Seal All Exits (Tangled Web #3) (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

THIS WAS NOT good—not good at all.  Kiefer was too sweet, too kind, too caring, and too thoughtful.

Heather could get used to him too quickly.

Yeah…this was
not
good.

But it couldn’t be helped.  She was going to enjoy him for now and then, as promised, they were going to go back to being friends only.  It would be tough, but it was the right—and the best—thing to do.

They enjoyed a long, slow shower together.  The best part was how he’d worked the conditioner through her hair, finger-combing the strands until they were unsnarled, while warm water rained on her breasts.  And then, after she’d rinsed off, she soaped up his back, massaging his muscles, fighting every urge inside herself to grab his ass and ask him to fuck her again and again.

It was a sweet moment and, for a change, she was hesitant to ruin it with her uncontrollable urges.

Yeah, there was breakfast to be eaten, but both of them seemed reluctant to join the rest of the group.  She was combing her hair, sitting on the edge of the bed, while he slipped his sneakers on.  When he was done, he scooted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.  He looked at the reflection of the two of them in the mirror and said, “God, you are gorgeous.”

Heather frowned.  Not only did she completely not believe it, she definitely didn’t want to engage in any conversation revolving around her looks.  She forced a smile and continued pulling the comb through her hair.  “No, I’m really not.”

She didn’t look at Kiefer to register the look he gave her.  “You
are
.  Why the hell would you even say you’re not?”

She couldn’t help the wry chuckle that forced its way up her throat.  “Because I’m
not
.  And I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Heather continued combing her hair and finally relaxed as she believed he was going to let it go.  She moved over to the dresser so she could get closer up to put her foundation on.  She heard him say, “That’s not a healthy way to think about yourself, Heather.  I think we
should
talk about it.”

She hoped she didn’t sound angry, but at this point, she almost didn’t care.  “If I can barely talk to my therapist about it, what makes you think I want to talk to
you
about it?”

He walked over to her, his voice soft and gentle.  “Because I’m your
friend
.”

She turned her head to the side and made eye contact with him.  A sigh escaped her lips.  After searching his eyes, she nodded.  “It’s a long story…and it’s not pretty.”

He shrugged.  “I don’t give a shit.  You can’t scare me off.”

A smile popped up on her face in spite of the inner turmoil she felt.  She was really going to tell him…and it was one of her dirtiest, darkest secrets, something very few people knew about her, not even Katie.  Oh, sure, her family knew—it was one of the skeletons they didn’t talk about, one of the shadows they loved to shove in the closet and pretend didn’t exist, but they knew.  How
couldn’t
they know?  Ah, but talking about it…that might involve putting forth an effort, might mean they’d have to communicate…might even have to give a shit about one another.

And that could never,
would
never, happen in Heather’s family.  No way in hell.

She took a deep breath.  Where to begin?  She didn’t want to begin at the beginning, wasn’t ready to tell him her entire family history, so she instead said, “I’ve battled bulimia since I was a teenager.”

“Bulimia?  You mean, like…”

His voice trailed off, and Heather didn’t know if he was on the mark or not, so she nodded, hoping to encourage him, but began talking anyway.  “I, uh…have a, uh…oh, it’s hard to explain.  For a long time, my therapist thought I might have Body Dysmorphic Disorder, and he’s still not convinced I don’t, but I’m not so sure.”

Kiefer seemed stunned, but he finally said, “What’s that?”

“It’s a kind of obsessive-compulsive thing…which is exactly why I don’t think that’s quite what my problem is.”

“So what
do
you think your problem is?”

She looked down at her hands, drawing in a deep breath.  “I know what my problem is.  My problem is that I was always an unwanted child.”

Kiefer tilted his head, touching her on the shoulder.  It was comforting.  “That sucks.”

“Yeah.  My mom left when I was little.  I barely remember her.”  Heather let her mind wander back.  She could remember the last time she saw her mother.  She was maybe four years old, and her mom had been standing in that gigantic kitchen.  She’d squatted down and kissed Heather on the forehead.  “I love you, pumpkin,” she’d said, touching a finger to her daughter’s nose.  “Be good for Daddy.”  Heather hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but after her mother had been gone overnight, Heather asked her father when mommy would be home.  He’d always answer with something noncommittal and sound uninterested in further conversation.  After a while, Heather got the hint and stopped asking.

