Because he is a monster. “You don’t have to listen to him.”
“I’m fine, Krystal.” Becca sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m just…emotional. So…so excited about tonight. And the rehearsal.” She was sha
king all over.
“Don’t lie.” She pleaded. “It won’t—”
“I’m good.” Becca cut her off, pressing her eyes shut. “You don’t understand.”
“I do.” She’d meant to yell. To scream. But her voice, her words, were flat and hollow.
Becca was staring at her.
“I do,” she repeated, harder this time.
“Your momma said you were spiraling. Might spend more time on getting your head straight than things that don’t concern you.” Tig sighed. “Becca knows all about you, Krystal. How unbalanced you are. The accusations you made. All your mistakes. You go on now.” His smile was almost sympathetic.
“The only mistake I made was staying quiet.” She faced Becca. “I won’t make that mistake again.” Her words hung in the quiet. Tig Whitman could bluster and stare and insult her; he didn’t matter. Becca did. She stared at Becca, willing her to listen—to hear her.
“I appreciate the concern.” Becca’s gaze darted from her to Tig and back. “But I’m fine.”
“Because she knows I’ll always take care of her.” He nodded, looking every bit the doting uncle and nothing like the predator he was.
“You know this is wrong. You have to know that.” Becca wasn’t a kid but that didn’t make this okay. Regardless of age, this was never okay. Never. “Becca—”
Becca pressed her hands over her ears. “Go, Krystal.” She headed back to the restroom and slammed the door behind her.
The look on Tig’s face was straight out of her nightmare. That smug fucking smile. Gloating. He’d won and he knew it. Score one for the monster. The monster she was now alone with.
She was out the door, stumbling down the metal steps of the trailer and hurrying across the lawn—away from him. Away from the memories and fear and helplessness. Not for herself—not this time. But for Becca. There had to be something she could do. Some way to get through to Becca.
But first, she had to calm down. Alone. No cake or questions or well-intended hugs or smiles of encouragement. It would make it that much worse.
She pulled her phone out and texted. Have purse. Met up with Becca. Send Sawyer back to get me in a few minutes.
Will do. Have fun. Thanks. Emmy responded with a string of kissy-face emojis.
By the time Krystal reached her bus, she was dripping sweat and having full-body shakes. She downed a bottle of water and crumpled to the floor, curling in on herself. Hands pressed to the ground, she took slow, deep breaths. It didn’t help. Visualizing her happy place was impossible. Her brain had Becca and Tig and memories she’d locked away for years cycling over and over. “Asshole.” She lay flat, staring up at the ceiling. “Damn you.”
If Becca didn’t want her help, she couldn’t force it on her. But she couldn’t leave her to fend for herself. When Krystal had stayed to hear her sing, it had meant something to the girl. Becca was love starved and lonely—perfect victim material. It might take time to show Becca she had a way out—options that didn’t include debasement and emotional abuse—but it was worth it.
It took effort to peel herself off the floor. Once Krystal was up, she leaned against the wall and headed to the bathroom. She washed her face and hands, ran a hand over her braid, and stared herself in the eye. “You’re strong. Be strong.” Fear had controlled her for so long. “No more.” Her hands were trembling, so she shook them out, splashing more cold water on her face and neck. “This is going to take some work.”
Sawyer would be here soon. She was suitably recovered to make it through the evening—she hoped. There was no way to erase tonight, but letting it shut her down was letting Tig win somehow. Head high, she walked back down the hall, shaking her hands and breathing deep. Heather and shopping and cake and fun, all reminders that the world wasn’t all bad.
“See George is still your driver. Good poker player.” Tig was there. In her bus.
Time seemed to stop, the thump of her heart drowning, deafening.
“I’m here to clear the air.” He sounded calm and rational. Not a care in the world. “Before you go off the handle and make a mess of everything.”
He’d already done that. Why couldn’t she breathe? She was strong, dammit.
“Nothing to say now?” He smiled. Smiled. And it scared the shit out of her. Not that he could know that. “I’ll talk, you listen.”
The command in his voice was just what she needed to snap out of it. “Leave.” Her voice didn’t break. Didn’t waver. Strong. “Now.”
Tig didn’t budge. “Becca and I have something special.”