My heart fell. As much as he wanted to fuck me, he still couldn’t promise me anything beyond that damnable contract.
“We could have the best year of our lives, Carly. It doesn’t have to be a lie.”
Using what strength I had left, I pushed him over to the side. “Then how come it is?” I muttered before I grabbed my clothes and escaped into the bathroom. I slid down the door and used my weight to brace against it when he came knocking, which he did mere seconds later.
“Carly, what the hell is wrong with you?”
I shook my head, though he couldn’t see. “You thought I had forgotten the wager,” I said instead. “You were just trying to win.”
“I was just trying to make love to you,” he growled. He tried the handle. Then he knocked into the door with what sounded like his shoulder. His voice quieted. “Let me in.”
“No.”
“Carly. Open the door.”
“No!”
“What are you doing to me?” he exploded as he slammed his fists against the door so hard I thought he might burst through completely. “You work me up and then shut me out. One of these days you’re going to slam the door shut and I won’t bother trying to knock it down.”
My eyes closed. So did my throat. “I know.”
“Fine,” he growled. “I’ll go get the fucking screwdriver.”
I could hear him stomp out of the bedroom, and I was scared shitless that he’d make good on his threat. I didn’t move from that spot, afraid if I didn’t use my weight to brace the door he’d break in. And if he broke in, I’d be defenseless. If he picked me up in those arms and carried me to that bed, I’d fuck that man despite all my common sense screaming at me not to.
I wanted him. My body still hummed with the pleasure I had found at the tip of his tongue. I could feel imprint of his erection against me. All I wanted was to open myself to him, let him inside, and forget where I ended and he began. The longer it took for him to make good on his threat, the more I worried that he wouldn’t need that screwdriver to open the door. I’d throw it open myself and launch right into those arms, even if it meant I lost everything.
He didn’t come back in five minutes, or even ten. After a while, I wondered if maybe he had left the house entirely like had done several times before. Would he do that with Gabby there?
Curiosity got the better of me and I opened the door. The bedroom was empty. The bed was still askew. I fixed my top as I made my way quietly from the room. I went to the kitchen first, because I figured that was the most logical place. We kept a small tool box under the sink. I opened the cabinet to see if it was still there. It was, so I moved it to see if I could find the screwdriver. Instead I found some wrappers that had been concealed by the small red box. My brow knit as I retrieved them for closer inspection. They were candy wrappers, and some were old enough that ants had crawled inside.
It all felt painfully familiar. So much so I left the wrappers where they were, as not to alert whoever might be leaving them behind that they had been uncovered.
That was familiar too.
I headed towards the stairs. I could hear Eli’s voice, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The tone was warm, though, and comforting. As I reached the hallway, I spotted the open bathroom door with light spilling out from inside. There Gabby was hunched over the toilet, with Eli bathing her face. “Is everything okay?”
His eyes met mine. They briefly scanned my body with a hunger I knew hadn’t yet abated, but other priorities took precedence. “Gabby’s sick. Too many rides at the park.” He continued to bathe her pale face. I took quick inventory of the room, noting the toothbrush that sat on the side of the tub next to the toilet.
Because where else would you keep a toothbrush?
I just nodded anyway, yet another lie.
“I think I’m going to stay upstairs with her,” he said. I could tell he was still mad. Or frustrated. Or both. And now he was worried about his sister, too.
“Of course,” I said, and left it at that.
I didn’t voice my concerns until the next morning, when I called Clem at the earliest convenience. Eli hadn’t come back to our room, so I had privacy. I knew I’d need it. She listened quietly as I voiced my concerns.
“Are you sure you’re not just projecting?” she asked in the gentlest, most loving way possible. “She did eat a lot of junk yesterday. And she rode the bigger rides. Twice,” she added for emphasis.
“Maybe,” I said. “But the toothbrush…”
I could almost hear Clem shrug. “Maybe she was brushing her teeth and gagged, then forgot to drop it when she ran to the toilet. Was it there the first time?”
I scowled in frustration. “I can’t remember. But what about the wrappers?” I persisted. “She can eat whatever she wants. Why does she need to hide anything?”
“How can you be so sure it’s her? Maybe it’s the cleaning lady.”
I sighed. She was right. Maybe I was projecting. “Maybe. I guess. I don’t know.”
“Keep an eye on it,” Clem advised. “You know the warning signs better than anyone.” She was quiet for a moment, and then asked the question I had been dreading. “Did you tell Eli about Wyatt?”
“No, and I never will.”
“Carly,” she started, but I was quick to cut her off.
“I gotta go,” I said, and then disconnected before she could say any more. I hoped beyond hope that I was wrong about Gabby, because I would have to intervene. I’d have to tell Eli what was going on. And I’d have to tell him how I know.
That wasn’t going to happen. Ever.
So I began my covert mission instead, paying special attention to those things that had previously stuck in my head but I had dismissed, like Gabby’s frequent showers. I also watched her food consumption. Though she wasn’t technically overweight, rather just dealing with some leftover baby pudge that just hadn’t figured out where yet to settle, her food habits were indeed peculiar. On a normal day she avoided food, like skipping breakfast or eating a really light lunch. By the time dinner rolled around, she had a voracious appetite, and no wonder. She had been starving her body all day. She drank a lot of water, and took handfuls of pills that, when asked, she swore were vitamin supplements.
