Confessions: Julien (Confessions Series Book 2)

by Ella Frank

  Losing some of his attitude, Robbie said, “Oh, well, I wasn’t always this fabulous, you know. I’ve had my fair share of heartbreaks. I had one just last year.”

  “Nathan, wasn’t it?” Julien said, and Robbie looked back to him and nodded.

  “Yes. But we aren’t talking about him right now. In fact, it’s probably best we don’t ever talk about him.”

  “I disagree,” Priest said, and then looked over at Julien.

  “As do I. Our past shapes us, princesse. Whether we want it to or not. Especially this imbécile de Nathan.”

  Robbie snorted at that and began to twist the hem of his shirt between his fingers. “Okay, I’ll tell you about him—one day. But not tonight. Tonight, we’re talking about Jacquelyn, and I want to hear more. If that’s okay?”

  Priest reached out and took Julien’s free hand, and as they all sat there, somehow or other connected, Julien nodded.

  “Of course it’s okay. Now, where was I?”

  “You were trying to find her,” Robbie said with a grin. “It was spring break.”

  “Oh, oui, you’re right…”

  WHEN JULIEN REACHED Jacquelyn’s door, he knocked and called out, “Are you up here, ma petite poulette? Mom and Dad want to talk to us—”

  “WAIT A SECOND,” Robbie said, and then grimaced. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  “Yes, we can tell by the way you keep doing it,” Priest said, but Robbie just rolled his eyes.

  “I am sorry. But that sounded like something important, and I don’t want to miss anything. I’m learning, remember? What’s ma petite poulette mean?”

  Julien nodded. “’Ma petite poulette is what I call Jac—pardon. It’s what I used to call Jacquelyn. It means ‘my little chick.’”

  Robbie reached out to squeeze Julien’s knee and whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Non, it’s okay. I’ll use English from now on, so you don’t miss anything else important.”

  Julien then rested his hand over the top of Robbie’s and continued.

  HE PUSHED OPEN Jacquelyn’s door and spotted her sitting on her window’s bench seat with a window cracked, the phone pressed to her ear, and a long, thin cigarette between her lips.

  She glanced guiltily over her shoulder, her long, dark hair waving down to the middle of her back, and when she saw it was just him, she motioned for him to hurry up and come inside.

  Julien shook his head but stepped into her room and shut the door behind him.

  “I’ve got to go, Léa, Julien’s here.” Jacquelyn paused, and then laughed at something her friend had said. “You wish. But you aren’t his type.”

  Julien rolled his eyes and picked up the book lying open on the wicker reading chair in the corner of her room—Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. He’d given her that for her birthday years ago.

  “Now that he’s single, though,” Jacquelyn said with a giggle, “your brother Clément might stand a chance.”

  Julien picked up the cushion, also on the chair, and threw it at her head, and Jacquelyn poked her tongue out at him.

  “Yes, yes, I know. Bye.” She ended the call, then stubbed out the long cigarette and reached for an old candle. She dropped the stub in and put the lid back on.

  “You’re reading Little Women again?” Julien said as he walked across the room. “What’s this? The millionth time?”

  “Probably, but you know how much I love it,” Jacquelyn said and then quoted. “’Some books are so familiar, reading them is like being home again.’”

  “I know.” Julien couldn’t count how many times he’d had to listen to their mother read that book over and over to Jacquelyn as a child. He inspected the frayed spine and worn edges of the hardback. “This copy is almost worn out.”

  “This copy,” she said, as she took it off him, “is my favorite, and I won’t let you speak badly of it.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Although I do question the fact that your favorite book is about having sisters…”

  Jacquelyn laughed. “Of course you do. But you shouldn’t. Whenever I read it, I always think about how each of them is somehow like us in a way. And yet there are four of them and only two of us. How lucky are we?”

  “I’ve always said the luckiest.”

  “Exactly. This book just proves that. Plus, I kind of see myself as Jo and you as Meg, so don’t worry, I manage to put you in there, even as a sister.”

