Keeping Secrets

by Lisa Eugene

  I heard the far-away drone of running water. The growing buzz of unease vibrated like a jackhammer over my skin. My gaze landed on our empty plates. The thoughts saturating my brain were unbelievable, preposterous, even to me. I couldn’t deal with Henry now.

  “Alexa knows more about my past than anyone.”

  “I am just—”

  “Henry, I can’t talk about this right now.” My head swiveled toward the sound of water running, my attention focused on one thing: what the hell was going on in that bathroom? Quickly, I scribbled my name on the contracts. I’d already reviewed them electronically on my flight back from L.A. “I have something I have to take care of,” I said, hurrying toward the door. Henry followed me, taking back the envelope I shoved at him.

  He looked pained. “I’m sorry if I upset you. You know how I feel about keeping secrets. It’s never good for anyone.”

  I nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”

  Closing the door, I turned toward the hall, the rushing water now a roar in my ears. Hadn’t she said she was going to make a quick phone call? I’d heard that too many times before. I cursed as more thoughts flooded my brain, drenching the sponge to a bloated fullness. I thought about all my time spent with Alexa, even our first evening at the pub near her apartment. She’d disappeared that night, too, and again it had been right after we’d eaten.

  What if I was wrong? Something didn’t feel right. But what if I was wrong about my suspicions? Alexa would think I was crazy. It might shatter our relationship to levy such an accusation. At first, I was afraid that maybe she was doing drugs—the anxiety, the tremors in her hands, but that didn’t fit Alexa. She was too driven, too focused on school and her career for that.

  I took a moment to calm my breathing. I didn’t know shit about this subject. Finding my cell, I pulled up a few things online. As I read, my jaw clenched tight and my heart beat out a sickeningly sluggish rhythm. Mingled with that was the pounding my conscience had just taken from Henry about keeping secrets. My brain soaked in just the few things I read and it all horrifically came together. Anger and pain rushed through me like a charging locomotive, the terrors of my past speeding toward my future.

  Son of a bitch! I tossed down the phone and stalked down the hall.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Do you know how to keep a secret, Alexa?

  Yes, Daddy.

  Good. You can never tell.

  Okay, Daddy.

  You will be judged, mocked, disgraced.

  I won’t say a word, Daddy.

  That’s my girl.

  Alexa

  I couldn’t empty my stomach completely or the shakes would take too long to subside, and I didn’t know how long Henry was going to be here. I’d had a good week. I was down five whole pounds. So happy! I smiled, wondering if Dex had noticed. Despite all the stress with my father, I’d managed to stick to my diet. It was because I’d been off from school and Dex hadn’t been around. He loved going out to dinner or ordering in. His appetites were large—in and out of the bedroom.

  I still had to close my eyes when we had sex. Although I loved being with him, I had a hard time watching my fat ass bounce and twist into the various positions I’d find myself in. Ugh! I don’t know how Dex endured looking at me.

  I flushed the toilet, then sprayed and meticulously cleaned the seat with Lysol. Stepping to the sink, I brushed my teeth and flossed quickly, then reached into my handbag to find the antacids I always carried with me. I stuck a few in my mouth along with a mint. Peering into the mirror¸ I examined my pale, homely face.

  My eyes were red from straining and the salivary glands beneath my neck were slightly swollen from overstimulation. It would take about an hour or so for them to return to normal size, but they were hardly noticeable. I swore beneath my breath as I turned off the faucet. I’d forgotten to bring Visine with me for my eyes.

  I splashed cool water over my face and passed a towel briskly over it, hoping to spring life into my dull skin. Checking my sweats again to ensure I hadn’t splashed them, I put on my glasses and stepped out of the bathroom.

  Dex was standing outside the door. I startled and smiled as I moved past him into his bedroom.

  “Did Henry leave?” I asked casually.

  He didn’t answer. I turned, brows raised, and the look on his face shocked my heart to stillness. His jaw line was razor-sharp. His eyes narrowed, watching me with an intensity that was frightening. He was still shirtless, but he’d donned a pair of blue jeans.

