Too Late

by C. Hoover

  He slaps my hand on the dresser and then opens the top drawer, holding my hand down flat with his.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, fearing the answer. He opens the second drawer and rifles through it.

  “Helping you remember never to take it off,” he says, grabbing a tube and slamming the dresser drawer shut. My eyes land on the bottle of super glue in his hand.

  The hell he is.

  I try to yank my hand back, but he uses even more force to hold down my wrist. He pulls the cap off the super glue and starts squirting it on my finger, spreading it under my ring.

  The tears begin stinging at my eyes. I’ve never seen him like this and I don’t want to push things even more. I stop fighting and stand as still as I can, aside from my heart racing in my chest. Carter isn’t here, and I’m honestly too scared to fight back right now because I’m not sure that any of those guys downstairs would come to my defense.

  Asa tosses the super glue on the dresser and lifts my hand, then blows on it to dry the glue. He stares at me the whole time he’s blowing on my finger. His eyes are black. Huge and black and terrifying.

  “You finished?” I whisper. “I don’t want to overcook your spaghetti.”

  He blows on my hand for a few more seconds and then leans in and kisses my palm. “All done. Now you won’t forget.”

  He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. I think I’ve always known he wasn’t a great person, but I had no idea how crazy he was until looking at his eyes just now.

  Asa follows me out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Dalton is standing at the base of the stairs, and I can see the concern in his eyes.

  I still don’t trust him.

  I walk back into the kitchen and straight to the stove. I pull the noodles off the burner and begin pouring them into the strainer just as a car pulls up in the driveway.

  Carter.

  I finish straining the noodles, staring down at my ring the whole time.

  It’s not even straight. It’ll be a bitch peeling off the super glue and will probably take me days. The least the asshole could have done was make sure he glued it on straight. It’s going to drive me crazy.

  I make sure not to look at the front door when it opens. I go back to the stove and stir the spaghetti sauce, then check the meatballs in the oven. Asa is washing blood off his arms at the sink when Carter walks into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator.

  “What happened to you?” Carter says.

  I can’t make out what Asa says, thanks to the pulse still pounding in my ears, but Carter laughs. “You guys win any jackpots?”

  I turn around and walk to the sink, catching a glimpse of Carter out of the corner of my eye.

  Asa shakes his head and says, “Not a goddamn thing. Not like that jackpot you had wrapped around you Friday night.”

  It feels like all the blood completely leaves my heart. I can’t look at Carter right now. I can’t. Either Asa is testing me to see if I react to that statement, or Carter isn’t at all who I thought he was.

  “She was a mother-fucking firecracker,” Asa adds. “Good job, man. I was definitely impressed.”

  I walk to the oven to check on the meatballs, but only so I can get a glimpse of Carter’s face. He takes a sip of his beer, not making eye contact with me. “She’s just a friend,” he says.

  I have to grip the oven door with all my strength, because it feels like I’m about to crash to the floor.

  What girl? When? Friday night was when Carter came to my room and kissed me. How in the world did I not know he was here with someone else?

  I feel like more of a fool in this moment than I’ve ever felt dating Asa. At least I’ve always known Asa is an asshole.

  I honestly thought Carter was different.

  “A friend my ass,” Asa says. “Do you hump Dalton against the living room wall like that? Jon? Where I come from, friends don’t do that to friends, my man.”

  I pull the meatballs out of the oven and am forced to walk the long way around the island back to the stove, just to avoid either of them seeing the tears in my eyes. A few seconds later, I feel Asa’s arm slip around my waist. He kisses my neck, and fuck if I don’t turn around and plant my mouth on his. As much as I hate him and as much as I want to cut his dick off for what he just did to me upstairs, this kiss isn’t at all about him.

  I want Carter to feel what I just felt. Like there’s a huge gash in my chest.

  Fucking bastard. They’re all fucking bastards.

  I pull away from Asa. “You’re making it hard to concentrate. You guys get out of the kitchen so I can finish cooking.”

  I have no idea how I’m able to speak, because each of my words wants to turn to sobs. I drop all the meatballs into the sauce, and as I’m pouring the noodles in, Dalton walks in the kitchen.

  “Christ, Asa. Go take a fucking shower. We’ll all lose our appetite if we have to stare at all that blood while we eat.”

  I use Dalton’s distraction to glance over at Carter. He’s staring right at me, his eyes full of concern. It’s like he’s trying to tell me a million things right now. He lifts his hand and runs his thumb over his bottom lip.

  I don’t twirl my hair around my finger. Instead, I rub my mouth with my middle finger and then turn to face Asa. He pushes my hair over my shoulder. “You should come shower with me. It’ll be kind of hard to do it one-handed.”

  I shake my head. “Later. I have to finish cooking.”

