Girl Abroad

JACK AND I FREEZE AT THE SOUND OF LEE’S VOICE.

Well, as much as we can freeze with Jack still shuddering from release and my mouth still working him.

“Fine,” Jack grunts at the locked door. “I’m all good, mate— ” He groans again. My attempt to release him causes him to push his dick back in. “Don’t stop,” he whispers. “Suck it dry.”

Oh my God.

If I’d known earlier how deliciously dirty Jack was, I would have tried to get him naked much sooner.

My heart is pounding as I continue to stroke and suck him through his orgasm.

“Babe…” Behind the door, Lee’s muffled voice takes on a note of amusement. “Are we having a wank?”

“Something like that,” Jack growls, his body finally going still.

When I peer up, I see the haze of satisfaction darkening his blue eyes.

There’s a pause, followed by a gasp.

“Do you have a bird in there? Oh my God!”

“Pipe down,” Jack chastises our roommate while one corner of his mouth lifts in a grin. “Abbey’s asleep down the hall.”

I smother a wave of laughter and rest my cheek against Jack’s rock-hard thigh. His fingers are still in my hair, stroking gently.

“I expect details tomorrow morning,” Lee orders. “Understood?”

“Go away, mate,” Jack says instead, his voice firm.

Once Lee’s footsteps retreat, I sit up and demurely wipe my mouth. “You’re going to be interrogated tomorrow,” I warn Jack. “Like, waterboarding levels of grilling.”

“Worth it.” He tugs me toward him to plant a kiss on my cheek.

I nestle closer, reaching for the soft fleece throw at the foot of his bed. I pull it over us and rest my head on his shoulder.

“Wish you could spend the night in my bed,” he says.

“Lee wakes me up with a cup of coffee every morning. He’ll legit call the cops if he finds my bed made and me missing.”

“At least stay till I fall asleep then?”

My heart melts against my rib cage. He keeps lowering his guard around me and it’s…exhilarating. It’s a weird thing, Jack’s inner defense system. It’s not the same as Nate’s guarded nature, which is a result of Nate not trusting other people. Jack doesn’t trust himself. I’m not sure why that is, but it’s becoming clearer the more time we spend together.

The mattress suddenly vibrates, tickling my leg, and I reach down to find the source.

“It’s your phone. Here,” I say, passing it to him.

Jack checks the notification and there’s no mistaking the way his entire body tenses.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“All good.” With a quick motion, he swipes the notification away. “Just an email.”

Something about his vague answer raises my own guard. “Who’s emailing so late?”

Jack leans over to set his phone on the nightstand, then wraps his arm around me again. “Mate from school. He’s a night owl.”

It doesn’t sound like a lie, but it also kind of does. I decide not to push, because at the end of the day, it isn’t really my business. We’re not exclusive, and I’m not his girlfriend.

I push my rising unease away and force myself to focus on snuggling and pillow talk.

“You heard from your brothers lately? Any update on the evil Bree?”

“They’re still broken up, far as I know.” He sounds pleased. “Shannon says she and Mum went out for a secret celebration dinner.”

“Dude. No wonder you’re too scared to bring women home. They really hated this one, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” His hand moves over my shoulder in an absent-minded caress. “They’re protective is all. We’re a tight-knit clan. Always looking out for one another.”

“Honestly, that sounds wonderful. Being an only child is lonely. And I didn’t even get to grow up with both parents. Dad and I are close, but sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like to have a mom and dad in the same house, maybe a couple of siblings.”

“It’s nice,” Jack admits. “Chaotic, certainly. But nice.”

“How old were you when your dad died?”

“Six. Things got rough after he passed. Real bloody rough. Noah became the man of the house at the ripe old age of ten. Shannon was only a toddler.”

“I can’t even imagine how difficult that must have been for your mom.”

“It was bad for a while. There’s a decent welfare system in Sydney, but not the best. Other family members tried to help out, but they weren’t exactly wealthy themselves. By the time I was thirteen, I was working three jobs. Two under the table for cash.”

“That does sound rough.” I squeeze his hand in sympathy.

“Yeah.” He speaks in a faraway tone now. “Never really got to be normal like other lads. I mean, of course, we partied. Raised hell when we got the chance. But keeping the family afloat came first. Helping Mum out was more important than anything else. Girls, parties. None of that mattered.”

Curiosity tugs at me. “What about the girl you were dating in high school? You said it was a steady thing.”

He hesitates.

“Sorry. You don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shrugs. “There was one girlfriend. Lara. She was fantastic. And I…” I feel his chest dip as he swallows. “I let her down, over and over again.”

I suddenly remember something he’d said the day we went for that drive. About how there are standards you need to meet when you’re in a relationship. How he’s never been able to meet them.

“Is that why you think you’re bad at relationships?” I sit up with a slight frown.

“I was a shit boyfriend. I stood her up on her birthday.”

“Seriously?”

“It wasn’t intentional. I was supposed to get off early at the surf shop where I worked to take her out, but two of my coworkers called in sick, and the manager said he’d pay me overtime to stay. I figured I’d make it up to Lara, but she wasn’t having it.” He laughs without much humor. “I tell you, I’ve never had a verbal beatdown like that.” The laughter fades as he bites his lower lip. “She said I was the most selfish person she’d ever met.”

