Questionable Love (A Love Beyond Labels #2)

by Danielle Rocco

  “What are you doing here? How did you know I was out?”

  She smiles, and I’m taken back by how pretty it is.

  “Is that any way to greet your mother, Jace?”

  BREAKFAST WITH THE STARKS

  “PUT THE PLATES ON the terrace, Shay.”

  “We aren’t eating in the kitchen?”

  “No, it’s beautiful outside. Your dad wants breakfast out back.” She sets the quiches onto the counter and looks at me. “We’ll leave the patio doors open, so you can hear the phone.” I nod and walk outside.

  “Beau, can you turn the volume down on the music, please?” I ask him. He looks over at me from his chair.

  “It’s not too loud,” Dad says as Beau reaches for the controller on the glass table.

  “I want to hear the phone ring. Jace should be calling soon,” I inform them. Dad nods as Beau turns it down.

  “This music sucks. Put on something else,” Tristan yells, coming up from the pool from his morning laps. Dripping wet, he picks me up and gives me a big hug. Tatum comes up behind him with her bikini on.

  “He forced me to do laps with him,” she says, putting her long hair up in a towel. Tristan sets me down and looks over at her.

  “You need to work on that body of yours, Tatum. It looks jiggly.”

  “Shut up, Tris!”

  “He’s just kidding, Tate,” I tell her, wiping my face. “He loves messing with you, and you always feed into it.”

  “She’s so gullible.” Tristan laughs.

  “No, I’m not.” She hits him hard in the stomach.

  “Oh, you’re getting it now, little sister!” he says, grabbing her around the waist, running back down to the pool and throwing her in.

  Beau laughs. “I never tormented you like they torment each other.”

  “That’s because you were always self-consumed,” Jules says, bringing the quiches out from the kitchen.

  “God, why is the princess here?” Beau rolls his eyes.

  “Because I’m family, Beau, and I love it here.” She smirks.

  “Oh, by the way, did I mention Mila is coming for breakfast, too?” Beau asks nonchalantly. My gaze goes straight to Jules.

  “No, you didn’t tell me that, Beau,” Mom says, setting down a container of fresh juice. “Of course, she’s welcome. I have plenty.” Jules looks at my mom, and her eyes go wide.

  “I’m just kidding. I didn’t ask her to come,” Beau teases.

  Tristan grabs a piece of coffee cake and groans, “Why did you tease us like that, bro? Staring at her would be the best breakfast ever.” Jules’s eyes dart at him.

  “She’s not that great, Tristan.”

  “Umm, she’s hot, Jules.”

  “Whatever. If you like the slutty look. But, you should aim higher than Beau, Tristan. He’s proven to be a bad influence on his siblings.”

  “Don’t be catty, princess,” Beau chimes in.

  “I’m just warning him, Beau. He should want a classy girl.”

  “Okay, you two stop,” I tell them. “What time is it, Dad?”

  He looks at his watch. “It’s nine o’clock on the dot.”

  “Jace should be calling any minute.”

  IT’S SO DAMN WEIRD

  “HOW AM I SUPPOSED to greet you, Grace?” She shrugs her shoulders that I notice aren’t so frail any longer. “You never once came to see me in prison, and now you show up the day I’m released? How did you know I was getting out?”

  “I didn’t know,” she says, and again, I’m taken aback by how she looks. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you, and when I could, I came to see you.”

  “When you could? Have you been busy the entire thirteen months I’ve been away?” I say bitterly.

  “You could say that,” she says, brushing her long brown hair off her shoulder. I watch her, and she watches me, no words between us. Her hair is different. It was always dirty blonde and looked a mess, but now, it looks healthy, more like what it was in pictures I saw when she was younger. Her face is full with color, and she’s gained weight. This woman in front of me is not the woman I grew up with. She doesn’t look anything like the person I left in the apartment, staggering around with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other the night my life completely changed. “Why are you sitting out here alone? Where’s Shay?”

  “Why are you talking like you know Shay?”

