Page 68 of Too Late

A few seconds pass, but I don’t feel him step up behind me. He doesn’t say anything. My heart is beating so fast, I get lightheaded.

I straighten up and slowly turn around. His white T-shirt is soaked through and he still has his jeans on. He’s leaning against the back wall of the shower, barefoot, staring down at the tub.

I wait a moment to see what he wants. When he fails to move or speak—he just keeps staring at nothing—I finally speak up.

The fear cracks the sound of my voice when I say, “What are you doing, Asa?”

My question breaks him out of his trance. His eyes flick up to mine. He stares for approximately five painstakingly long seconds, and then he looks around the shower and back down at his clothes. He runs his hands over them like he has no idea why they’re wet. He shakes his head and says, “I don’t fucking know.”

My knees grow weak at his reaction. I don’t even turn off the water. I step out of the shower as fast as I can and grab a towel. I don’t even bother getting dressed before swinging open the door to run to the bedroom. I just need to stay as far away from him as I can until Carter gets here and I know I’ll be a little safer.

As soon as I step out into the hallway, something to my right catches my eye. I look over and see Jon about to walk into the bedroom at the end of the hall. His hand is on the door and he’s staring at me—his eyes scrolling down my towel-covered body.

When I see the disgusting grin stretch across his face, I walk the three feet to my bedroom door. “Don’t even think about it, you piece of fuckingshit.” I slam the bedroom door and lock myself away from every last one of these crazy assholes. I walk to my phone and I text Carter.

ME: He’s losing his mind. Please show up early.

I delete the text and wait for the sound of the shower to cut off.

It doesn’t.

After I’m dressed and about to head to the store, I decide to check on him. I open the bathroom door and he’s no longer standing. He’s sitting in the tub, still fully clothed, the water beating down on him. His eyes are wide open and the water is running over them.

I grip the doorknob and take a small step back. “I’m going to the grocery store, Asa. What do you want me to cook tonight?”

His head doesn’t move, but his eyes scroll across the bathroom and meet mine. “Meatloaf.”

I nod. “Okay. You want anything else while I’m there?”

He stares at me for a few seconds and then he smiles. “Get a dessert for the celebration.”

Celebration?My throat suddenly becomes itchy and it’s hard to swallow. “Okay,” I say, my voice weak. “What are we celebrating?”

His eyes leave mine and move straight ahead again. “You’ll see.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

CARTER

Ihave no idea why Asa invited us over for dinner. We’ve been at his house almost every night lately; tonight shouldn’t be any different. I was hoping Sloan was being paranoid in her text when she said he’s losing his mind, but I’m a little worried she’s spot-on.

I can smell the food before I even open the front door. When I walk inside and look around, Dalton is the only one not here yet. Jon and Asa are taking up both recliners and Kevin is on the couch.

Asa is leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, remote in hand, flipping through news channels. When he hears the door close behind me, he turns around.

I nod my head in his direction and he turns back to the TV. “Do you watch the news, Carter?”

I glance toward the kitchen to see Sloan standing at the bar, wiping it down with a rag. I can see her from where I’m standing, but Asa can’t.

“Sometimes,” I say.

Sloan cuts her eyes to mine and lifts a finger to her hair. I run my thumb across my bottom lip. She lifts her other hand to her head and twirls three of her fingers in her hair. Then five. Then all ten. Then she’s mock-ripping at her hair with both hands, twirling it in all directions, letting me know she’s going crazy.

I want to smile at her, but I force myself to walk into the living room and take a seat next to Kevin. “Why’d you want to know if I watch the news?” I ask Asa.

He flips to another channel. “I haven’t heard anything about my father. Just making sure he survived and I’m not about to be arrested for murder.”

He says it so nonchalant, like the possibility of being arrested for murder is a daily occurrence. I nod, but fail to tell him that his father survived. He wasn’t even hurt that bad, actually. The casino called an ambulance for him, but other than a broken nose and a broken jaw, there isn’t any serious damage. The guy didn’t even want to press charges. Dalton told me all this after he checked into it today.

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