The problem was her father.  She’d had more than one nanny, and they were more parents to her than her dad, but by the time Heather was twelve—and her dad had gone through dozens of girlfriends, most of whom gave even less of a shit about her than her father—it was as though she was nonexistent.

She didn’t realize that she’d stopped talking and had begun introspecting until Kiefer said, “I never knew my dad.”

She nodded.  “That’s tough.  But I wish I’d never known mine.”

“Why?”

“I’d like to say he is a real rat bastard…and I guess he is, but he ignored me for the most part.  He just didn’t give a shit.”  She could tell that Kiefer had so many unspoken questions, but he was being patient and letting her work through it herself.

He did ask, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

She couldn’t help it.  She snorted, but there was no real humor in it.  “I have a little sister.  My dad’s girlfriend got pregnant a couple of years ago.  The last time I visited, my fucking father was actually being a real dad…and it made me sick to my stomach.  I’m glad for sweet little Renee…but it breaks my heart that he couldn’t find it in himself to love me.”

She didn’t even feel the tear on her cheek until Kiefer wrapped an arm around her shoulder and wiped at it with his thumb.  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.  “Anyway, sometime after the nanny era, I was kind of a latch-key kid.  But my dad…he’s rich.  I guess you should know.  He’s got more money than he’ll ever need, so there was always someone around to kind of keep an eye on me.  At least when I had nannies, though, they pretended to care.  He gave them enough money to act like it.  I think some of them might have really given half a shit, but they were never around enough to make a difference.  In all fairness, my first nanny, a sweet lady named Sandy—she was good to me.  She showed me a lot of love, but I think my dad canned her.  A disagreement, maybe.”  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting her head rest against Kiefer.  “When I started middle school, I became more aware of my appearance—you know, all kids do.  You start noticing how your body is changing.  Hair everywhere, pimples, boobs sprouting, stuff like that.  Well, I noticed that I was chubbier than all the other kids in my class. 
And why?
  Because I wasn’t loved, so I found comfort in food.  Yeah, I know that sounds so fucking cliché, but it’s true.  One of dad’s cooks—back when I was nine or ten—made a comment one time about how I was such a good girl because I ate all the food on my plate…and I just ran with it.  It was one of the few times in my life I was given any kind of positive feedback.  I wasn’t the smartest kid in my class, not the most artistic, not the best athlete, not the prettiest…so I was ignored by everyone.  I didn’t have friends.  And even my dad’s money was no big deal, because I went to a private school and I was surrounded by dozens of kids even richer.

“So it started by me finding comfort in food.  It was a reward at first—the attention, and then I discovered the joy in food.  You know, that high you can get from sugar or how you look forward to eating a favorite meal.  But it wasn’t long before I treated it like my only friend.

“Well, then, after that, when I realized I’d gained a lot of weight, I—well, I guess I
did
become kind of obsessed with my looks.  What I looked like consumed my thoughts day and night, and I eventually decided to do something about it.  I’d go ahead and eat, because I no longer wanted any attention from anyone for doing something perceived to be abnormal, but as soon as I was out of the scrutiny of my family, I’d throw up.”  She nodded, letting her mind wander back.  “The weight came off pretty quickly.  No one noticed.  And, unlike all the other shit in my life…
it was the
one
thing I could control.
  The one thing no one could affect or change other than me.  And…I saw the numbers dropping on the scale, but to me I still looked the same.  I was
still
chubby.  No, I was
fat
, and I hated myself.  Yeah,
hated
myself.  Only I think I hated my dad more.  Maybe that was where all that animosity came from, but it was there, and it was vile.

“After a while, it was second nature.  Most of the time, I’d throw up after eating.  If I wasn’t throwing up, I was finding another way to deal with the food—I would exercise for hours, but sometimes I’d just go without eating for days.”

She was quiet for a while and then Kiefer asked, “But…when I first met you, you weren’t skin and bones.”

She smiled and nodded her head.  “I had been under the care of a therapist for a long time, and he gave me a range on the scale.  If I could stay within the weights he gave me, he said, I’d be healthy.  So I kept my weight between one-twenty and one-sixty.”

