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“So, Jace.” Rebecca acknowledges me at last. Judging by her triumphant smile, Laurel wasn’t kidding at all. I’m boyfriend-material chum. “Nice to see you again. Would you please let Laurel use your phone next time?”
Laurel groan-sighs. “Ma-ma, there won’t be a next time. Let him go home. It’s late.”
“Let’s go inside.” Vincent places a hand on my back, the other one onto Laurel’s, and nudges us toward the house. “We have fresh brownies. Don’t we, Rebecca?”
“We sure do,” she sings. “I’ll wake up Reese, and he’ll unlock the kitchen.”
“Sounds good,” I say. I’m running on fumes at this point, and calories sound divine. The sweeter, the better.
Vincent claps me on the back. “That’s my man, Jace. Never one to refuse good company or food.”
Laurel rolls her eyes to the sky. Somehow, she’s still not catching that I know her family. I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t sick to my stomach.
“Did you have a nice run?” Bjornson wiggles his phone between his fingers, indicating that my dash with Laurel through Portland streets has already hit the vine. He’s been watching everything from the porch this whole time.
Laurel grimaces at him. “You’re so helpful, as usual.”
I try to comfort her. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Vincent’s eyes home in on me, demanding explanations. I’ll let Laurel deal with that. I have no idea what kind of story she wants to spin for her parents.
“I apologize if we made you worry.” It’s poker face time. Nothing to see here. They won’t catch us blushing, holding hands, or stealing glances at each other. As long as I play it cool, Laurel has nothing to worry about.
“Don’t do it again,” Rebecca warns. It’s directed at me this time, not Laurel.
“I won’t,” I promise.
Jonas holds the door for us all, his cold eyes trailing me.
“I won’t apologize. You know better than to mess with me,” I tell him. He may be trained to maim and kill, but I didn’t spend more than a decade wiping the floor with my face at thekwoonto allow anyone, for whatever reason, to make an example of me.
He tilts his head, acquiescing. “I’m just doing my job.”
“So, Jace.” Rebecca summons my attention back to her. “What are you working on these days, handsome?”
“Nothing exciting.” I glance at Laurel. She still has that enduring attitude about her, and she’s killing me. I’d rather get it over with than drag out the torture, but once we’re inside, my feet slow down.
Whenever I visit here, the house reminds me what hard work and dedication can accomplish. What I, in theory, can accomplish. The oval entryway is bedecked with expensive wood floors and a luxurious blue rug with silver trim. The double staircase that hugs the walls and meets at the second floor is the stuff from decadent 1920s movies. Intricately carved banisters, ethereal landscape paintings. I wasn’t exactly joking with Laurel when I asked if her parents would oppose someone like me for her significant other that first time I gave her a ride. By all signs, at least Laurel’s mom doesn’t care how much I make, and I’m not broke by any definition, but the Halifaxes’ entryway could fit my whole house twice over.
“Secretive as always.” Rebecca pokes my shoulder. “When’s your next hit coming out? I’ll hijack Vin’s social media accounts and praise it to the edges of the universe.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa! The Fox and I are on good terms, but he doesn’t promote anyone unless they’ve proved to him, repeatedly, they’re worth their salt. I haven’t reached that status yet. To get recommended to his millions and millions of followers— I throw the rose-colored glasses off. I sound like Shane, desperate for any boost. That aside, I would never use Vincent’s help. His or anyone else’s. I must accomplish everything on my own. It doesn’t count otherwise.
“Thank you for the offer, but I couldn’t accept it even if I had a hit up my sleeves—”
Laurel hooks her hand over my elbow, slender fingers pinching hard, and drags me outside. Before the door closes, I catch her parents, Bjornson, and even Jonas following us with their eyes, necks craned for a better view, their looks nothing but hypercuriosity.
“You know my parents?” Laurel exclaims once we’re out of earshot, although, as loud as she is, we’re probably not.
“Yes, I do. I…” No use denying anything now. “I’ve been here many times. You know how your dad invites people over to jam?”
“I do.” Laurel cuts me with an arctic glare. Her shoulders are bunched up. Her walls are back.
The whole sight of her drains the last of my energy. I lean on one of the columns on the porch. “I know what you’re thinking. That everything I’ve done with you I’ve done out of respect for your father.” I was afraid it would come to this.
“Am I wrong?” Her tone challenges me, but I catch, I think, a few small notes of hope in it as well.
“Yes, you are, but I made a big mistake.” I’m ninety-five percent certain she won’t believe me. I’m a hundred percent sure I’ll turn into dust to be blown away by the night wind if she says I’m dead to her. “I didn’t tell you I knew your dad because… I guess I didn’t have the guts? You’re feisty and cool, and I just wanted to spend some time with you.”
