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“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.