  His hands landed at his hips. His broad shoulders tilted forward slightly as he carefully scrutinized my face.

  I looked away, my heart still silent in my chest. The look on his face terrified me.

  “Stats, look at me.”

  Heeding his hard tone, my gaze trotted back to his face.

  “Stats, are you bulimic?”

  My breath stopped along with my heart. Were any of my organs working? I couldn’t seem to function. I forced a smile and laughed lightly, then adopted an expression of surprise irritation.

  “Dex, what are you talking—”

  “Don’t fucking lie to me!” he exploded suddenly.

  I blinked in slow motion, almost as shocked by his intense anger as I was by his question.

  “Of course I’m not! You’re being ridiculous,” I responded, now on the defensive. I started walking around his bedroom, looking for my clothes.

  He stalked toward me, like a panther chasing its prey. “Am I? It all fits! You disappear after you eat, you always have scratches on the back of your knuckles—what are they? Bite marks? You’re always cold, always shaking—”

  “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I ground out roughly, flipping over the comforter to find my pants.

  “You think I don’t know what’s in your purse? Toothpaste, toothbrush, mints, antacids, laxatives! I should’ve known something was up. I can’t believe this shit!”

  “Shut up. Just shut up.” I was at the bed, stuffing my things into the duffle bag I’d brought over. I was desperately trying to hold myself together, but my hands were shaking so badly they felt like they didn’t belong to me.

  Anger radiated off Dex like atomic heat. His muscles tensed as his lips pulled in a thin, pale line. I’d never seen him like this. He skewered me with his turbulent gaze before he started yelling again.

  “You’ve lied to me so many times I can’t keep track! And this…this weird thing you have about your body—what the fuck? Your oversized clothes…your…your big glasses. It’s like you’re trying to hide yourself. You want the lights off during sex. Don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about!”

  Every word dropped from his lips was a dagger through my heart, slicing little pieces at a time. It was agony. God, I was so stupid to think this relationship could work. It was only a matter of time before he saw who I really was. I’d let him get too close. I blinked back tears. I needed to get out of there, to stop the pain that bled through my body from the stab wounds.

  “Shut up, okay?” I whispered weakly, my voice a mere tremor.

  “I will not! We’re supposed to be best friends—lovers. I’d hoped even more than that, but you’ve been lying to me. Your bad dreams, your fear of fire, even that lame story about a cooking accident, and…and those burns all over your body—”

  “JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I wheeled on him, feeling the scream jump out of my throat. The bag slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. This nightmare rushed into my head, sickeningly vivid. Darkness filtered through my body like the fumes of thick black smoke. I couldn’t take it any more. I needed him to stop. My hands slapped over my ears and my lungs exploded. “JUST SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

  I barely registered Dex’s startled looked. Tears streamed down my face. I ran toward the door, needing to get away.

  In a flash, Dex was beside me, gripping my arm and spinning me around.

  “Stats! Stats!” His long fingers bit into my shoulders as he shook me. I re
alized distantly that I was still screaming. I couldn’t stop. So much emotion. So much pain. So much darkness. The room spun. Panic was taking over, forcing my lungs to constrict, to hyperventilate.

  “Stats! Stop it! Stop it! Fucking talk to me!” Dex was eye level, concern and apprehension pinching his face.

  I covered my face with my palms, shame clawing at me. Oh God, Dex! He knew. He knew. Oh, God! He could see it all now—my weakness, my lack of control, my lack of discipline, all my horrible ugliness. He’d know how close to the edge I was. He’d judge me. Hate me. Despise me. He probably already did.

  His big hands closed around my wrists and he dragged my palms from my face. I stared into eyes that seemed to reflect the pain in my heart. Dex’s forehead crunched in silent worry.

  “Stats…” he pleaded softly.

  I melted into his arms, my breath breaking with a sob. My arms slid around his naked torso, holding on so tight that my nails dug into the flesh of his back. His palm soothed my hair as I sobbed hysterically into his chest. We were planted in that spot for what seemed like an eternity, until I finally pulled away, wiping my face with my sleeve.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, lids lowered. “I’m so sorry. Don’t hate me.”

