As I follow her into the tiny kitchen, I catch Rick’s eyes tracking my movement. The way he watches me makes my skin crawl. I feel like I need a shower and maybe a restraining order.
Mom closes the kitchen door behind us—well, pulls it mostly shut, since the hinges are broken and it doesn’t actually close all the way anymore.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” she whispers.
I open my mouth, then close it again. How do I even begin?
Mom, I think this guy might be using you for money.
Mom, Rick is just Derek by another name. They’re ALL just Dereks by another name. Why can’t you see that?
For God’s sake, you’ve known him for approximately five minutes and he’s already eyeing your daughter like she’s on the menu.
But who am I to talk? I’m still wearing Bastian’s pullover, for crying out loud. If th
