Page 54 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

My jaw tics at the way they haven’t even embraced their daughter. Haven’t said congratulations, haven’t even smiled. Graduation is supposed to be a celebration, but the room is drenched in obligation.

Becca runs her hands over her tight, black dress. Personally, I think it looks fucking sexy, but no one has asked for my opinion. I’m not even sure why I’m still standing here, but I can’t bring myself to leave when it feels like Becca needs someone on her side.

“Momma, please,” she sighs. “You won’t be able to see it under the god awful gown we all have to wear.”

“Well, thank goodness for small miracles.” Her mom brushes away a curl from her face. “And you should know better than to take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“This is exactly the reason why you need to come back home,” Preacher Sanger pipes in. “Too much freedom makes your tongue loose and your morals shaky, Rebecca.”

“I think you look great.” The words slip out before I can drag them back in.

All three of them shift their bodies toward me. Becca’s eyes are wide. Preach

er Sanger wears a frown, and Mrs. Sanger… her gaze is busy bouncing back and forth between Becca and me, her lips pinching more with each pass.

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Becca crosses her arms, defiance locking her jaw tight.

“We’ll talk about whatever we want in the apartment I pay for,” Preacher Sanger states.

Becca’s posture straightens. “You haven’t paid for a damn thing. Or did you forget that you wrote me off for wantin’ to live my life?”

He chuckles, brushing the nonexistent lint off his suit jacket. “You really think your meager joke of a paycheck was coverin’ all your expenses?”

My stomach drops with the dread that’s settling on top of it.

Becca’s eyebrows pull in. “Well, I… I mean…”

I’m not used to seeing her unsure in her words, and I don’t like it. Part of me wonders if this is how it’s always been between them—the oppressive nature of her father slumping her shoulders and dousing her fire.

My body burns with the need to reassure her of her strength.

“What are you talkin’ about?” she finally manages. “I put everything I make directly into Sabrina’s hands every month.”

He nods, his brow rising. “And where do you think she gets the rest of it?”

Becca’s hand pulls at one of her curls. “No, I… the rest of what?”

“A measly five-hundred dollars isn’t enough to pay for the bed you sleep in, let alone everything that comes with it.”

My stomach rolls. Why didn’t she tell me she needed money?

Becca’s lower lip trembles as she shakes her head. “Sabrina wouldn’t take money from you without tellin’ me.”

Mrs. Sanger sighs, walking over and patting Becca’s arm. “Oh, honey. When will you learn that people aren’t always who you expect them to be?”

Becca’s cheeks redden. I watch as realization filters into the irises of her eyes, whipping around and lighting them ablaze.

Preacher Sanger shakes his head. “Makes me wonder what type of education I’ve even been payin’ for the past four years.”

My heart pinches with the urge to walk over and stand at her back. Steal away the heaviness in her stance and let it rest on my shoulders, instead.

“But I…” Becca’s voice trails off.

Her father walks closer, his hands coming to lay on her shoulders. “Do you truly believe I would let my daughter live broke and destitute? I’ll always be holdin’ the strings to tie you back together.”

Does he really think his daughter is so weak?

My nostrils flare with the strength it’s taking me to hold back my thoughts. I need to leave before I say something I’ll regret, the last thing I want to do is make things worse for her.

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