  “We’ve met,” she says. I squint my eyes, and she clears her throat. “We’ve actually met a couple of times.”

  “She never told me.”

  “They weren’t the best circumstances.”

  Defense finds me knowing clearly how Grace can be. “What did you say to her?”

  “That doesn’t matter right now. Is she picking you up?”

  “No, I want to surprise her. Landon is supposed to get me in a few hours.” I look her in the eyes. “Why do you look so different?” I say, picturing her before I got locked up. Then my mind goes straight to my lifeline. “Is my bike still with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take me to it.”

  “What about your friend?”

  “Right now, I want to get to my bike and some of my own clothes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Grace, I’m sure.”

  “Okay, let’s go,” she says, turning around, walking toward the parking lot.

  “You actually have a car?”

  “Yeah, it’s not the best car, but it gets me to where I need to go.”

  I think this is the longest conversation I’ve ever had with my mother. Nodding, I start walking with her to the parking lot. I’ll just get my bike, drive back over here, and wait on Landon.

  I put on my seatbelt when we turn onto the ramp going north on the 101. We drive for about ten minutes. “Where do you live now?” I ask Grace. She glances over, and I’m greeted once again with a genuine smile. I’m seriously tripping out.

  “Oregon.”

  “Oregon? When the fuck did you move to Oregon?”

  With all traces of a drunken slur gone, she answers, “Don’t swear like that, Jace.”

  “Are you serious? You’re the one that taught me how to swear. I think ‘fuck’ was my first word.”

  “Well, I try not to talk like that anymore, so tone it down.” Is she serious right now? It’s like I’m in the car with Mary Poppins, and trust me when I say I dreamed my whole life my mother would act like Mary Poppins singing cheerfully around the house, but this right now is way too much for me to handle. She’s seriously like a different person—maybe not the singing part, but she looks like a real mom, and it’s so damn weird.

  “Listen, Grace. I can’t go to Oregon. Shay has no idea I’m out of prison yet.”

  “Do you want to get your bike?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you need to come with me to Oregon to get it. Shay will understand.”

  “No, she won’t,” I say pointy. “Mom, you need to get off at the next exit.”

  “Jace, calm down. You said she doesn’t even know you’re out. We can make the drive. You can get a good night’s rest and take off in the morning. It’s one day. And that will give us a chance to talk.”

  My stomach tightens, and I feel hot as shit.

  “You had a chance to talk to me the last twenty years of my life and never bothered.”

  “I want a chance, Jace.” She pauses. “Then, you can get your bike and go home to Shay.”

  I pull at my hair. “I won’t have a place to go home to if she finds out I got out and didn’t come right to her. It’s bad enough I missed a phone call this morning. She’s already going to be worried about that, and Landon—he’s supposed to pick me up at the prison soon. Do you have a cell phone, Grace?”

  “No, I haven’t gotten one yet. I do have phone service at the house, though.”

  “You drove all this way without a cell phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Mom.”

  “I hav
e a map. I was always good at directions, and I wanted to come see you.”

  I can’t help it. Even through all her fucked-up ways, I still care about her. She’s my mother. I rub my jaw hard, and my breathing goes ragged. “I need to get my bike and some clothes, and then I’m coming right back. I have to get back to Shay before she knows I’ve gotten out.”

  Grace keeps glancing at me nervously, and I can see it on her face that she feels bad, but she’s right. I need my bike. I’m fucking up bad right now, and I’ve just got to hold on to Landon’s promise to not call Shay and hope like hell she won’t find out I’ve been released. Really, how would she know? She won’t. Shay doesn’t go to the prison, and she’ll probably think I couldn’t get to the phone. She knows the possibility is there for limited calls to go out in a day. She won’t question not hearing from me for one day. I’ll get my bike, then turn right around and head back to California.

  “How fast does this car go?”

  “I pushed eighty most of the way here.”

  “If you need to rest, let me know. I’ll drive.”

  “Sounds like the only time you’re going to give me is during this car ride.”

