Page 39 of All In Good Time

Mark looked Becca over, his gaze an intimidating evaluation of the person claiming to be his son’s friend. He must’ve never met any of Derek’s friends either. He reached out a hand. Becca ignored the instinct to flinch and took it. His grasp was firm as he shook.

“I haven’t heard about you before, Rebecca.”

“We’ve only recently met.”

“Hmm.” He nodded and let go of her hand.

She hid a small fist behind the bulk of her coat, and clenched and unclenched a few times in an attempt to get rid of the feeling of his skin on hers.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

Becca bit the inside of her cheek and swallowed. He wasn’t as inviting as Jennifer had been. Even the simple question made her feel unwelcome. “I wanted to see if Derek was home. I don’t want to intrude—”

“Nonsense.” He cut her off, his lips raising slightly into a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You may as well stay. Jennifer is about finished.”

Behind Mark’s back, Mal stared at Becca. Her frown was deep and her gaze unsteady, like she was trying to send a message without making any sudden movements. Becca was no fool, the warning was loud and clear, even without words, but she was already here. She had already accepted the invitation once. It might lead to more attention if she backed out and left entirely.

And Derek. If no one had seen him, then no one knew if he was okay. She’d come here to check on him, and she would stay until she could.

“Thank you, I’d love to stay.”

* * *

The smoke burned the back of Derek’s throat, soothing the anxiety that always hit him when he pulled up to his house. Especially now that he was already late for dinner and hadn’t been home since his dad smacked him across the face in another drunken fit of rage last night, while throwing out his favorite slurs and curses in Derek’s face.

It also helped ease the ache in his joints from sleeping in the back seat of his car. He didn’t have it in him to show up on Becca’s doorstep again after he’d found Parr there last night.

He already felt guilty turning to her at his worst, and he felt even worse showing up and ruining her night. Leaving had been the only way to make it up to her.

Based on the quickly approaching dark, he was even later to dinner than he had been before, and the moment he walked into the house, he knew he’d hear all about it. He took one more deep drag of the cigarette before crushing it under his boot and walking up to the house.

The smell of Jennifer’s cooking hit him as soon as he stepped through the door, followed shortly by the silence. A quick glance at the clock confirmed his tardiness—fifteen minutes after the time his father had told him they would eat.

In a normal household, he would hear chatter, or silverware clinking against porcelain plates, but at his, there was nothing. His father was strict. No eating until everyone was sitting at the table. Even if it meant waiting an hour for Derek to show up.

He took a deep breath and walked into the room, steadying his face and brushing at his hair to look somewhat presentable.

All eyes turned to him when he walked into the room. All three pairs.

Three.

One of them had dark brown eyes that stared at him from inside his head even when she was not there.

He blinked—once, twice—not fully comprehending what he was seeing. She shouldn’t be here. The anxiety he had worked to quell grew tenfold, and his entire body froze, his mind playing catch-up.

All the while, his dad watched him carefully from his seat at the head of the table, analyzing his son’s every breath.

“What’s going on here?” Derek’s voice came out hoarse, and he internally winced at how shocked he sounded.

Becca watched him, her eyes searching him up and down. He wasn’t blind to the way they lingered on the marks on his face, or the clothes that were the same as the night before. Her back was stick straight, her hands fiddling nervously in her lap.

His father was the one to answer. “Your friend stopped by to see you. We figured she might as well join us while she was here.”

A test. A sick, twisted test. He could hear it in the intonation of his father’s voice and the clicking of his fingers tap, tap, tapping on the table.

A test he was quickly failing.

Derek’s hands curled into fists, his jaw tightened so hard it clicked. Self-control was quickly being lost the longer he looked at Becca, who stared at him with her worried eyes.

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