“You had to work. It’s not like you ditched her on her birthday to go joyriding or kangaroo hunting or whatever it is you Australians do down there.”

“I could’ve said no to my manager. I didn’t.”

“Your family needed you.”

“So did Lara. It was her birthday, for fuck’s sake. Anyway, that was one sin among many. I made heaps of promises to her that I didn’t keep.”

I reach for his hand, lacing our fingers. “You had responsibilities. If she couldn’t understand that, that’s on her, not you.”

“Either way, I hurt her. Badly.” Regret flickers through his expression. “It felt like shit, hurting somebody I cared about.”

“And you’re scared you’ll do it again?”

“Sort of, I suppose.”

I rub the inside of his palm with my thumb. “Want to know a secret? You will.”

“I will what?”

“You’re going to hurt someone again.”

He looks startled. “What?”

“You are,” I say simply. “We all are. I’m sure I’m going to hurt many people during my lifetime. Not maliciously. Or maybe, sometimes, it might be malicious. Maybe I’ll say something in anger that I’ll regret afterward. But it’s going to happen. Human beings are wired to hurt each other.”

“Well, aren’t you depressing,” Jack says with a smile.

“But you know what else humans are wired for? Forgiveness. So yeah, you’ll probably hurt someone again the way you hurt Lara. But if you’re lucky, they’ll forgive you.”

“Bloody hell, Abbs. Why do you have to be so…”

“Amazing?” I supply, waggling my eyebrows.

I’m joking and expect him to respond in kind. Instead, he pulls me into his arms and lays a deep, blistering kiss on me.

“Yes,” he agrees when we break apart. “Amazing.”

“Jackie boy had a bird over last night,” are the first words to exit Lee’s mouth when I saunter into the kitchen the next morning.

Man, he’s such a gossipy snitch.

At the breakfast bar, Jack eats his pancakes and ignores Lee’s announcement, but I notice the way his broad shoulders tense.

“Holy shit,” I exclaim, conveying the appropriate amount of shock and awe. “Wow.” I raise one eyebrow at Jack. “She must be really special if you invited her here.”

He bites his lip, slowly meeting my gaze. “She might be.”

My heart almost bursts in my chest.

Oh no.

I’m catching feelings.

Okay, that ship sailed a long time ago, I have to amend.

But before this moment, those were basic-level feelings. The I -really-like-you tier of emotion.

This is the next tier. I’ve officially graduated to that floaty, happy cloud between the two L words.

God. I’m in over my head.

Luckily, Lee distracts me from my troubled thoughts by grilling Jack with the kind of steely determination rivaled only by the KGB. To his credit, Jack holds his ground, but Lee is still badgering him when I duck out of the kitchen after breakfast.

I get ready for school, gathering all my research notes for the Tulley project, which I’m supposed to update Professor Langford on this morning.

Speaking of the Tulleys, a text pops up as I’m zipping my school bag.

Sophie: Abbey, Sophie Brown here.

Me: I know. I saved your contact info 🙂 What’s up?

Sophie: I need to arrange to ship that box of documents to my office. Benjamin’s father has agreed to donate some of the documents to the museum in Surrey. Benjamin said you already made copies and have no need for the originals anymore, correct?

Me: Yes, that’s correct. Are you in the office this morning? I can drop the box off before class if you’d like. Saves you the shipping costs.

She doesn’t seem enthused at the prospect of seeing me in person, but Ben’s office is literally around the corner from the building that houses my morning classes. We agree to meet before my first class, and I grab Ben Tulley’s box and leave the house a few minutes later.

Lee and I take the Tube together. I’m worried he’ll want to gossip about Jack’s new lady love, but he simply chatters on about Eric and the weekend trip they’re taking to some spa in Paris. They’re getting hot and heavy, those two. I like seeing Lee happy.

A short while later, Sophie meets me in the lobby of Ben’s office, a converted three-story town house with a nondescript white exterior. There’s a lift, but we’re only going to the second floor, so Sophie gestures for us to take the stairs. Despite wearing high heels, she ascends the steps like she’s walking on air, while I struggle to carry the box and at the same time try to keep the strap of my messenger bag secure on my shoulder.

“How is the research going?” she asks.

“Not well,” I admit, hating the reminder. The Josephine portion of my project has completely stalled, leading me to a maddening dead end.

Upstairs, there’s a large reception area and a pair of mahogany doors leading to what I assume is Ben’s office. Beyond the doors, I glimpse a commanding desk, built-in bookshelves, plush chairs, and expensive carpeting. A second office is tucked off to the side of the waiting area, and it’s there that Sophie takes me. This space is smaller but actually appears lived in, whereas Ben’s office looks like a room in a model home that nobody uses. All for show.

Something suddenly occurs to me. “What does a lord do?” I blurt out.

“I’m sorry?”

“For work, I mean. I know Ben’s father is the one who runs the estate and all that, but what exactly is Ben’s job? What does he do?”

“Not much” is the muttered response.

“What?” I glance over in surprise.