I stopped myself just short of going through her room to make sure.
But that very next day followed a similar pattern. She opted to avoid breakfast, claiming her stomach still hadn’t recovered from the night before. Eli encouraged her to eat some oatmeal or something bland and substantial, but she said she was still too nauseated to think of food.
Yet by early afternoon I found two more candy wrappers, stashed behind the tool box.
Clem came over shortly after, bringing Jonathan and Leah with her. This gave the kids some cover to hang out on the beach without being busted by the paparazzi, who had so far been fooled by my strategic plan. Clem and I donned our bathing suits to join them, so Eli followed suit. He was still pretty mad at me for the night before, so there was tension in the air. His jaw clenched as he scoped me out in my two-piece. Maybe he felt like I was teasing him, which is essentially what I had been doing this entire time. I hadn’t planned it to work that way. But every time he made a move, I was less and less averse to it, sometimes letting it get way out of hand before I came to my senses.
Like the night before, for example. My body still hummed like a neon sign when I thought about it. Having his mouth and his hands on my body, knowing just where to touch, just what to do, until I was mush under him… it was so much more than I could have ever dreamed. I had dismissed him as an asshole, assuming this meant he really had no skills. Why would he need them, especially looking like he looked? Women would have climbed him like a jungle gym; he wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.
It was clear he had learned where to put his finger, and his tongue, and his mouth… and whatever else sprang to attention whenever he’d kiss someone like he kissed me.
I shuddered again. He was one tal
ented asshole.
Clem clearly sensed the tension between us, but said nothing. She said nothing about Gabby, either, though I could tell she was watching her with renewed interest. Thanks to Jonathan, who was quick to engage with her and make her feel welcome and accepted, Gabby stayed in control all night.
Then dinner came. The kids decided we should eat pizza, and each had their own preferences for the pies. Eli, ever the gracious host, bought four different pizzas to accommodate everyone’s particular taste, which we served in the media room so the kids could keep playing their video games.
In between kicking Jonathan’s butt, I watched Gabby grab four slices of pizza throughout the night. Two more were missing by the time I consolidated the boxes to store the leftovers in the fridge.
I stayed up late after everyone left that night. When Gabby went to bed around ten, Eli called it an early night too. I opted to watch some mindless TV. Basically I was waiting to hear the shower, which finally turned on around midnight. I crept silently up the stairs and padded over to the bathroom door. I craned my neck, putting my ear against the door.
My stomach dropped when I heard the violent retching noises through the thick wood.
I was on the phone in a second, texting Clem. “I was right.”
Clem texted back with a frowny face emogi. “I know.”
I leaned on the door, tears running down my face. I cried for Gabby, because I knew all too well the pain she was going through. I knew what it was like to live that double life, to be chased by the demons of perfection all while maintaining an illusion of control. I cried for Eli, who was going to have to console himself that his perfect, beloved sister has some serious problems to fix, or else he might lose her.
I cried for me, because this was the last place I had ever wanted to be again. Just hearing her vomit was enough to trigger painful memories. I could hear the echo of long-dead lies, which very nearly destroyed me once upon a time.
They were lies repeated by those who were supposed to love me the most, who ultimately—even unconsciously—made me feel like the very least.
It had taken years of therapy and a move out west to make me feel somewhat normal again. But in that moment, I knew I was one binge away from losing myself.
Somehow I knew that telling Eli the truth could trigger that one event. I held myself together as best I could and walked to our bedroom.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Though the room was dark, Eli was awake when I walked into the bedroom. His eyes followed me but he remained stone still as he watched me circle the bed. He was waiting for something, likely an apology—one I probably owed him for being such an indecisive bitch. Did I hate the man? Or did I love him? And why, on most days, did it feel like one and the same?
It was madness. That was what it was.
I stood helplessly by the bed. “Can we talk?”
He crossed his arms behind his head and rested his head on his palms, adopting a casual demeanor even though those blue eyes were as hard as chips of ice. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Gabby,” I said softly.
He narrowed his eyes, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Your dime,” he said, just as soft.
I sat down on the bed before I ripped the bandage right off. “I think Gabby might be developing an eating disorder.”
That got his attention. He straightened a little. “What makes you say that?”
“I’ve noticed some troublesome patterns. I’ve seen it before,” I said, as generically as possible, “and I just thought you should be aware. She trusts you. Maybe you can help her.”
He sat up, angry with me all over again. “Of course I can help her. But there is nothing wrong with her. But she’s fine. She’s a great kid.”
“Eating disorders are far too complex to dismiss as a character flaw, Eli. You can’t think of it like that, no matter what size she is. It’s not a failure, it’s… it’s a way for these individuals to deal with bigger problems.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Some kids, girls and boys alike, feel out of control, and food is one thing they can control. It’s complicated. There are a lot of issues often associated with it. Depression, genetics, sometimes it runs in families, sometimes it’s the result of abuse,” I said, swallowing the rock in my throat. “There’s something already wrong. They’re just trying to fix it.”