“What were you before?”

“Always ninety-five pounds or under.”

“
What?
”

“Yeah.  And I
still
looked fat.  To
me
.”  She knew Kiefer meant well, but she couldn’t look him in the eye.  She could see the care and love in his face, but she wasn’t ready to accept it—not yet.  “You have no idea how it preoccupied my life.  I barely graduated high school, because I was worried more about my looks than I was about my schoolwork.  But I could tell you—drop of a hat—the calories in a potato chip, a donut, an apple, a hot dog…anything.  You name it.”  No way in hell would she ever tell Kiefer, but she even knew that the blowjob she’d given him the night before weighed in between five and twenty-five calories.  Had she still been in that frame of mind, she would have then swum around the pool fifty or so laps to burn off all those calories.  Stupid.  Yeah, it was stupid, but it was the way her mind worked.

“What helped, though…Dave.  He was my therapist.  Still is.  He taught me so much about the faulty way my brain works.”  She took in several slow breaths before continuing.  “I take anti-depression meds.  They help.  And he treated me for years, helping me learn to love myself.  I can go back anytime I need to, but especially when things get rough again.  The problem is I don’t always reach out to him when I need help.  When I was going to grad school, I’d convinced myself I didn’t need anyone’s help.  I stayed on my meds, yes, but I went way too far the other way.  I began stress eating again and put on a lot of weight, avoiding the mirror like I always do, but I was lying to myself, trying to avoid the real fact that I’m messed up in the head.”  She looked over at the mirror and saw Kiefer’s head behind her, also looking.  “See?  I look at myself.  I look like a fat clown.”

He looked sad.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  I look really fat.”

“But you’re not.  You know that, right?  You know you’re not.”

“Yeah, I do.  But I don’t like to look at myself…because I don’t
see
that.  And I have to trust the scale…and Dave.  Dave promised he’d tell me if I really did get fat.  I know logically that one-hundred-twenty pounds is healthier than ninety for my height and bone structure, but it doesn’t
feel
right.  I can’t explain…but
emotionally
I don’t feel thin.  I always feel like the chubby twelve year old whose dad doesn’t give a shit about her.”

Kiefer didn’t say a word; he simply pulled her into an embrace.  How had he known that that was exactly what she’d needed?  It said more than words could ever say…that he accepted her for who she was and that, no matter how fucked up her brain was, it was okay.  He was still there, and that was more than any other man had ever done for her.

Chapter Twelve

OH, YEAH.  IT was pretty damned stupid, but he’d promised to do it for Heather.  He was pretending like they were just friends in front of everyone else.

After their long talk and her confession of sorts, Kiefer had kissed her and told her that she was beautiful and he hoped that someday she would see herself through his eyes.  She’d thanked him and told him he’d already done more for her than he’d ever know.  It was sweet and amazing and it reconfirmed what he’d known all along—that they were best friends who needed each other more than they’d realized at first.

But after all that—
all
that had happened the night before…she’d asked him to keep up their ruse.  For some reason, she didn’t want anyone there to know that they were seeing each other romantically—and because he cared, he was going along with her wishes…but now he was wondering why the hell he’d agreed to it.

Like she’d asked, though, he was walking to his room to change into fresh clothes before heading to the kitchen.  She was already on her way to breakfast.  Again, her idea was that if they arrived at different times, no one would figure it out.  Yeah, okay, but
he
didn’t give a shit if Katie, Johnny, Mickey, Sage, or any of their other guests knew he and Heather were together.  They were friends already, and if they took their relationship further, it was no one else’s business.  But Heather was concerned about the “secret” getting out.  He knew she had her reasons why.

What bothered him was what he
thought
was the reason.  Even after everything—all they’d shared, all they’d been to each other over the past few years—she wanted to keep him at a safe distance, as her friend only, even though they clearly should be more.

He sighed as he opened his bedroom door.  Well, he still had a few more days to try to convince her otherwise.  He could only hope she could be persuaded to see that they belonged together—as
more
than friends.

He heard Mickey in the bathroom running water in the sink.  “Hey, that you, Kief?”

“Yeah.”

“Where you been, man?”

Kiefer looked toward the bathroom door and watched as Mickey opened it.  He said, “Just taking a walk.”