“I said, ‘So much,’” Sophie repeats, a wan smile firmly in place.

I call bullshit. She totally said not much. And that note of disdain wasn’t missed either. Methinks someone doesn’t like their boss.

“Lord Tulley runs a nonprofit,” she explains, taking the box from my hands to set it on her desk. “As well as sits on the board of two foundations.”

“Oh. Okay. That does sound like a lot.” I gesture to the box. “Please thank him again for letting me dig through all this stuff. It’s helped so much.”

“Are you any closer to solving your mystery? Benjamin filled me in on the Josephine saga.”

“Nope. Dead end. All I know is she was a maid who was probably involved in a love triangle with two Tulley brothers. I have no idea what happened to her.” I give a hopeful look. “Ben is traveling again, right? The last time we spoke, he mentioned there might be more documents in the cache at their Ibiza house.”

Her expression hardens again at the mention of Ben. “I’m sure he’ll reach out if he discovers anything else of use.”

I fidget with the strap of my bag. “Okay, great. Anyway. I should be going.”

“Yes. I’m afraid I must also be off.”

We leave her office and head back for the stairs. It’s awkward again, and I find myself making dreaded small talk to fill the uncomfortable void.

“Any big holiday plans?”

Sophie spares me a brief look before continuing her descent. “I’ll be spending Christmas with my dad, as I usually do.”

“Oh, me too.” I offer a tentative smile. “He’s basically my only family.”

At that, her face softens. “I’m in a similar situation.”

“Does your father live in the city?”

“No. He’s in an assisted living facility thirty minutes south.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Is he sick?”Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

“Early-onset Alzheimer’s.” Sorrow creases her features. “He’s fifty-three. The symptoms started in his late forties.” Her voice catches just slightly. “He’s aged so much these past five years. Almost unrecognizable now.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again, my heart aching for the pain I see in her eyes. “That must be really difficult for you.”

We emerge from the stairwell and enter the airy lobby.

“It’s not the most pleasant of circumstances,” she admits. “But I’m grateful he’s well cared for. The facility he’s in is the best in the entire country.”

“That free health care has its perks, I suppose.”

She gives a derisive laugh. “Oh, darling. Our health care system is good but not that good. I pay for private care out of pocket. It’s a substantial amount, but as with you, my father is my only family. I refuse to put him in a government-run place.”

I don’t blame her. I would only want the best for my dad too.

“I’m sorry,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a sensitive subject.”

“You didn’t know.”

At the door, we hesitate again. The truth is I like her. She’s elegant and interesting and clearly very intelligent. The kind of woman I would like to be friends with.

So I feel compelled to say, “About the ball…”

A frown touches Sophie’s lips. “What of it?”

“I know what you must think of me. I mean, you found me and your boss in a, um, compromising position. But you should know, I was grateful for the interruption. I drank a lot of champagne that night. Seemed like a good idea at the time to let a lord kiss me at a royal ball, but I’m glad it didn’t happen.”

Skepticism flits across her face. “Are you?”

“Yes,” I say truthfully. “I got caught up in the moment. But I’m not interested in Ben that way. Besides, I already have my hands full with my own love triangle.”

“Is that right?” I think I see a twinkle of humor in her eyes.

“Yes.” I groan. “But that’s a story for another time. I’m going to be late for class.”

“Right then.” She holds the door open for me.

“Please let me know if Ben discovers any more secret Tulley papers that might be useful, because I could really use another breakthrough. Although at this point, I’m going to need a miracle to solve this mystery.”

My breakthrough comes later that day and from the unlikeliest source.

On my walk back to campus after lunch, I get a call from a London number I don’t recognize. To my amazement, it’s Mr. Baxley.

“I found your number in the student registration,” he says, answering my obvious question. “I wanted to inform you I have some pertinent information regarding your research.”

I suck in a gust of frigid air. “Really?”

“I took it upon myself to conduct some further study, during which I managed to locate a living descendent of Josephine Farnham.”

Excitement courses through me. “Here? In London? That’s incredible.”

“She’s called Ruby Farnham. She indicated she has some documents you might find useful, and she’s willing to speak with you. If you’d like to come by the library, I can give you her contact information.”

Holy shit. This is fantastic. If anyone can put the final pieces together and hopefully tell me what became of Josephine, it’ll be her living relatives.

“Mr. Baxley, you’re truly a credit to your profession,” I blurt out, my voice ringing with gratitude. “Thank you. You’ve saved my life.”

“Yes, well.” He clears his throat to mask his characteristic discomfort. “Don’t leave me waiting all evening.”

As we’re hanging up, I get a text from Nate, which drags me right back down to earth. He’s back from Dublin and wants to meet up.

Immediately, a pang of guilt twists my gut. I think about what I was doing last night and with whom, and that tight, uncomfortable sensation intensifies.

My generation is constantly being told to embrace sexual empowerment. Love the way you want to love. Fuck who you want to fuck. Get married or have casual sex. Be polyamorous or monogamous or ethically nonmonogamous. I constantly hear these terms being thrown around, and I want to be that unfettered person, the one who doesn’t feel guilty about dating multiple people.

But I don’t think I am.