  “Meg? Wasn’t she the—” As Jacquelyn hopped down from the window, Julien spotted the packet of cigarettes on the sill and picked them up. “When did you start smoking these?”

  “Ugh… Meg was the beautiful but forever responsible one,” she said, and then shook her head. “You sound just like Dad. Not my brother who I worship and adore.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, but eyed her closely, letting her know that she wasn’t off the hook just because, in this particular instance, she was right. He was the responsible one, whereas she was the impulsive and reckless one of the two. “You can stop kissing my ass. I’m not going to rat you out.”

  “Oh, good,” she said with a grin, and then kissed his cheek. “I just wanted to try one, that’s all.”

  “One?” Julien said, and looked at the rectangular packet in her hand.

  “Yes. One…packet.” She headed over to her dresser, where she picked up a bottle of perfume and sprayed it all around the place and then walked through it.

  Julien coughed and waved his hand in front of his face.

  “Shit, spray a bit more next time,” he said, and when she turned toward him and held it up with a devious glint in her eye, Julien glared at her. “Don’t even think about it or I’ll tell Mom where she can find evidence of this new little fad you’re going through.”

  “It’s not a fad. It’s…sophisticated. Chic.”

  “Sure it is,” Julien said as he walked over to her bedroom door. “Until you get cancer. You might want to spray a little more of that stuff. Mom and Dad want to talk to us. Sounded important.”

  “Really?”

  Julien nodded. “I hope they haven’t changed their minds about Nice. I really want to get away for a couple of weeks.”

  “Because of Timothée?” As the two of them headed down the hall to the stairs, Jacquelyn slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. “Stop worrying about him. If they do decide to stay here for break, I’ll introduce you to Clément. He really is your type, much more than Timothée. Clément is tall, sporty…kind of an ass sometimes. But I think you’d get along great.”

  “I think I’ll pass. He doesn’t sound anything like my type,” Julien said, shaking his head.

  “He’s everyone’s type. And anyway, it might do you good to date someone with more confidence, instead of some quiet little thing like Timothée. You’re so smart and hot.”

  Julien screwed his nose up at her.

  “As if I wasn’t going to add that,” Jacquelyn said. “We’re twins.”

  Julien sighed. “Look, I like…quiet people. I’m quiet.”

  “No, you’re not. You just think you are.”

  “Well, don’t you at least think it might help me to date someone who is gay?”

  “Oh, did I forget to mention that Clément is one hundred percent about the cock? Well, he is. Surprise.” She winked at him.

  “You are not setting me up on a date, Jacquelyn. Please tell me you haven’t already.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s Léa’s seventeenth birthday next week and Clément is nineteen. Again, perfect. There’s nothing sexier than an older guy. They know what to do—or so I’m told.”

  As they walked toward the kitchen, where their parents waited, Julien rubbed a hand over his face, the idea of a blind date making him feel nauseated. “Remind me again why I love you?”

  “Because…” she said, and kissed his cheek. “We’re twins. Duh, you have to. Or it’s like not loving half of yourself.”

  Julien laughed and shoved her in the arm
. “Fine, I’ll come to the party. But that’s it. I’m not promising anything else.”

  “Okay, okay,” Jacquelyn said, and then they both walked over to the small island in the kitchen where a plate of freshly made macarons sat. No doubt from Aurélien earlier that morning.

  “There you both are,” their mom said as she, and their dad, came into the kitchen. She walked over to Julien and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “We need to talk to you.”

  “Yes,” their dad said, and nodded. “We do. It’s concerning my job. You see, at the beginning of the month, I received an offer for partnership at Bartlett & Latham.”

  Julien looked at their dad, shocked by what he’d just heard. Isn’t that… “The firm in America?”

  “Yes. The one I worked for when you were both little, and have continued working for by correspondence over the past few years. I’ve thought about it and discussed it at length with your mother—”

  “But…” Jacquelyn interrupted, and then stopped as though her brain were trying to catch up with what he was saying. “But what does it mean if you take a partnership there? We live here.”