“It’s kinda cold outside, isn’t it?”

Man, he sucked at lying.  He was going to try anyway.  He’d promised Heather.  “Just around the house.  You see how big this place is?”

“Yeah.  It boggles the mind.  I get wanting to have a bigger place, but do you think Katie and Johnny really
need
a place this big?”

“I doubt he gives a shit.  He’s got that huge man cave
and
a music studio—a
studio
, dude, where we’re going to actually record our next album.  And then he’s got that huge garage for tinkering on his Harley.  I don’t see him hating it here.”

“That’s not what I meant.  I get the man cave with all that cool shit.  I get the music studio, the garage, and even the huge fuckin’ swimming pool, but what the hell do they need with, like, sixteen bedrooms or however many they have?  And other shit.  I haven’t even looked in half the rooms.  Sage was sayin’ somethin’about an art room and a library.”

“You’re not surprised about the library, are you?”

Mickey shrugged.  “What?  ‘Cause Katie’s a writer?”

“Yeah.  Johnny said she was totally into classic literature and wanted to be surrounded by books and beauty while she wrote.”  And he started wondering if Heather had checked it out yet.  He knew she was into the same shit.  That was why she and Katie were such good friends—they’d gone to school together, studying for the same thing—and, if he remembered correctly—those were exactly the subjects Heather taught nowadays.

His mind was preoccupied by thinking about how Heather had had a hell of a battle growing up—a war she was still fighting, apparently.  In all their past conversations, he’d never realized how hard she’d had it.  He’d had a pretty shitty childhood too, but nothing like what Heather had had to deal with.  He’d had no idea…and he wasn’t about to tell her his own woes, because his paled in comparison to what she’d had to go through.

It made him want to hold her close for as long as she’d have him.

Instead, she continued to push him away.

Was it her past that made her want to keep that distance?  Was her father such a cold asshole that she would never trust any other man?  He was starting to wonder if that was the problem, because—as far as he knew—he’d never done anything to engender that sort of response from her.

And he wasn’t sure how to counteract it.

Mickey spat the toothpaste in his mouth into the sink.  “You eat breakfast already?”

“No.  I was gonna go do that in a minute.”

“If you’ll give me a sec, I’ll go with you.”

“Sounds good.  I just want to change clothes first.”  Mickey rinsed out his toothbrush and headed into his room to, no doubt, finish dressing himself.  Kiefer walked across the room and flipped open the lid on his luggage to pull out fresh clothes.  He didn’t really care what he wore and never had.  As long as he was comfortable, it didn’t matter.  He threw on some shoes just as Mickey walked into his room.

They were heading down the hall toward the kitchen and Mickey paused in front of Sage’s door and pounded on it.  “You up?”  The two of them kept walking, but they heard Sage say something behind the door—something pissy.  Mickey cracked a smile but didn’t miss a step.  He was holding a new pack of smokes and started slapping the top of the pack against the palm of his hand, something Kiefer had seen his friend do dozens of times, something Mickey had told him he did to pack the tobacco in and make each cigarette slower burning.  Kiefer had his doubts that it really did anything for the cigarette, but there was no way he was going to argue with Mickey and his habits.  He knew routines like those could be comforting—he’d seen his mother engage in those types of activities surrounding her own addictions, but they were never anything like smoking.  Kiefer tended to think of smoking as harmless, even though he knew it really wasn’t, but at least it didn’t eat away the addict’s brain…not like what had happened to his mom.

Mickey broke him from his spell.  “Is that sausage I smell?”

Kiefer drew the air in through his nostrils.  “Yeah, I think so.”

“Damn.  I could get used to this shit.”

They rounded the corner and saw that the table was already full.  Kiefer had almost forgotten about all the guests that had joined them yesterday—he could hardly keep all the names straight.  But they had Johnny’s original band members—not just Riley and Erin but all the other guys who’d arrived the day before, except for Stone and his girl—as well as Heather at the table.  Johnny had just sat down and Katie was getting ready to.

