Page 50 of Too Late

“Can he read almost anything?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “He doesn’t really comprehend. I taught him how to read and write when we were younger, but stringing full thoughts together has never been something I’ve seen him do on paper. It’s his favorite game to play.”

I look over at Stephen. “Can I write something, Stephen?” I reach out for the pen and he hands it to me, but he still doesn’t look at me. I press it to the paper.

Your sister is amazing and you’re very lucky to have her.

I hand Sloan the paper and she reads it before handing it to Stephen. She blushes and nudges me in the shoulder, then passes the pen and paper off to him.

And that’s what we do for the next ten pages. Stephen and Sloan write random words back and forth, and I just write down a bunch of compliments about Sloan.

Your sister has great hair. I especially love it when she curls it.

Did you know your sister cleans up after several men who don’t know how to lift a damn finger? And no one has probably ever told her thank you. Thank you, Sloan.

Your sister’s ring finger looks beautiful and bare today.

I like your sister. A lot.

After about an hour, a nurse comes in and interrupts the game to take Stephen to physical therapy.

“Is the social worker in today?” Sloan asks.

The nurse shakes her head. “Not on Sundays. But I’ll leave a note in her box when he’s finished with therapy so she’ll know to contact you tomorrow.”

Sloan tells her that would be great and then she walks over to give Stephen a hug. When she’s finished with her goodbye, I’m honestly not sure what to do. I don’t want to pretend I’m an expert at interacting with individuals like Stephen, but I also don’t want to do something I shouldn’t do.

“Does he shake hands?” I ask Sloan.

She shakes her head. “He doesn’t really let anyone but me touch him.” She slips her hand through mine.

“It was nice meeting you, Stephen,” I say to him. Sloan grabs her purse and we begin to walk out of the room so the nurse can do what she needs to do to prepare him for therapy. When we’re almost to the door, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to find Stephen standing in front of me, eyes on the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels. He hands me the pen and a blank sheet of paper. I take it from him, not really knowing how to tell him we’re leaving and we can’t keep playing.

I glance at Sloan to see what she wants me to do, and I’m confused by her expression. Stephen walks back into the living room, away from us. I look down at the blank sheet of paper and pen.

“He wants you to come back,” she whispers. When I glance up at her again, she’s smiling, shaking her head back and forth. “I’ve never seen that happen before, Carter.” She covers her mouth with her hand and lets out a mixture of what could be both a laugh and a cry. “He likes you.”

I look at Stephen and his back is to us now. When I return my attention to Sloan, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me, then leads me out of the room. I fold up the paper and slip it and the pen in my back pocket.

I don’t know what I was expecting today, but it certainly wasn’t that.

I’m glad I came, but now it’s not only because of Sloan.

THIRTY-ONE

ASA

Iremember this being a hell of a lot more fun last month.

I run my hand through my hair, squeezing the back of my neck. I’m hungry. I look over at Kevin and Dalton, who are engrossed in conversation with some bartender who looks more like a girl Jon would take behind the building than either of them would entertain.

The only reason why Jon probablyisn’tfucking her behind the building right now is because he left with two lot lizards from the truck stop next door. Probably took them to the men’s room. Which surprises me that he was even able to dothatwith the way his face is puffed up like a fucking blueberry.

He should be back by now, though, because I’m pretty sure he can’t last more than two minutes with a chick. There were two of them. That’s only four minutes, but I haven’t seen him in over an hour.

Where the hell is he?

I look around, and when I don’t see him in the vicinity, I cash out my chips. I yell across the table—over the obnoxious fucking slot machine bells—and tell Dalton and Kevin I’m going to look for Jon. Dalton nods.

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