Confessions: Julien (Confessions Series Book 2)

by Ella Frank

  Robbie shrugged his bag up his shoulder and frowned. “What do you mean? It’s their house.”

  “Yes, it is,” Priest said as they started across the drive to the doors. “That’s the only reason I show them any respect, especially with how they treat Julien. But what I mean is they’re virtual ghosts. They hardly talk. At least not to Julien, and certainly not to me, and they won’t talk to you either. He insists on coming back each year to check in with them. But the main reason he comes back here is to punish himself.”

  “Why would he do that?” Robbie said, his feet coming to a halt halfway across the drive.

  “Because he feels he deserves it.” Priest looked up to the open door ahead of them. “It’s his story to tell, and it’s not an easy one. But something you should know? Julien loved his sister and parents very much. Their family was as perfect as one could be until the night she died. And that night, Julien lost all of them. It took him a long time to decide that his life was worth living again after that. A long time and some really bad decisions.”

  “Like stealing a car?” Robbie whispered, and when Priest looked over at him, he noticed Robbie’s eyes were a little glassy.

  “Like stealing a car…”

  Robbie gnawed on his lower lip. “I can’t imagine him like that.”

  “I know. And seeing him like this is going to be hard too. But this is part of him. A really big part of him.”

  Robbie nodded, and Priest gestured to the door with a tilt of his head.

  “You ready?”

  “Yes. Let’s go and find him,” Robbie said, and Priest led the two of them inside to go and find their man.

  JULIEN CRACKED THE seal on the lid of the Grey Goose he’d just taken from his dad’s bar and went about unscrewing it as he stared over at the locked door of the game room.

  The bar was located a little ways from the kitchen, but just as he’d suspected, he’d managed to locate something to dull the ache that had now spread from his heart to encompass his entire body.

  As he got the blue cap off the vodka and went to put it down on the counter, his hand knocked one of the glasses on the shiny surface and it fell off, bounced on the hardwood, cracked, and then landed on the thousand-dollar rug.

  Julien stared at it.

  He knew he should pick it up—he’d always been taught to respect other people’s belongings, and this house, that glass, and that rug were certainly not his. But since no one was actually there to give a fuck, he left it exactly where it was.

  He raised the bottle to his lips and took a long swig, and as he swallowed back the clear liquid, he held on to the bar for support. Not because he was drunk—this was his first drink since last Friday at The Popped Cherry. He held on because his legs felt like rubber, as if a light breeze might knock them out from under him.

  That had everything to do with the lack of oxygen to his muscles right now, and that had everything to do with the fact he was back in this room, staring at that door, and he was finding it difficult to fucking breathe.

  He needed to get out of there. He needed to take the bottle and get the fuck out of that room…now.

  As he snagged it in his fist, he walked around the counter, his anger festering inside him like an ugly disease as he headed out the door and down toward the end of the house that his room was in.

  He still couldn’t believe his parents weren’t there. There was no note, no message as to where the hell they’d gone. Just an empty mansion on the top of an overpriced hill. Fucking brilliant, he thought, and took another swig.

  Did they actually think he liked coming there? To a house where he could hear and see her everywhere? It was bad enough just being himself most days, let alone visiting this place, and that room, and they couldn’t even be bothered to show up for her. Must be nice.

  As he went, he took another swig of the fiery liquid and enjoyed the burn as it slid down and heated his gut, and as he walked past one of the many guest rooms, he came to the wall that had once showcased nothing but family photos.

  From bad haircuts to worse, and everything in between, he and Jacquelyn had always hated taking their friends past this particular wall because it was what they referred to as “the wall of shame.” That, however, had changed.

  Not the photo wall, but the photos that now hung there.

  Julien stepped in front of the images that were displayed in a variety of different frames at all different levels, and as he stared at the beautiful face smiling and laughing out of all of them, he raised the bottle of vodka to his lips and took another long gulp.

  Jacquelyn.

  Every photograph that now hung upon that wall was of Jacquelyn. It, like the house itself, had become a shrine to the one who could no longer set foot inside it.

  Julien ran his fingers over the one closest to him. It was of Jacquelyn standing by their old Christmas tree back in France, and she was wearing a bright red coat with a hood that matched. There was snow all over it from when they’d been running around outside, and she was laughing, her eyes sparkling with joy.

  She was thirteen years old in that picture. He knew that because he had been standing right beside her when it had been taken—even though he was now nowhere to be found now.

  As his eyes began to blur, Julien touched the long strands of her hair which fell down over her coat.

  “You’re everywhere, ma petite poulette. Everywhere, but nowhere at all…” Julien shut his eyes as a tear escaped and rolled down his cheek, his body no longer able to contain his grief.

  She was trapped here. Forever enshrined in a castle that now felt more like a tomb—an empty, sad tomb.

  He brought the bottle up to his lips and took another sip, and when he lowered it by his side, a soft, lilting laugh filled his mind and he whirled around, half expecting to see her there, in the place where her laughter had once filled the halls. But non, now it merely haunted them.

