Keeping Secrets

by Lisa Eugene

  I turned back to Alexa with a whoop of triumph, expecting her to make some wisecrack about my dubious cooking skills.

  She stood back, eyes wide and terrified, body visibly shaking.

  Quickly, I tossed the pan with the steaks on top of the stove and turned off the broiler. In two strides, I was at her side.

  “Stats? Hey, are you okay?”

  She didn’t answer. Her teeth were clenched tight and a sharp breath hissed rapidly between her lips. She stood rigid, face as pale as a bleached sheet. Instinctively, I pulled her into my arms, and then all hell broke loose.

  Her mouth opened and a shrill scream rent the air. She struggled wildly against my hold. I dropped my arms and stepped back, wondering what the hell was going on. She trembled like a scared child, and the brittle vulnerability outlining the sharp distress on her face broke my heart.

  I followed her gaze that was still arrowed on the broiler and realized that the fire must’ve upset her. Moving close again, I loosely draped my arm around her shoulder, absorbing her constant trembling, the spiteful rhythm of her muscles contracting and releasing.

  “Everything’s okay. The fire is out,” I assured her, gently turning and leading her out of the kitchen. I breathed out relief when one foot moved woodenly in front of the other.

  Out in the living room, I nudged her to the couch and brushed her hair back, pulling her gently into the curve of my body. This time she didn’t fight. Her eyes seemed clearer now, less haunted and unfocused. Her Exorcist impression hadn’t scared me, but seeing her like this had icy fear needling my back.

  “It’s okay, Stats. The fire is out. It was just a small grease fire.”

  Tears swam in her eyes and I wondered if she’d even heard me. She still seemed very shaken. Small. Uncertain.

  I held her tight as seconds ticked into minutes. Eventually, she stopped shaking and relaxed against my chest. I kept holding her, cradling her softness, feeling a need to slay something. My face tightened with worry.

  She cleared her throat. “Sorry I freaked out. I-I hate fire. I always have, since I was a child.”

  “Were you in a fire?”

  She took a while to answer. “No, but I was burned very badly once. I was helping my mother cook.”

  Pulling back she looked down at her palms, then silently held them up. The skin on the inside of her hands was smooth, almost glazed, but irregular in some spots. Both hands looked like they’d suffered very old burns. I’d never noticed. I reached out and traced the smooth skin gently with a finger, fighting a strange urge to pull her palms against my lips to kiss them, erase the scars.

  Instead, I tucked back the shiny waves that had escaped her ponytail, looking at her beautifully unguarded expression. We were so close that her warm breath stroked my jaw.

  “It’s okay. Everyone has a fear of something. For some people it’s spiders, snakes, heights; for you it’s fire. No biggie.”

  “You must think I’m a complete idiot.” Her thick lashes lowered.

  “Not at all.” I smiled, taking note of her choice of words. I’d been calling myself an idiot all evening. “You know what I’m afraid of?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “Look around.”

  Her head swiveled left, then right. I followed her gaze to a pile of poorly concealed clothes bundled under a wooden table.

  A delightful smile crinkled her eyes. “A washer and dryer?”

  I laughed, happy to have her back.

  “Funny. I was going to say a clean apartment,” I exclaimed. “Shit, we’re starting to think alike.”

  “That’s awful!”

  “That’s awful!”

  We’d both said the words at the same time. We just stared, grinning.

  Two grinning idiots.

  Chapter Nine

  Dex

  It seemed that the holiday season started even before November rolled in. I couldn’t go anywhere without the jingle of bells and the in-your-face spreading of holiday cheer. Bah humbug! I hated this time of year and usually tried my best to inundate myself with work, to smother painful memories.

  My secretary, Linda and I were just finishing up with the itinerary for my upcoming two-week trip to China when Henry poked his head through the door.

  “Got a minute?” he asked as Linda left.

  He sauntered toward my wary look, trying to gauge my mood as he stood in front of my desk.

