Page 102 of Bad Intentions

Josie Boots stares at me like a sheep.

“Derek Sickler left you, didn’t he?” she whispers.

“Well, no. No. He left town.”

“He left you,” she says louder, gloating. “That’s it, isn’t it? And you never left this town.”

I grit my teeth. How dare she?

“He left you!” she says louder.

“Shut up,” I hiss.

“He did! He ran away from you! He⁠—”

I don’t realize I’m lunging at her until I swing my arm and slap her so hard that she almost falls over together with her chair.

A whimper escapes her. I sniffle, wipe my palm that tingles at the slap, and sit back in my chair, watching her.

She sobs a little. No spunk like her mother used to have. Al would’ve clawed my eyes out. Would’ve spat at me. Josie’s weak. Her cheek turns bright red, and when she looks up at me, her eyes are glazed with cowardly tears.

“That’s right,” I hiss.

I don’t tell her the truth. And the truth is that I drove to Derek’s house that very night. His car was in the driveway, but the door was locked. When I rang the bell, I smiled when I heard the lock turn.

My smile was gone in seconds when a stranger’s face appeared in the doorway.

“Can I help you?” a young woman asked, looking at me with suspicion. She was wearing a hoodie, his hoodie.

“Who are you?” I snapped.

She snorted. “Excuse me? Who are you?”

Was she kidding me? “Where’s Derek?”

“Not home yet.”

Home. Like she had a claim to share this home with him.

I turned on my heel and walked off, fuming. Then I called his number.

He picked up right away. “Yes?”

“Where are you?” I snapped impatiently.

“None of your business, Mal,” he answered.

“Who is the girl at your house?”

“What are you doing at my house?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Who? Is? She?” I yelled.

“None of your business,” he said coldly. “What do you want?”