  A breath shivered out of his chest. His palm came up to caress my cheek and I leaned into it, needing his warmth, needing his light. Dex tilted my face and looked into my eyes. I thought at that moment he could see very deep inside me. I wanted desperately to turn away but I couldn’t wrestle my gaze from his.

  “Stats,” he said softly, looking anguished. “Stats, how could you not know?”

  I swallowed, my sluggish mind trying to follow. Emotion bounced light in his eyes. I shook my head, confused.

  “Kn-know what?”

  “How could you not know how much I love you?”

  Oh, God…My throat clenched so tight I couldn’t breathe. How could that be? My eyes starting leaking again. Fat, heavy tears trekked down my cheeks.

  I slid my arms around his back and cried silently at the honesty and devotion he’d infused into those words. My dad always said that love made people weak. He called it the hammer that shattered common sense and bludgeoned resolve. I was completely destroyed by Dex’s confession.

  “I love you, too, Dex.”

  His chest collapsed with a breath I hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His lips grazed my forehead.

  “How long have you been bulimic?” he asked softly.

  I bit my lip and blew out a breath. “A few months—four maybe,” I lied. It was now going on almost nine years.

  He pulled back and looked into my eyes. “Stats, you’re not fat. At all. I love your body. I’m always telling you that, right? Plus, God, can’t you tell by how often I want you? Just looking at you makes my dick hard. You’re beautiful inside and out. You’re sexy. You’re perfect the way you are.”

  I pulled off my glasses and wiped my eyes. I needed time to think. I didn’t know how to explain these feelings—this well that tunneled inside me. I hated my fat, disgusting body and still couldn’t believe that I turned him on. The amount of time my weight preoccupied my mind was maddening. I needed to be thin…but there was more…more going on inside me that I had a hard time capsulizing into words.

  Shit, I didn’t understand it all either, but the last thing I wanted Dex to do was to blame himself.

  “Dex. You’re wonderfully attentive. The things you do to me—the way you make me feel is amazing. If anything, you’re the one ray of light in my life.”

  You’ve kept the darkness from taking over, kept me from sliding over the edge so many times, I wanted to say.

  “How often do you throw up?”

  I shrugged, looking away. “Once or twice a week,” I lied. I was doing it almost every day now. This was the worst it had ever been. There was a time I’d gone months without purging. That had been before med school.

  I hated lying to him, but I had no choice. For some reason, Dex’s vision of me was beautifully clouded. He was peering through faulty glass, not seeing me, but someone else—another layer. He couldn’t see my flaws, and I wasn’t about to change his lens. I was already terrified that he’d gotten this glimpse.

  He sighed heavily, ruffling his hair. “Stats, you have to get help. You have to get treatment. You can hurt yourself. You can die.” His voice cracked and he blinked rapidly as if he was trying hard to keep it together.

  Fear blistered my throat. I hated seeing him so torn up, but panic started to grip me again. “No. I can’t. I mean…I have school. I can’t.”

  “Alexa—”

  “Seriously, Dex, it’s not that bad, really. I can’t go through seeing doctors and talking to people a—” I almost said ‘again’—“and all that…I can’t. I won’t. I have school. Oh, God, if it ever got out, I’d die. The stigma alone would kill me—my career. Everyone would know. I could lose everything I’ve worked hard for.”

  The thought of my classmates knowing my secret almost crippled me. Rhonda would have a field day with this information. She’d somehow use this as a way to get herself closer to valedictorian.

  He seized my shoulders again, anger widening his eyes.

  “Shit, Stats. This is serious.”

  “It’s not that bad, really.”

  “You have to stop.”

  I nodded fervently. “I will. I promise. I won’t do it anymore. It hasn’t been that long, and it was just to lose a few pounds for all the engagement parties. I’m fine, really. It’s no big deal. A lot of girls do it.”

  “That’s horrible, but right now I don’t give a fuck that a lot of girls do it,” he railed. “I give a fuck that you do it. You have to stop.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw as if with a life of its own. I didn’t understand his stark anger. He looked injured, almost grim. Pulling me against his chest, he held me tight, squeezing me.