  “It’s almost the twentieth. Are you okay? Do you want to make plans to come over? We can get shit-faced like we did last year.”

  “I’m fine,” I replied firmly, not wanting to head down that path.

  Henry seemed to accept that for now. “Have you made a decision about investing in the pharmaceutical company?”

  “I’m going for it.”

  Silence. A rarity for him. “You’ll be okay with that?”

  “Yes,” I said firmly, but I knew Henry wasn’t reassured. “Quit being a pain in my ass!” I snarled, unable to tolerate his quiet scrutiny.

  He laughed and clucked his tongue.

  “I have to say, Mr. Sunshine, you’ve been in a much better humor lately. Almost like the old Dex.”

  “Then something must be very wrong.”

  I focused on my computer screen, knowing already which path he was choosing this time. So far, I’d been able to avoid his direct probing about Alexa, but that was only because I hadn’t been around much.

  “I stopped by the penthouse last evening,” he informed me, hopping on the desk and swinging his feet like a kid.

  “You did?” I asked, even though I knew he’d been there. He’d dropped off samples of Vodka from a client who owned a distillery I was heavily invested in.

  “I left goodies.”

  “I saw them, thanks.”

  “But you weren’t there.”

  “I was out.”

  “Out?”

  “Yes. Out.”

  “Hmm…with Alexa, again?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s the second night this week.”

  I pursed my lips, feigning ignorance. “Is it?”

  “You know damn well it is,” he huffed. “Friends shouldn’t keep secrets from one another.”

  It was actually the third night, but I wasn’t about to correct him.

  “I’m not keeping any secrets.”

  “Oh, come on, Dex, you see this girl almost every night.”

  I screwed up my face. “I don’t see her every night. Are you jealous?”

  Henry rolled his eyes. “As if. Believe me, I’ve got plenty of meat for my sandwich. Fess up. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I laughed when he looked unconvinced. “We’re just friends.”

  “Friends with benefits? She didn’t strike me as that type of girl.”

  I raised my palms, shaking my head. “No, it’s not like that. We’re friends, purely platonic.”

  “You? Seriously?”

  I chuckled lightly. It was hard to believe myself. I’d never spent this much time with a woman I hadn’t fucked. In fact, I wasn’t one to spend time with women at all. But Alexa was different. Her benefit was her companionship, her laughter. I actually looked forward to hanging out with her.

  “You haven’t had sex with her?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” I stated firmly.

  I’d been trying to convince myself that Alexa had nothing to do with the painful erection I’d been waking up with every morning. The annoying condition was most likely because I hadn’t gotten laid in a while.

  I tried hard not to think of her sexually. Being a guy, that took a tremendous effort, but I was afraid if I surrendered to my nagging fantasies, I’d ruin our unique relationship. I tried hard to banish her from my thoughts whenever I took care of my pesky morning issue, but it proved difficult.

  She was beautiful, and so unintentionally sexy that it made it somehow hotter, the ache sweeter, the burn more tormenting. My body had a mind of its own. Just the sight of h
er, sometimes, could give me a raging hard-on. More than once I’d had to untuck my shirt, slip into the bathroom to talk myself down, or rush home to rub a quick one off.

  “You sure there’s nothing going on?”

  “Absolutely.” I nodded firmly. When he tapped his chin pensively, I knew there was something else on his mind. “What’s up your sleeve?”

  A mischievous grin split his face. “Do you remember Tom’s co-worker, Abby?” When I frowned, he gave an exasperated whistle. “You met her at our last party—the one you attended for like five minutes.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I nodded, but in truth, all I remembered were her tits and legs.

  “She wants a set-up. I didn’t say yes because I didn’t know if you had a thing with Alexa.”

  I was shaking my head before he reopened his mouth. His eyes narrowed slyly. “Why not? If there’s nothing going on with Alexa, what’s the big deal?”

  I didn’t know why the thought of going on a date didn’t sit well with me. I’d said I was done dating, but that didn’t mean sex was out of the picture. I’d been crawling out of my skin lately and had been finding my current methods of release pitifully lacking.