“But she’s not super skinny,” he insisted. “She’s still carrying baby fat for fuck’s sake.”
“Obesity is often the result of an ED,” I told him warily. “It’s not a moral weakness or behavioral flaw, Eli. It’s just a…,” I struggled to find a word, “fucked up coping tool.”
“What does she have cope with? She’s a kid. Her folks are loaded. She’s got me, and I fucking worship the ground she walks on. Where’s the big problem?”
I shrugged. “She was talking about a boy.”
He cut me off with a growl as he sprang out of bed. “Please. She’s ten.”
“She’s a preadolescent,” I corrected. “Puberty is coming, Eli. The hormones are in play. Look at her. She’s already developing.”
He spun away from me. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“I know,” I told him as gently as I could. “I don’t want to say it.”
“So why are you?”
My throat constricted. “To save her.”
He turned towards me, stalking slowly to where I stood. “Is that it, really? Or do you just want another free pass for being a cock-tease?”
My palm itched to slap him, but I took a deep breath instead. I tried to remind myself he wasn’t mad at me. He was mad at the situation.
Well, maybe me a little bit. So I tread softly.
“Eli, this isn’t about us.”
He glared down at me. “Isn’t it? You go into this relationship spitting and hissing like a cat, telling me that you’d never fuck me. But you keep getting closer and closer, yanking me around on your damned chain, making me believe you want it every bit as much as I do.” His voice dropped. “Why should I trust you now?”
“Because I’ve never lied to you, Eli. Not once. And I’m not lying about this.”
“Never lied? What the hell was last night?” he muttered between clenched teeth.
“A mistake,” I told him. He grabbed my arms in both of his hands.
“You drive me crazy, Carly Reynolds. You talk about webs and traps, but this has never been my web to spin. It’s yours. And I swear to God, if you’re using my sister to fuck with me,” he started, his fingers biting into my skin.
“I’m not, Eli,” I vowed, staring deep into his eyes, hoping he could read that and nothing else. “I’m scared for her. I just want you to, I don’t know. Keep an eye on her. If I’m crazy, then tell me I’m crazy. I don’t want this to be true any more than you do. And I mean that, Eli. One hundred percent.”
“How the hell can I believe anything you say?” His gaze drifted lower, landing on my mouth. “You do lie, Carly. Every day. Every minute. You’re lying to yourself, trying to convince yourself that you don’t want this. This, right now, you… and me. A kiss close enough to taste,” he added in that maddening seductive way of his. His eyes practically swallowed me whole, searching for any crack in the veneer. “Yesterday you told me you wanted me,” he said, and I gulped hard. He annunciated every syllable when he asked the one question I didn’t want to answer. “Did you mean it?”
Our eyes met. There was no way to back pedal. He had felt the truth in my kiss. If I lied now, it could undermine everything I said about Gabby. “Yes,” I finally answered in a faint, breathless whisper.
He pulled me closer. “Do you still want me?” he asked, adding “Sunshine,” with an evil tilt of his mouth.
I glared at him. He had said exactly the right thing to keep the walls up and my anger engaged. I supposed Eli Fucking Blake could at least be counted upon for that. “You said one question.”
He studied my face for a moment befor
e he leaned forward to whisper, “So I did,” a breath away from my lips, wearing that familiar infuriating smirk.
He thrust me away before he spun on his heel, grabbing his robe from the foot of the bed as stalked from the room.
Apparently he had bunked once again with Gabby, because he didn’t return to the bedroom all night. I stayed awake most of the time, my heart in my chest, waiting for him.
The next few days followed the same annoying pattern. Eli had erected the tent in her bedroom so they could have campouts every night. Every day he managed to coax her into eating her three meals, but it was a struggle, particularly during the day when she had her strict eating schedule in place. I removed the scale from the main bathroom upstairs, just in case. I already knew what a ball and chain that could be, particularly when one was paranoid about gaining any weight from eating any bite of food.
After about a week, she was getting grumpier by the day. She had wanted to feel in control but everything was spinning out of her control. She finally snapped at Eli the Friday before we were supposed to fly to Colorado. I could hear her scream all the way across the house. “Why are you policing me? What’s wrong with you?”
He tried cajoling. “I’m just trying to get as much time with you as possible. We haven’t had some serious brother/sister time since you got here.”
It only backfired. She accused him of using her to screw up one of his relationships yet again.
“I’m just looking out for you!” he had yelled.
“I can look after myself!” she yelled back. “Why should California be any different?”
That night Eli returned to our bed. Our eyes met as he climbed in, but he said nothing as he lay on his back, subconsciously mirroring my rigid position. When we heard the shower within an hour after he had come to bed, we shared a look.
“Tell me what you know,” he finally conceded.
I told him about the wrappers, and the toothbrush, and about how she used showers as a cover so no one knew she was vomiting. “It’s all secrets and lies right now. The only way to fix it is drag it out into the light.”
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