Kiefer tried to avoid Heather’s gaze at first, because he thought she would want that.  He instead took in the spread at the table.  He was starting to feel spoiled on the food front.  On the table were biscuits, bagels, and English muffins, a plate full of sliced sausage, and some kind of hot plate with fried eggs.  There was also a huge bowl of hash browns and a fruit salad with pineapple, bananas, grapes, and Kiefer had no idea what else, but his mouth was already watering.  Katie said, “Help yourself to an egg sandwich or two,” and Kiefer made his way toward the coffee pot first, planning to sit in the empty seat next to Heather, hoping he looked casual when he did it.

But by the time he had his coffee stirred, he turned around and saw that Mickey stole the empty seat.  Damn it.  What had he expected?  All this secretive bullshit would, of course, lead to that.  Well, he couldn’t let it show on his face.  When he sat down—between Katie and one of the guys named Mike—he allowed himself to glance at Heather, and the look on her face made him feel a thousand times better.  She gave him a little grin and he saw the twinkle in her eye.  Okay, maybe he could lay low for a while if she continued looking at him that way.

And then he glanced around the table just to make sure that significant look hadn’t been caught by anyone else.  He was pretty sure they were okay, and he began filling his plate.

There was a little chitchat around the table, mostly focused on the weather this high up on the mountain and when they expected snowfall.  Kiefer couldn’t pay much attention because he was thinking about Heather—last night and this morning and what he could do to help her.

Knowing what he knew now, he couldn’t help but watch what she put on her plate.  Nothing about the way she ate seemed unusual.  She didn’t put cheese on her egg and sausage biscuit, but she put fruit salad on her plate as well and seemed to eat like a normal person—not eating too much or too little.  He tried not to frown at himself.  The last thing Heather would want would be for him to scrutinize her.  He’d never say a word.  He just found himself worried about her now that she’d shared her secret.

Sage joined them shortly after and grabbed a cup of coffee.  He sat at the table without saying anything and didn’t fill his plate immediately.  Kiefer wondered if he and Mickey had hit the bottle in private last night.  It wouldn’t have surprised him, but Sage looked a little out of it, like he was nursing a hangover.

Kiefer wasn’t going to say a word.

When the conversation around weather hit a lull, Johnny said, “I know a lot of you old-school friends are heading out today, but how many of my new guys are up for a writing session today?  Ready to break in my new studio?”

There was a lot of positive noise around the table and Riley said, “Could I join you too?”

“Sure, man.”

Erin touched her boyfriend’s shoulder but didn’t open her mouth.  Riley said, “Yeah, I
know
we gotta visit my parents, but let me jam with the boys for a while first.”

She grinned at him.  “Sure it’s not just that you wanna play some of your oldies with your friends?”

“Nope, I’m not sure.  I think that’s a big part of it, but I think it might be simple avoidance too.”

Johnny smiled.  “I wouldn’t sweat it, Ri.  Parents seem to mellow with age.”

“I call bullshit, man.  Your mom was
always
mellow.”

“You got me there.”

In spite of the fact that Kiefer felt sad that he couldn’t connect with Heather at the moment, he was enjoying the feel of camaraderie around the table.  He knew there’d been some rivalry between the members of Spawn in the past—Johnny had said as much—but they seemed to get along just fine nowadays and even seemed to appreciate and respect one another.  He was a newcomer to the music business, but he loved what he was doing and hoped it would always be that way.  He couldn’t imagine not getting along with his bandmates, even when they were being dicks while thinking they were funny.  He loved them like brothers, even when he didn’t feel particularly close to them or know that they had no clue about who he was inside, because they were doing something fun.  They were creating music, bringing art to millions of screaming fans who loved what they were doing.

So, after a general consensus between Riley and Johnny’s current band, Katie told the other two females at the table that she had plans for them too.  She was being secretive but said that what they were going to do involved the library.

Erin’s eyebrows perked up.  “
Library?
  As in Winchester?”

“No…as in
my
library.”

“I had no idea.”

Heather smiled, her cute little dimples lighting up her face.  God, Kiefer loved that.  “You can sign me up for anything involving your library.”  She faced Erin.  “Just wait till you see it.  You are gonna
die
.”

“I can’t wait.”

Kiefer had to admit that even
he
was curious about what the girls would be doing with Katie in her library, but he was going to be busy engaging in male bonding and, he hoped, maybe even sharing some of his words with Johnny.  Today was gonna be a great day.