stop her, she pushed it open. He sighed and crossed his arms.
She raised a brow, taking in the outfit he wore and his freshly showered hair. “Are you going somewhere?”
He rolled his eyes and grabbed the side of the door, attempting to force it shut. Mal wedged her foot between the floor and door, effectively stopping him.
“Whatever you want to say right now, I’m not interested.”
“Even if it has to do with Becca?” she asked.
The pushing stopped, and Mal grinned in triumph when Derek’s expression gave way to interest. Derek let go of the wood and crossed his arms over his chest. He tried to keep his face straight, but he knew that his eyebrows peaked slightly higher than they would when relaxed. “What do you want?”
She stepped into the room and mirrored his stance. Her head tilted to the side, studying him. He frowned, feeling like a bug under a microscope. What the hell was this about?
“Did you kiss Becca, or did she kiss you?”
His mouth opened, so caught off guard he didn’t even try to hide it. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, don’t even try.” She laughed, excitement scrawled into that mischievous smile. “I slept over at her house last night, and she said you guys kissed.”
Derek blinked. “She did?”