  I wondered vaguely if Abby would be interested in a nostrings, sex only arrangement. Surprisingly, that thought did nothing to spike my interest, either. I did recall talking to her briefly. She had a really hot body, had offered it to me in the way she moved and smiled. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember much about what she looked like.

  I rubbed a hand along the back of my neck. Alexa’s image came to mind and all I could see was her, all I could hear was the ring of her laughter, all I could feel was that tightness in my chest when those beautiful eyes latched on to me.

  “I’m about to go to China for two weeks,” I offered lamely. “I’m too busy.”

  That was the truth. I was busy getting ready for my trip. I had plans to go running with Alexa tomorrow, but other than that, I had three days to catch up on work and get my shit together.

  I was looking forward to seeing her. We’d had dinner last night and the evening had ended early. She hadn’t been feeling well. When I’d called later, she’d claimed she was better, but had still sounded strange to me. Her somber monotone had been contrary to the cheerful voice I’d grown used to.

  “Tom says great things about her.” Henry was still talking.

  I blinked, staring at him blankly.

  “Who?”

  He flung his arms up in frustration. “Are you even listening to me? Abby?”

  I grimaced, then sighed heavily. “I’ll think about it.”

  Henry hopped off the desk and winked. “Let me know, Mr. Sunshine.”

  I sat staring silently at the door, wondering why I wasn’t more enthused about this opportunity.

  Chapter Ten

  You weren’t thinking, Alexa. You let your thoughts stray.

  Sorry, Daddy.

  You should always stay focused.

  Sorry, Daddy.

  Tell me. Do you not deserve to be punished?

  Y-yes, Daddy.

  Alexa

  I dreamed about Jake again, only this time the words didn’t get stuck in my throat. They stumbled out in garbled, twisted, nonsensical babble. The only word I could make out was “sorry”, which rolled off my tongue over and over, flipping only to come back again. But Jake wasn’t listening. His bright smile morphed to a sudden, exquisite sadness, then like smoke, he evaporated before my eyes.

  I awoke sometime late afternoon, sweating, and gasping, and clutching at my throat. My face was wet with tears and I could feel the rush of blood in my head. I threw off the covers and staggered naked into the bathroom, in the midst of a panic attack. My stomach roiled with nausea. I made a beeline to the toilet.

  Hunched over, my sore ribs protested. My belly still ached from last night’s purging. I held my hair to the side and heaved as a strong wave of nausea shot a pulse through my body. There was nothing in my stomach. I’d thoroughly emptied it when I’d gotten home from dinner last night.

  Dex and I had indulged in a delicious tasting menu at a five-star restaurant. We’d had another amazing night of laughter and good-natured arguing. I’d eaten until I thought I’d burst, until guilt had made an appearance, sat at my table, and shook a finger in my face. Everyone had watched me. Judged me. All the beautiful people had snickered as the fat cow filled up her face. The bathroom hadn’t offered much privacy, and I’d been shaking by the time I’d gone back to the table, my anxiety peaking. Feigning a stomachache, I’d rushed home to purge. I’d also taken a laxative in case some dinner had made it past my stomach.

  I hated lying to Dex. He was attentive and considerate, a great friend. We had fun together, whether it was just sitting idly on the couch, or going out for the evening, but there were things I just couldn’t share with him.

  There were places inside me I had to keep locked away, hidden from him.

  There were places inside me I had to lock away from myself.

  My shoulders tightened again. Wracked by another spasm, I heaved into the toilet, frowning when I saw blood. Thinking I might’ve scratched the back of my throat, I swallowed, trying to find a spot of irritation. There was nothing unusual.

  I was usually very meticulous about purging. I made sure to wash my hands thoroughly beforehand, giving extra attention under my fingernails to reduce the risk of sore throat or infections. I also kept my nails extremely short to prevent accidental scratches or nicks. I knew some people could purge without using a finger, and although I’d tried, that was never a skill I could develop.