  “My priority is getting back to Shay.”

  “I understand,” she says, looking straight ahead. She’s hurt, but the years of no love shown make understanding hard, and as much as I’d like to get to know the new Grace, I have a girl whom I know with every bit of my heart is slipping farther and farther away from me. And, the one thing I know right now is a promise that means the world to her is being broken without her knowing, and my only goal is getting back before she does know it.

  CAN I HAVE ONE, TOO?

  AFTER I HELP MOM clean up from breakfast, Jules and I head over to the nail shop downtown. Upscale and busy, where a lot of local celebs come for manis and pedis, we waste no time checking in and finding the perfect color.

  “Shay, do you like this color?” Jules asks, holding up a bottle for me to look at. I nod as I see someone coming toward me out of the corner of my eye.

  “Can I have a picture with you?” a girl with braces and braided hair asks nicely. Her mom stands with her, Louis Vuitton around her arm and her cell phone in her hand.

  “I knew it was you as soon as you walked through the door,” her mom admits, garnering attention by others, whom I notice scrambling for their phones. Inside, I feel my heart pick up speed, and my eyes go to my charm bracelet.

  “I love your song so much! It’s so pretty!” her daughter says excitedly.

  “I’m glad you enjoy my song.”

  “Is it about Hunter Daniels? You two make the cutest couple,” the mom exclaims loudly. I look at Jules as she picks up a tabloid magazine from the table. Pictures of Hunter and me from the night at the club are plastered all over the front page. The little girl leans into me, and I bring my frantic eyes back to her mother and the ten other cell phones ready to snap the money shot of little old me in a nail shop.

  “Thank you,” the girl says. The mom hands her phone to her daughter.

  “Take one for Mommy, too,” she tells her, then looks back at me. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Umm, no, that’s fine,” I say, embarrassed. Her daughter takes the picture, and the mom takes her phone right out of her hands.

  “Let me check it first. Sometimes she takes a fuzzy picture,” she says to me. I give a tight-lipped smile as a lady calls me over for my nail appointment. “Yup, it’s perfect. Thanks again.”

  “Sure,” I reply with my best tone.

  As I turn to walk away, another girl walks up to me. “Can I have one, too? I love ‘Moon and Stars’. It’s like my song to my boyfriend now. I have it set as my ringtone when he calls.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet. I wrote ‘Moon and Stars’ for my boyfriend.”

  “For Hunter Daniels?”

  “No. Hunter Daniels and I are just friends.”

  “That’s not what the tabloids are saying.” I hear someone say behind me. I turn around, and a few teenage girls are looking at the front page of the magazine Jules just set down.

  “Can we get pictures, too?” they say in unison at the same moment Jules calls me over to my nail lady, who is getting impatient.

  “Okay, but really quick. My nail lady is waiting on me.” I lean in, and they snap a selfie with me in it. As they walk away, I hear them say I was rude and totally lying about Hunter. I walk up to my nail lady and sit down in the chair that’s been waiting for me. “I’m really sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay. I see it happen all the time with clients. Fans don’t understand boundaries,” she says as she starts working.

  “I almost told that one off that said you were rude, Starkie,” Jules pipes up beside me.

  “Do you think I was rude?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Don’t stress about it, Shay. You’re going to have haters. All celebrities do—it comes with the territory. Someone will always have something negative to say.”

  “They said I was lying about Hunter and me.”

  “Did you see the pictures, Starkie?” Jules gets up quickly and grabs the magazine. She hands it to me.

  “Oh my God, these look bad, Jules. They look like we are actually kissing.”

  “I know it looks pretty bad,” she says, twisting her lip.

  “Hunter’s so close to my lips, but what people don’t know is, right after these pictures were taken, I leaned away from him and told him he was being disrespectful. I got up to tell you I wanted to leave. His lips never touched mine.”

  “I know that, but the world sees something different.”

  “Jace will never be able to handle this, and honestly, Jules, I won’t either.”