  Julien didn’t need their dad to explain, though. He already knew the answer. They were going to move—to America. That was what they wanted to talk about. And all he could think was how everything in his life was about to change…again.

  “That’s what we need to talk to you about,” their mom said as if on cue, and squeezed Julien’s arm. “Instead of going to Nice for spring break, how would you feel about Los Angeles instead?”

  “AND THAT’S HOW I ended up here,” Julien said into the otherwise silent room.

  Priest was regarding him with an attentive but cautious expression, and Robbie looked as though he were waiting for him to say more. That, however, was all Julien found he could talk about right then, because everything that came after that led him to an ending he’d rather not get into detail about tonight.

  “You two sounded like me and my sisters,” Robbie said, a wistful expression crossing his face. “And believe it or not, I’ve had to sit through Little Women too. I think it’s a rite of passage for mothers to read it to their daughters. We were just the unfortunate bystanders.”

  “I think you might be right,” Julien said, and then heard himself add, “I’d like to meet them one day. Your sisters.”

  Robbie screwed his nose up and then started to laugh. “Uh, full disclosure. They’re kind of crazy, just like Jacquelyn was.”

  As soon as he said it, Robbie froze. The use of past tense was a destroyer of all things light and playful, as the reality of why Julien had been talking about Jacquelyn in the first place crept back in.

  “Nooo…” Priest drawled, making both men snap out of their moment and turn to look at him. “I don’t believe that’s possible. You have crazy siblings? But you’re so levelheaded and reserved.”

  The tension in the room leaked out then, like the air from a pinprick in a balloon, as Robbie moved up to his knees and shoved Priest in the arm. “You’re just so funny tonight.”

  Priest caught Robbie’s wrist and tugged on it until he was crawling up on the couch between them.

  “That’s me,” Priest deadpanned. “An absolute riot.”

  Julien caught the seriousness in his husband’s eyes as he pulled Robbie onto his lap, and knew that Priest was casually steering them away from a topic that was starting to make Julien’s anxiety spike.

  Robbie burrowed into the crook of Priest’s arm, and Julien pulled his legs up over his thighs and ran a hand up and down the material covering them.

  This is nice, being here like this, Julien thought, as Robbie reached for his hand and entwined their fingers.

  “Thank you,” Robbie said, when Julien looked his way.

  “For?”

  “For sharing a little bit of her with me tonight.”

  Julien leaned over as Robbie sat up, and then took his face between his hands and kissed his lips. “Thank you for listening.”

  “Anytime,” Robbie whispered, and as Julien went to pull away, Robbie added, “I mean that. Anytime, Jules. I’m not going anywhere.”

  As Julien nodded and sat back, he felt Priest’s eyes on him and looked up to see him placing a kiss to Robbie’s head. He’d lost that cautious expression he’d had before and now wore one full of adoration and wonder, and Julien knew it was for both himself and the man now covering a yawn.

  “That’s actually a lie,” Priest finally said, and Robbie pulled away to look up at him. “You are going to bed. We all are. Last night was rough. Today was long. And I think we all need a good night’s sleep.”

  Robbie snorted. “Says the man who doesn’t sleep.”

  “You know what I mean. Don’t be mouthy.”

  “Or?”

  “Or,” Priest said as he shifted forward on the couch, “I’ll turn you over my lap and it will be just as difficult for you to sleep tonight as it will be for me. But for very different reasons.”

  “Fine. I am a little tired. So I’ll behave,” Robbie said, and then looked at Julien. “When is he going to understand that a spanking is so not a threat?”

  But before Julien could answer, a delighted squeal left Robbie, as Priest surged to his feet with him in his arms.

  “Why, Mr. Priestley,” Robbie said, and placed the back of his hand on his forehead, imitating a swoon, “first the threat of a spanking and now this high-handed behavior. I demand you put me down right this instant, you brutish man.”