  He walked by the rest of the images without another glance. Unable to look her in the eye. Unable to see himself cut from her life. Cut from theirs. Then he made his way further along the corridor until he reached a door he knew well.

  This was her place. A room she’d made her own. And when he pushed open the door, Julien stared inside to see the heavy curtains drawn, making the mahogany walls and bookshelves appear more like a coffin than the traditional Victorian library their mom had modeled it after.

  He walked inside and ran his fingers over the books in the shelves. Most were fiction. Some romances, some thrillers, some paranormal, and when he got to the spot he was looking for, Julien pulled an old hardback free and stared down at the worn cover.

  Little Women.

  It was the copy he’d given to her all those years ago, and inside was a bookmark of where she’d been up to on her reread. He’d never been able to bring himself to see where she’d been at, and tonight was no different.

  He didn’t bother opening the curtains, didn’t bother switching on a light. Instead, Julien sat down on the floor with his back against the shelf, shut his eyes, and hugged the book tightly to his chest.

  Every year he fought against this. He fought against coming back to this house where he knew she was. He fought it, and at the same time knew he would never stop coming. Not as long as he was physically able to get there.

  He laid his head down on his knees, and as he wound his arms around his legs, he felt her sitting right there beside him.

  “I’m so sorry, ma petite poulette,” he whispered, and let every piece of his heart shatter all over again. “I wish I could tell you how sorry.”

  And though he knew it was likely the alcohol, Julien could’ve sworn he heard, “I know, Jules. But it’s too late…”

  Chapter Nineteen

  CONFESSION

  It was everything a first kiss shouldn’t be.

  Yet it shocked me straight to my heart

  and reminded me that I’m alive.

  “HE’S BEEN GONE awhile,” Robbie said from his spot on the plush settee
where he’d taken up residence around twenty minutes ago.

  After they’d brought their bags inside and locked up, they’d quickly realized that they were the only ones there, and Julien’s parents must be out. So Priest had directed them into an enormous living space that was home to some of the most spectacular views Robbie had ever seen.

  The Stone Canyon Reservoir, Priest had told him, and Robbie couldn’t help but wonder how much a place like this would run a person. It was, in a word, mind-blowing.

  Not only did Robbie feel as though he were on top of the world up there. But they also got to look down on everyone from what looked like a French parlor from the old days, which had one of the most gorgeous baby grands he’d ever seen sitting off in the corner.

  “You’re right, he has,” Priest finally said as he got to his feet and started to pace back and forth in front of the wall of windows. It was obvious he had been trying to give Julien some space when they’d arrived, maybe to deal with his parents on his own? But since they weren’t there, Robbie could tell Priest was getting anxious over letting Julien out of his sight for so long. “I’m going to go and check the kitchen. That’s usually where he winds up.”

  As Priest crossed the living room, Robbie stood to follow, and Priest came to a stop and looked back.

  “I won’t be more than a few minutes. You can wait here if you like.”

  “What I’d like,” Robbie said, and slipped his hand into Priest’s, sensing his need for comfort of some sort, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, “is to come with you to find Julien.”

  Priest looked down to their joined hands, and then he raised his eyes back to Robbie, who gave him a pointed look, daring him to tell him he couldn’t.

  “Very well. Let’s go.”

  Priest weaved the two of them down several halls and through too many doors to count, and as they went, Robbie tried to resist the urge to gape at everything.

  The place was like a museum with trinkets and mementos all over the walls, from expensive artwork to stunning furnishings in each room, and when they finally stepped into the kitchen and found it empty, Priest braced his hands on the island and shook his head.

  “Hey,” Robbie said, and came up by his side. “I’m sure he’s close by.” In relative terms, because honestly, he had no idea how big this house was.

  A fierce frown pulled between Priest’s brows as he scanned the gourmet kitchen. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  Robbie put his hand over Priest’s where it rested on the granite counter. “Well, you’re the one who said this weekend was a hard one. So it’s probably just—”

  “No. It’s not that,” Priest said, as he continued to look around. “It’s too quiet. It feels…empty.”

  Robbie scrunched his nose up as he looked around, and couldn’t deny that. He’d just compared it to a museum. It was quiet and empty. It felt—

  “Unlived in,” Priest said, then he walked around the counter and headed over to the double-wide stainless-steel fridge, which he opened, revealing—absolutely nothing.

  “Fuck.” Priest’s curse echoed off the slate floors and tiled walls, as he stood staring at the cleaned-out fridge. “They’re not here,” he said under his breath, and then louder, “Those fucking assholes aren’t here.”

  Oh shit, Robbie thought, as Priest slammed the door shut. He’d never seen him so furious. The anger was rolling off Priest in waves as he came back to the center island and planted his hands there.

  Robbie assumed Priest meant Julien’s parents, and considering the reason they were there, the fact that Julien’s parents had bailed was really fucking shitty.

  “We’ve got to find him,” Priest said, with a determined set to his jaw and a grim line on his lips. “If we split up we have a better chance.”

