Page 66 of Julien (Confessions 2)

“I’m serious,” she said, and laid her head on his shoulder. “Loosen up a little. Stop worrying about me and have fun your senior year. They’re all going to love you as much as I do. Je te le promets.”

But worrying was part of his DNA. Jacquelyn was born the wild child. She was easygoing and carefree, the life of every party she went to. She had zero inhibitions and was always up for a good time. Whereas their mom always joked that Julien was the nurturer, the protector, because he came out of the womb first. Quieter in nature but always ready to fight against the world to protect himself and all those around him.

The downside to that, though, was the stress that came with the worry.

“I mean it, Jules,” Jacquelyn said as she straightened up. “We’re going to have the best senior year ever, and then we’re going to kick college’s ass. You’ll become a famous chef and I’ll become”—she pursed her lips as though thinking it over, and then grinned like the devil himself—“a world-class, famous chef.”

That finally got Julien to laugh. “Oh, so you think you’ll be better than me, do you?”

“There’s no thinking about it,” she said as she walked backward toward the French doors. “You know it and so do I. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Julien scoffed and followed her inside. “Careful, petite poulette. It’s going to hurt sooo much more when I turn out better than you.”

“Whatever,” she said with a shrug. “But neither of us are going to turn out any way if we don’t find the kitchen in this place. Want to go look?”

“What about your library? I thought you’d be dying to find that next.”

“We’ll find that after. I mean, we’ve all got to eat, right?”

Julien nodded, and as they set off to find the kitchen, he decided he would make a conscious effort to do exactly what she had said. He would enjoy his senior year and not worry as much. He would adapt to this new lifestyle and embrace the culture surrounding him.

And embrace it he did. So did she over the next few years.

A little too well, some would say…

JULIEN STOOD IN the hallway he’d once walked down in search of his sister and stared at the empty tunnel that now greeted him. Not a sound could be heard inside the house, and as he made himself move, he found that was all he could do.

He supposed he should probably call out, announce his unwelcome presence to those he knew would be somewhere inside. But as he got further down the hall, all he could manage was putting one foot in front of the other.

Not much had changed over the years up there in the mansion. The walls were the same color, a cream that complemented the Tuscan villa feel, even if the house itself resembled nothing of the quaint homes that populated the Italian countryside.

The furniture was exactly as he remembered it. A long table ran down the hallway and held several mementos that his parents had collected over the years in their travels, and then off to the right, a gorgeous Louis XV-style settee and sofa sat facing the picturesque view of the Stone Canyon Reservoir, which right now had lights from other homes twinkling all around it.

It was so quiet up there tonight, and as Julien continued down to the kitchen, he realized it was…too quiet.

He headed through the maze of hallways in the direction of the place he was always drawn to, and when he reached it and stepped inside, the first thing he noticed was how immaculate it was, as though no one had set foot in it for days.

Non, Julien thought, as he went over to the fridge and opened it to find it empty. Not days, months. No one had been there in…months.

Julien’s hand tightened around the handle and he slowly shut the door and stared at the stainless steel that was so clean he could see a blurred reflection of himself in it.

They aren’t here, he thought, as he let go of the door and stumbled back into the island behind him. They aren’t fucking here.

As the cold, hard reality of that slammed into him, Julien brought a hand up and pressed the heel of it to his chest as it tightened.

Fuck. How could they do this? How could his parents not be there?

Without a word? Without warning?

They’d known he would be coming back. He always came back, even when they told him not to. Oui, and this time they made sure they wouldn’t have to see you.

As that thought echoed around his skull, Julien pressed his fingers to his forehead as though he could reach inside it and rip it free. But it was no use, it was in there on a loop that was determined to drum the truth—no matter how ugly it was—into his head.

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