Page 64 of Too Late

Oh, God.

My hand goes to my heart as I ache for the little boy in him.

I turn and look at Carter and Dalton, and they’re looking at Asa with just as much pity as I am. When I turn back toward Asa, he’s rolling onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow.

He grips the pillow in both fists and presses his face against it so hard, I’m convinced he’s trying to smother himself. His shoulders begin to shake as they roll forward into the pillow.

“Asa,” I whisper, soothing a hand over his head.

He becomes a wreck of sobs. It’s the kind of cry that is so deep and heart wrenching, it’s not even accompanied by a sound.

Completely silent.

I’ve never seen Asa cry. I didn’t even know he was capable of real tears.

He won’t remember any of this tomorrow. He won’t know if I left him here alone or crawled into bed and held him. I continue to soothe Asa’s head as I glance up at Carter. Dalton is no longer in the room. It’s just the three of us now.

Carter walks over to me and I can see equal amounts of sympathy in his eyes. He lifts his hand and runs it over my cheek, then bends forward and kisses me on the forehead.

He holds his lips there for several seconds before breaking away and walking toward the door. When he reaches the doorway, he turns around and stares at me for a moment. He lifts a hand and slowly runs his thumb over his bottom lip. My heart reaches out for him, but I stay planted on the floor, comforting Asa.

I lift my hand and pull at a strand of my hair, winding it around my finger. Carter’s lips stretch into a ghost of a smile as he watches me for a few seconds longer, then closes the door.

I climb onto the bed, under the covers, and I wrap myself around Asa, soothing his tears until I’m convinced he’s finally asleep.

But right before I drift off, I hear him whisper, “You better never fucking leave me, Sloan.”

THIRTY-SIX

ASA

The first thing I see when I open the refrigerator is a bowl of leftover spaghetti.Thank God.

“See, Dad?” I whisper to no one. “She’s a fucking godsend.”

I put the spaghetti in the microwave and then walk over to the sink to splash water on my face. It feels like I slept with my head in the fucking toilet all night. Hell, based on the stench of the bedroom this morning, I probably did.

I lean over the counter, waiting for the spaghetti to finish heating up. I stare at the bowl as it rotates in circles inside the microwave.

I wonder if I killed him?

I doubt it. It’s been almost a day since we left the casino. If he died, the police would have been here by now. And if he lived, I’m almost positive he won’t press charges. He knows he deserved what I did to him.

The microwave beeps.

I pull the spaghetti out and grab a fork, then shove a bite into my mouth. I barely get it swallowed before I have to find the trash can. I throw up twice, rinse out my mouth, and then force another bite of spaghetti into my mouth.

I’ll push through this withdrawal like a motherfucker, because I am not turning out like that man.

I eat another bite of spaghetti and swallow it down with my bile.

Push through it, Asa.

The front door swings open and Sloan walks inside. I glance at the clock and notice it’s barely after two. She’s never home from school this early. Either she doesn’t notice me standing in the kitchen or it’s that time of the month and she’s in a pissy mood, because she rushes straight up the stairs and to the bedroom.

Not a minute later, I hear her making a mess of the bedroom. Stuff falling to the floor. Her feet moving from one side of the room to the other. I stare up at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck she’s doing. My head hurts too bad to go up and look for myself. I don’t have to, because a few seconds later, she’s storming down the stairs.

When she rounds the corner to the kitchen, my dick twitches in my pants. She’s angry as hell and it’s hot as fuck. I smile at her as she marches toward me.

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