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responsibility to stay. Some sort of responsibility to her husband.
    Why? Becky Lynn drew her eyebrows together. Did she love him? Is that why she stayed? If so, how could she? How could she feel anything but fury and hatred when she looked at him?
    What was between her mother and father that she didn’t know about?
    Maybe nothing. Becky Lynn frowned and took another swallow of her drink. She didn’t like to think that, didn’t like to think that her mother stayed with her husband because she didn’t have the guts to leave him, or because she was resigned to her fate.
    A twig snapped behind her, and Becky Lynn twisted to look over her shoulder. Her heart stopped, then started again with a vengeance. Coming from the direction of the road was her brother and his gang.
    â€œWell, looky, looky, Randy,” Tommy called out. “It’s your little sister.”
    At the boy’s mocking words, she scrambled up, collecting her knapsack and soft drink. She’d hiked forty minutes to get to this spot; she’d claimed it first. And now, right or wrong, fair or not, none of that mattered. All she cared about was getting as far away from these boys as fast as possible.
    â€œWhere ya going, Becky Lynn?” Ricky drawled, planting himself in front of her. “You’re going to make us think you don’t like us.”
    â€œYeah,” said Tommy, moving to Ricky’s right. “You’ll hurt our feelings.”
    â€œI’m going home now,” she said as calmly as she could around her thundering heart. “Excuse me.” She made a move to step past Tommy; he blocked it.
    â€œExcuse you?” Ricky taunted. “I don’t think so.” He angled a glance at Tommy. “What do you think, Tommy?”
    â€œNah.” The boy grinned, and a shudder moved up Becky Lynn’s spine. “I don’t think so, either.”
    She tried again, this time moving to her left. Ricky blocked her. Tears pricked her eyes, and she fought against them. It wouldn’t do for them to know how helpless and vulnerable she felt. Taking a deep breath, she inched her chin up. “Let me pass.”
    â€œWhere are our manners? You didn’t say the ‘P’ word, Becky Lynn.” That brought fresh snickers from the boys.
    Fear soured on her tongue. She swallowed. “Let me pass…please.”
    â€œWell…since you asked so nice.” Ricky smiled thinly and stepped aside.
    Relief, dizzying in its sweetness, spiraled through her. She started past him, but didn’t get three steps before he grabbed her arm, stopping her. Relief evaporated, replacedby a fluttering panic. She should have known they wouldn’t let her go before they’d had a chance to really humiliate her.
    â€œDon’t you touch me, Ricky Jones,” she said, jerking her arm from his grasp.
    The boys made a collective sound of amusement. Ricky took another step closer. Behind her, Tommy blocked a retreat. “She said that just like a queen, didn’t she, boys?”
    â€œYeah,” Tommy chirped in. “A queen bitch.”
    Becky Lynn dared a glance at Randy. He slid his gaze away, his expression twisted into a resigned grimace. He wasn’t going to help her, she realized, the panic clutching at her. She was on her own. Always on her own.
    Screwing up her courage, she forced herself to take one step, then another. When she took the third, Ricky grabbed her bottom and squeezed, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her right cheek. Her control snapped. She took physical abuse from her father; she had all her life. She wasn’t about to take it from this spoiled boy. She swung around and slapped his hand as hard as she could. “I told you not to touch me, Ricky Jones!”
    For one moment, electric with tension, the boys were quiet. A cloud moved over the sun; the breeze stilled. Somewhere above them a bird screamed. Then fury lit Ricky’s eyes. And