  My purging was becoming more frequent, my worries sharper and more acute. Some days I felt stifled, could hardly catch my breath from the tremendous weight sitting like a boulder on my chest. When Dex was away, it was easy to slip into a dark place, a place that paralyzed me and kept me in bed for whole days at a time. I’d wake up to study, then go back to bed. I’d attend class, then come home to my bed. This had been a very stressful year for me and I feared the tapestry of my life could unravel at any minute. There was so much at stake. I was teetering on an edge, worried which way I’d fall, worried that I’d crash and burn.

  I waited for the spasms to pass and the small shakes to lessen before I tried to walk to the sink. Pulling open the medicine cabinet, I popped a few antacids. I weighed in, expelling a spurt of joy at my two-pound weight loss. The choking aura of my dream suddenly vanished.

  I sent a prayer up to God for Jake as I found my backpack and pulled out my class schedule. I had late lectures today and the rest of the evening would be devoted to studying. Dex and I had plans to run in the morning and I couldn’t wait to see him. He was the singular spark of joy in my life, a light that pulled me from the shadows.

  By the next morning, I was feeling much better. I sat on the couch and dialed my home number. I’d tried calling my mom yesterday and hadn’t reached her, and was now starting to worry. I hadn’t spoken to her, except for a brief phone call a week and a half ago. It wasn’t like her to go a whole week without calling. She answered on the third ring and relief washed over me.

  “Mom! I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  “Hi, Alexa. I’m running out to the supermarket. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. I’ve been worried about you.”

  She laughed a little, but her voice sounded brittle. “I’m fine, hon.”

  “Are you sure, mom?”

  I frowned when I heard a brief hesitation on the other end.

  “Yes, yes, I’ve just been a little busy trying to get ready for the holiday.”

  Thanksgiving was in a few weeks, and even though we had a small family, my mother always made a fuss. She would spruce up the house and prepare a huge meal. She always said it was her favorite holiday because it reminded her to be thankful. I promised to go by on the weekend to help her get things ready. I could tell that made her happy. Even though Dad was there, she never liked to bother him, but I didn’t want her trying to take care
of the house by herself and getting injured.

  The doorbell rang as I was talking to my mom. I scooted off the couch and pulled the door open to find Dex filling the doorway. He was early, but I smiled, happy to see him. He waved, and seeing that I was on a call, quietly stepped into the apartment. I mimed a few hand signals letting him know I’d be wrapping it up soon. He nodded and went straight into the kitchen. Ready for our run, he was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt even though it was early November. Still in a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and sweatpants, I had to change.

  I watched him take a carton of juice from the refrigerator and then open the cupboard for a glass, noting how comfortable he was in my tiny apartment. His was huge, an extravagant space. My entire apartment could probably fit into his living room. He took over my space, stirred the air with his presence. His T-shirt stretched across his broad chest and molded over strong, muscular shoulders. I remembered his naked chest dusted with fine hair, his defined pecs, and his stunning six-pack. His legs were long and sculpted, sprinkled with dark hair. They looked strong and powerful. I knew he hit the gym a few times a week, as well as ran two or three times. It definitely showed. His body was any woman’s wet dream.

  I listened to my mom recite her grocery list while my eyes drank him in. He still needed a hair cut—now even more so. His thick, dark waves tumbled about his head and curled a little at his nape. He caught my gaze and sent me a wink, smiling as he tossed back the glass of orange juice. God! Something inside me melted, some vital organ that I needed to survive, because my entire body went weak.

  I looked away, wondering what the hell this wonderful, gorgeous man was doing in my apartment. Why did he spend so much time with me when he could be rolling around in bed with some equally attractive female? I saw how women ate him up with their eyes, knew they fantasized about riding his big body to ecstasy, knew they imagined him drilling wildly into them. I let that notion stew longer than was wise, but he looked incredibly capable. He was a big guy. I’d bet he was big all over.