  “Oh God, Stats,” he whispered. “I can’t lose you, too.”

  I settled into his hold, letting the rhythm of his body soothe the chaos in my head. I was devastated that he’d figured out my secret, still reeling from his confession of love, and shocked that he wasn’t tossing me out of his apartment, his life.

  How could this amazing, gorgeous man think he was in love with me? My heart stroked every beat for him, but I never thought I’d hear those words from his lips. I knew he enjoyed having sex and hanging out with me, but I didn’t think his feelings had tunneled any deeper than that.

  Happiness filled me. Fear emptied me. It was inevitable that at some point he’d come to the realization that he’d been wrong about me. At some point, the lens would clear and he’d see me. Fucked-up Alexa.

  He took my hand and led me to the bed. We sat on the edge and he faced me, drew my legs across his lap. His gaze zeroed in on mine.

  “You have to promise me that you’ll stop. From what little I’ve read, it can be very dangerous.”

  I gave a sober nod, surprised that he’d done any research at all. How long had he suspected? “I promise.”

  “And no more lies. I—I can’t deal with lies.”

  “I promise,” I whispered, my heart aching at the pain on his face.

  “I know that you can be very hard on yourself, especially when it comes to school.”

  I stared silently, listening intently to his words.

  “I’m very driven, too,” he continued. “After my mom left, I jumped around in foster care, from one horrible home to another. No one wanted to adopt an older kid.”

  “You eventually got adopted, though.”

  He nodded. “Yes. At nine. I never thought it would happen. And I set out to prove to my adoptive parents that they’d made the right choice. I worked my ass off in school. I did really well. I think I needed to prove to myself that I could make it despite everything that happened to me.”

  “And you did.”

  “Yes, my adopted parents left me a modest sum when they died. By the time I was twenty-two, I’d doubled it. I started i
nvesting, learning the stock market, day-trading. Eventually, I started my own business. But life keeps teaching me that success isn’t all about money, or fancy cars, or penthouse apartments.”

  “I agree. It’s more than that. It’s also about the lives we touch, about achieving personal goals.”

  “Medical school isn’t easy. Give yourself a break.”

  I chuckled dryly at his words, sighing. “I just didn’t grow up that way. I was taught that I had to be the best at everything I did. Anything less was unacceptable.”

  His lips firmed to a hard line. “Let me guess—your father.”

  I nodded hesitantly, uncomfortable broaching this topic. “He’s always wanted the best for me.”

  “No doubt,” Dex said, but his tone was accusing. “Forgive me, but he seems a bit harsh and unfairly critical.”

  I blew out a deep breath. My dad was a difficult man to unravel. Even I had trouble at times. I’d put up with a lot from him. Even though I harbored a lot of resentment, maybe even bald hatred at times, I understood his motivations. He loved me and did the best he could. I blinked back tears, trying to step back from memories I kept locked behind closed doors. Dex didn’t need to see those.

  “I’ve set high standards for myself because I want to do my best. My dad has always pushed me because he wants me to succeed. He knows I can be better than who I am.”

  “I love who you are,” he said softly.

  I paused, picking through my thoughts. “I have a vision for my future, Dex. Only through pain and perseverance can I achieve my goals.”

  “Pain? Perseverance?” He frowned. “Is that what your father taught you? He seemed to talk a lot about discipline, about control.”

  I nodded silently, wishing he’d drop it.

  “What’s his idea of discipline, Alexa?”

  My shoulders rose and fell.

  He took my hands in his, swallowing them in warm comfort before he traced the scars on my palm. He probably didn’t realize it, but worry sliced a chasm in his face. “What did he do to you?”

  I sucked in a deep breath, heart hammering my ribs. “Listen, my dad has his own way of thinking—of doing things. He was a strict disciplinarian. He can be extremely judgmental and self-righteously exacting, and he can be a real pain in the ass. He’s always been very protective of me and has had a hard time letting go as I’ve gotten older. We’ve butted heads a lot lately. But he’s still my father.”