Page 66 of Too Late

I allow her to reach the front door before I walk after her. She’s not even to the grass before I have my arm wrapped around her waist, my hand over her mouth. I turn her around and walk her back into the goddamn house she’s so ungrateful for. I carry her straight up to the bedroom and kick open the door. I toss her onto the bed and she tries to scoot off and run around me.

How cute.

I grab her by the hair and swing her back to the bed. She screams, but I put a stop to that with my hand. I climb on top of her, covering her mouth with one hand and holding her wrists down with the other. There’s not much I can do about her legs as she does her best to kick her way out from under me, but I have more strength in one finger than she does in her entire body. It feels more like she’s tickling me than attempting to hurt me.

“Listen up, babe,” I whisper, staring down at her. “If you try to insinuate that you don’t love me, I’m going to be really upset.Reallyfucking upset. Because that would mean you’ve been pretending with me since the day you walked back through my door. That would mean you’ve been faking every orgasm, every kiss, every word you’ve ever spoken to me—simply for a monthly check. And if that were true, that would make you a whore, Sloan. Do you know what men like me do to whores?”

Her eyes are wide with fear. Hopefully that means I’m getting through to her. She’s no longer attempting to kick her way out from under me, so that’s a good sign.

“That was a question, babe. Do youknowwhat men like me do towhores?”

A tear falls out of her eye as she shakes her head. I can feel the breath from her nostrils slamming against my hand; she’s struggling so hard for more air.

I lower my mouth to her ear. “Please don’t make me show you.”

We lie like this for a few more moments, while I make sure my words are sinking in. I pull back and look down at her. Her expression hasn’t changed, but now she’s crying so hard against my hand, snot is coming from her nose. It’s on my fucking hand now. I pull it away from her mouth and wipe it on the bed. Then I grab the sleeve of my shirt and I wipe her face clean.

Her lips are quivering. I don’t know why I’ve never noticed how fucking attractive her fear is. I kiss her softly, closing my eyes while her lips tremble against mine. “Do you love me?” I carefully whisper the words against her mouth. “Or are you a whore?”

A shaky breath passes her lips. “I love you,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I was just upset, Asa. I don’t like it when you lie to me.”

I press my forehead to the side of her head and exhale. In a way, she’s right. I probably should have never lied to her about her brother. But if she had been in my shoes, she’d have done the same thing.

“Don’t ever get angry like that with me again, Sloan.” I pull back and brush her hair out of her face. It’s sweaty and sticks to my hand. I run my fingers through it, smoothing it out with the rest of her hair. “I don’t like what it does to me. What it makes me want to have to do toyou.”

“I don’t like it, either,” she says.

Her eyes are full of regret, but I don’t feel bad. It’s her own fault for coming at me like she did. At least that’s out of the way, though. It was becoming tedious to keep up with that lie for so long, I was starting to get sloppy with it.

I release her wrists and bring my hand to her face, running the backs of my knuckles across her cheek. “Should we kiss and make up now?”

She nods, and when I press my lips to hers, I exhale with relief. Because for a split second when she was walking toward the front door, I thought maybe she was serious about leaving. I thought maybe I would never get to taste her like this again.

I’m relieved it was an empty threat. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever found out she didn’t actually love me.

She’s the only one who does.

THIRTY-SEVEN

SLOAN

Iclose my eyes and allow the spray of water to beat down on my face.

What was I thinking?Why did I think it was okay to confront him alone? I didn’t even warn Carter what I was about to do.That was really dumb.

But in my defense, it’s hard to think when you’re in a blind rage.

After I left my doctor’s appointment this morning, I got the call from the social worker. I had been driving toward campus, and when she revealed that my brother’s care wasn’t private pay, I lost it.Completelylost it. I turned the car around and drove straight to my brother’s facility to meet with her. By the time I left, I had never been that angry.

The only thing I could think about was Asa and how I wanted to kill him. Rage really does blind you. When I walked into the kitchen to confront him, I didn’t care that he could hurt me. I just wanted to know if it was true—if he’d somehow been sending me forged letters from the government. I didn’t want to believe it, because believing it would mean he is certifiably insane. But the only type of person who could invent a lie like that and keep it up for two yearshasto be certifiably insane.

I remember the day he brought over my mail after we broke up the first time. The benefits letter was on top. After I read the letter, I was devastated. The bastard actually comforted me—told me if I ever needed anything, he’d help me in a heartbeat. He said, “That’s what you do for the people you love, Sloan. You help them.”

That was back when I believed he actually loved me and it was a heart-felt gesture.Now I think it’s more of a psychotic obsession.

I had nowhere else to go, and thanks to what I thought was about to happen to Stephen, I ended up being forced to ask Asa for help. It was a last resort, for sure. Hell, I even called the number on the form that day to see if I had any other options. Now I realize it was obviously a fake number with one of Asa’s friends on the other line, but I didn’t realize it at the time.

The hot water mixes with the tears that are now streaking down my cheeks.

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