  One of Priest’s eyebrows rose as he stared down at Robbie. “Brutish?”

  As Robbie began to laugh, Julien stood beside them.

  “Yes, you know? Savage, beastly, roguish. Ohhh,” Robbie said, and looked at Julien. “With this beard, he totally looks like some rugged Scottish Highlander who throws logs in his spare time. Doesn’t he?”

  Julien walked up to stand opposite Priest, so Robbie was being held between them, studied Priest’s handsome face, and nodded. “I was just thinking earlier that he looked very roguish tonight in this lighting.”

  Robbie plastered an I told you so smile on his lips and aimed it up at the man they were discussing.

  “You’re supposed to discourage him, Julien,” Priest said. “Not encourage.”

  Julien ran his eyes over the bold angles and strong features that made up the face he loved, and then he leaned across Robbie to brush a kiss over Priest’s lips. “When he’s right, he’s right.” Julien kissed Robbie and squeezed Priest’s bulging bicep. “I’m going to grab a quick shower before bed. I’ll see you two in there.”

  Priest gave a clipped nod, and Robbie did also, both men understanding that Julien needed a moment to collect himself after today’s events. And as he headed off to the shower, Julien heard Robbie whisper, “Will he be all right?”

  And Priest, honest as always, replied, “Eventually.”

  Chapter Eight

  CONFESSION

  Hold on to me, s’il te plaît.

  I’m falling.

  AROUND FORTY MINUTES later, Julien jolted in his sleep and reached for the sheets to catch himself on the spiral down.

  Sleep had claimed the three who were now showered and entwined under the covers. But as two drifted off into mindless slumber, Julien’s thoughts had wandered away from him. Away from the room, and men, who’d distracted him tonight, and into the darkness, where old ghosts had once again found him.

  “That was a nice picture you painted tonight, Julien. But not a very accurate one. Did you really think I’d gone away?”

  Julien shook his head on the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish her voice from his mind, but it was no use. As his pulse sped up, his body shook, and sweat popped out on his brow.

  You’re not real, he thought, and curled his fingers around the sheet like it was a lifeline. You’re not real.

  “Aren’t I?” the familiar voice taunted. “Then why am I still here?”

  At the familial term, Julien’s eyes shot open and he b
rought a hand up to his chest. He couldn’t breathe. Fuck. He was losing his mind.

  He blinked several times, trying to focus on the room he knew he was in, but all he saw were shadows dancing across the ceiling. Shadows taking form in the shape of the one who now haunted him.

  “You will never be free of me. Tu comprends? I’m the crime that you committed. This face, not the bright-eyed girl, but this. The one you want to forget. I will always be here. Always…”

  Julien’s brow was drenched now, his heart thumping a mile a second. But other than the blood rushing around his head, the only other sound in the room was that of the two beside him, breathing evenly in their sleep.

  Oui, focus on them, he told himself, and shut his eyes again. This is just a nightmare. She’s not real. She’s not here. But as he rolled to his side, Jacquelyn’s pale face and lifeless eyes were right there staring back at him.

  “But I am, aren’t I? I am the guilt inside your head.”

  Julien’s mind screamed out in denial, and he brought his knees up to his chest and covered his face with his hands. “You’re dead.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  A shudder racked his body, and as tears escaped Julien’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks, he whispered, “Mine…” and then prayed that guilt, sleep, or whatever it was he deserved would finally come and claim him.

  ROBBIE WOKE WHEN Julien shouted out and flinched on the mattress beside him. He opened his eyes and blinked until he could make out Julien’s form, and saw that he was lying on his side facing away. He was further than he’d ever been before, and from the look of the sheet, Julien was curled in on himself, as though protecting his body from someone or something.

  A bad dream? Robbie thought. Or maybe…Jacquelyn? That was the name he’d called out. Usually, Julien slept so well compared to Priest, and Robbie wasn’t sure what he should do next. Leave or wake him?