  Right. Robbie agreed. But then he remembered how big this place was and wondered if finding Julien would be as easy as just deciding to go and do so. Who knows how many nooks and crannies this place has? “Umm,” he said, and fidgeted with his hands. “I…I might get lost here. How many rooms are there exactly?”

  Priest came over to Robbie and put a hand on his shoulder. “A lot. There are three levels.”

  “What?” Robbie said, his eyes close to bugging out of his head. “Three?”

  “Yes. The stairs and elevator connect them all. I’m going to check the other two. You stay on this one. That way, you won’t get lost.”

  “Okay,” Robbie said, and wasn’t sure that made him feel better. There was a high possibility he might go missing on this level alone. Who lived like this?

  Priest gave a clipped nod, and as he went to walk by him, Robbie reached out and took hold of his arm.

  “What…” Robbie paused and thought over his next words carefully. “What do I say if I find him?”

  Priest pivoted until they were practically standing toe to toe and took Robbie’s face between his hands. “You’ll know. The one thing we’re both in awe of is how perceptive you are when it comes to us. As if you instinctively know what we need from each other. What we need from you.” Priest pressed a gentle kiss to Robbie’s lips and said, “Trust yourself. It hasn’t led you wrong yet, has it?”

  Robbie shook his head. “I just don’t want to make anything worse.”

  “That’s not possible. Text me if you find him or—”

  “I get lost and need food?”

  “Or that,” Priest said, and he turned on his heel and left, and the both of them set out to find the man who was the most lost out of all three of them.

  PRIEST HEADED BACK in the direction of the living room to where he knew the elevator was, and with each step he took, his anger rose.

  Where the fuck were Julien’s parents? Priest had no idea, but they were lucky they weren’t anywhere he could get his hands on them, because he felt murderous.

  God, he couldn’t even imagine what Julien must be feeling. It was bad enough when he was there and they acted like he didn’t exist. But to vanish without letting your son know you were going? That was some bullshit.

  As Priest stormed down the hall, he walked past Julien’s father’s study and came to a stop. He glanced inside and scanned the bookcase and desk, the lamp in the corner, and the oversized chair by the window.

  The place was spotless, as though the house were a display home. There was no laptop or desktop computer, no papers or pens. There was nothing—anywhere. No personal belongings in sight, and the air had a stale feel to it. No one had been there in months, and that was becoming more and more obvious with every step he took.

  Julien didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this. What had happened all those years ago had been tragic. It had been a moment of stupidity by siblings that had ended horribly. Julien dealt with the consequences of that night every day of his life, and though Priest hated the need Julien had to come back here each year, he understood it.

  He understood that this was where Julien felt her the most, that this was where the connection was the strongest for him, and any time he’d tried to avoid it, Julien’s mental state slowly deteriorated until he reverted to what he knew numbed the pain the best—copious amounts of alcohol and weeks of self-loathing. It was a cycle Priest never grew used to witnessing and one he was at a loss to help fix, because how could you fix what had happened in the past?

  The answer was simple—you couldn’t.

  Priest stabbed the up button, and when the elevator door opened and he stepped inside, he hit the button for the third floor and then leaned against the wall.

  Where are you, mon cœur? he thought, as the elevator began to move, and then he closed his eyes, remembering the first time Julien had broken down in front of him, and only hoped that he or Robbie got to him before that happened.

  IT WAS NEARING the end of a grueling workweek as Priest sat back in his chair and cracked his neck from side to side. He was in the middle of adding his final notes to the Miller case he’d finally wrapped up after months in court, when there was a knock on his
office door.

  “Come in,” he called out, and glanced up from his computer.

  Helena, his PA, opened the door a crack and stuck her head inside. “I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re getting ready to head out for the week.”

  “That’s fine. Is there a problem?”

  “Uh, well, there’s someone out here asking for you but…”

  As her words trailed off, and she started to look uncomfortable, Priest sat back in his chair and said, “But what, Helena?”

  She slipped inside the office, shut the door behind her, and said softly, “I think he’s drunk.”

  “Drunk?” Priest got to his feet. “Who is it?”

  “Umm, he said he was your friendly neighborhood car thief?”

  That damn Frenchman. “Right,” Priest said, and walked around his desk. “You can send him in.”

  Helena’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure? I can have security escort—”

  “Helena?” Priest said.

  “Yes?”

  “You can send him in. I know him.”

  “Oh. Okay,” she said, and turned to walk back to the door. When she got there and opened it, she stopped and looked back. “If I misspoke, I’m—”

  “You didn’t. I wasn’t expecting him, but it seems he’s already had a rough day, so I best see what he needs. You can head on home, though.”

  “Are…are you sure? I can wait for you,” she said, sounding less than convinced that leaving was a good idea.

  “Yes. Go ahead. I’ll head out after I take care of this.”

  “Very good. I’ll send him in.”

  Priest gave her a clipped nod and watched her go, and as the door shut behind her, he buttoned his jacket and took a moment to wonder how Julien had found him, and why he was plastered by five on a Friday.