  “Listen, you have your radio interview in a couple of days with VIBE, and you can squash the rumors live about Hunter then. Hopefully, people will move on from this gossip,” Jules says, trying to ease the anxiety written all over my face.

  “Jace wasn’t able to get phone time today, so tomorrow when we talk, I’m going to tell him what’s going on. I don’t want him to find out by anyone other than me.”

  I WISH YOU WOULD HAVE SMILED

  LIKE THAT WHEN I WAS A KID

  WITH STALE PRETZELS and a bottle of water in my hands, I walk up to the checkout counter where Grace is paying for her gas. It’s a small gas station, only four pumps. I set my stuff to get me through the ride onto the counter, and my eyes glance around the store, landing on a bunch of magazines against the window. I walk over to them, and my stomach falls to the dirty floor.

  I pick one up and stare at the prettiest girl in the world in a small tank top and a very happy movie star leaning over a table full of amber-filled glasses with his lips almost touching hers. Tears pool in my eyes, and my heart beats out of control. Grace walks up to me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shove the magazine in her face. “I’m driving the rest of the way, Grace. And if you don’t like to go fast, I suggest you go to sleep.”

  TIRED AS HELL, but determined to get to Grace’s, I nudge her awake when we cross the Oregon state line. She opens her eyes, and I pull over so she can drive us the rest of the way to her house.

  Giving her a minute to wake up, I stretch my long legs and switch seats. Twenty minutes later, she says, “We’re here.” She turns off the quiet one-lane road. Smooth pavement turns to uneven potholes leading to a small house. She pulls in and parks in front of a large piece of timber with rope on the ends. Rain starts to hit the windshield in little splatters.

  “Give me a minute to unlock the front door. I don’t want Shay’s letters to get wet,” Grace says. By the time she gets out of the car, it starts pouring hard, and thunder and lightning pop and crackle in the sky. I get out and stretch my legs. Rain-soaked hair sticks to my face, and I push it back. “Okay, it’s open!” she yells, reaching in and turning on a light. I nod, opening the back door of the car and pulling out my box. Not wanting the letters to get wet, I slide the box under my
shirt. It’s not great at protecting them, but it’s better than nothing. Wet gravel crunches beneath my feet as I quickly make my way up the small wooden porch and walk into Grace’s house.

  House, not apartment.

  “It’s cold in here,” she says with a shiver.

  Curious eyes watch as I pull my girl’s devotion to me out from under my damp shirt, then walks over to a clean white wall where she turns on the heater. It kicks on quick, blowing a musty smell into the room. “Sorry… That happens when I first turn it on, but once it gets going it’s fine and warms the house pretty quickly. It’s because the house is surrounded by trees, making it impossible for any natural sunlight to come in and warm it during the day,” she rambles while adjusting the temperature. I hear her, but my eyes are everywhere.

  Clean white walls, small picture frames, and a thick blanket lying neatly over the couch catch my eye. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes is nowhere to be found, and empty beer cans seem to be replaced with jars of apple cinnamon candles. This is nothing like the apartment I grew up in. Even without the heat finding its way into the room, it still feels warm. It feels like a home.

  Grace turns around and looks at me with a hopeful smile. “It’s not much, but I’ve tried to make it cozy.”

  Dragging my fingers through my hair, I look at my mother. I want to be happy for her, but I can’t help that part of me that wishes she had cared to do this when I was a kid. I didn’t get cinnamon-scented candles; I got the empty beer cans everywhere and an apartment filled with dirty clothes and dust. I push back the bitterness.

  Setting down my only belongings onto the small pine table, I tell her, “It’s a nice place.” Walking past me, she goes into the kitchen that has more candles sitting on the counter.

  “Thanks.” She opens a cabinet, pulling out a large glass and filling it with water from a jug. “Do you want a glass of water, Jace?” I shake my head no as she takes a lemon out of a basket, cuts it in half, and squeezes all the juice from one half into her glass. She takes a big drink. “I drink a lot of lemon water these days.”