70Becca hugged her knees to her chest and rocked on the bed. She hadn't seen the man at the piano. She didn't need to. It was him. He had sometimes played that song when she'd complained or disagreed or argued.
How had he found her?
Becca ran a hand though her hair and considered what she looked like. Her hair was thick and untamed. She wore no make-up. How often had he criticized her for not presenting herself properly? Even when it was just the two of them, he demanded that she straighten her hair and cover her freckles and apply eyeshadow and mascara. And now she couldn't believe she was even thinking about her appearance.
She paced the room, wishing she hadn't been so quick to hand the truck keys back to Gaby. She opened her bag and crammed her belongings inside. With the new things