  Asa runs his fingers down my arm, sliding them over my hand and over my ring. He turns and walks out of the kitchen. Dalton follows him. As soon as I’m alone with Carter, he’s rushing across the kitchen toward me. He stops when he reaches me and comes as close as he can without it looking suspicious. I grip the counter in front of me and don’t look up at him.

  “It wasn’t like that, Sloan. I swear. You have to trust me.”

  His words come out in a rushed, desperate whisper.

  I don’t look at him when I say, “You were making out with another girl?” I slowly turn my head and make eye contact, and I can almost swear he’s about to risk getting caught and pull me to him.

  He starts shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do that to you. It wasn’t like that.”

  His words are slow and precise this time. Everything about him makes me want to trust what he’s saying, but everything about every single male from my past tells me never to trust anyone with a dick.

  He glances around to make sure no one can see us. All the guys in the living room have their backs to us and they’re facing the TV. Carter leans in and squeezes my wrist. “I would never do anything to hurt you. Ever. I swear on your brother’s life, Sloan.”

  And that’s when I really get angry. No one swears on my brother’s life. It’s over before I even realized I did it. I slapped him so hard, all the guys in the living room turned around in their seats.

  I can’t believe I just slapped him. I can’t tell who’s more shocked by it. Me, him or all the guys who are now staring at us. I’m more hurt than I’ve probably ever been in my life, but I’m still smart enough to know I need to cover up the fact that I just slapped him so it doesn’t appear personal. “Don’t dip your finger in the spaghetti sauce, asshole! That’s disgusting!”

  Carter immediately realizes what I’m doing. He forces a laugh and rubs his cheek, but I can see the disappointment in his eyes as he turns and walks toward the living room. I don’t feel bad for him. My brother and I have had enough bad luck. The last thing we need is for Carter to be telling lies and making empty promises while swearing on Stephen’s life.

  I spin around and I stir the fucking spaghetti. I pause to wipe tears away with the sleeve of my shirt, and then I start stirring again. A minute later, Dalton appears at my side and reaches across me. He grabs a spoon and dips it in the sauce, then puts the spoon in his mouth to taste it. He nods and then tosses the spoon in the sink, right before leaning into me. “He’s telling you the truth, Sloan.”

  He walks away, and that’s w
hen I can’t control the tears any longer. I don’t know what to believe. Who to trust. Who to be mad at, who to love. I go to the sink and wash spaghetti sauce off my hands.

  I need out of this house.

  I walk to the back door and yell over my shoulder. “Your fucking spaghetti is ready, you goddamn asshole motherfuckers!”

  I rinse out the last of the bowls and place them in the dishwasher.

  Asa never made it down to eat. Sloan never came back inside. I texted Dalton a few minutes ago and asked him to go upstairs and check on the status of Asa before I risk going outside and talking to Sloan.

  I wipe down the countertop and start the dishwasher. I hear Dalton coming down the stairs at the same time I get a text from him.

  Dalton: He’s passed out naked on his bed. Looks like he’ll be that way for a while, but I’ll text you if he starts to come downstairs. Make sure your phone is on.

  I double and triple check the sound and vibrate settings on my phone, then slide it in my pocket. I head outside to smooth things over with Sloan.

  She’s in the middle of the swimming pool, floating on her back, staring up at the stars. She doesn’t look at me when she hears the back door shut.

  As I’m making my way toward her, I notice her shirt and jeans are thrown over a lounge chair.

  Fucking hell.

  She’s swimming in her underwear.

  That may be normal practice for her around here, but it just feels like I’m stepping on a landmine by being out here while she’s not technically in a bathing suit.

  I reach the edge of the pool and stare down at her, but she still won’t look at me. The water is covering most of her face, but with the light from inside the house, I’m able to see the redness in her eyes.

  It’s kind of fucked up if you think about it. She’s upset that I might be messing with other people, but all the while she’s sleeping in another man’s bed every night.

  Hell, she fucking kissed him just to spite me earlier.

  But I get it. And I don’t blame her, because I know how much she was hurting. How much she is hurting.

  And that’s the hardest part of this. It’s not that I’m about to have to convince her that I really do have feelings for her. The hardest part is knowing what she feels right now as she doubts them.

  If I could just come out and tell her the whole truth, it would make things so much easier. But that’s a violation of my job. It would be disobeying a direct order from Ryan. And as unstable as Asa is right now, the less Sloan knows, the better.

  When Asa mentioned Tillie in the kitchen, the color completely drained from Sloan’s face. I could have killed him right then and there.

  Sloan fans her arms out and kicks her legs, giving herself a push back toward the middle of the pool. “He forgot to turn off the pool heater this weekend,” she says quietly. “It feels really good. I think I might just stay here forever.”

  Her voice is sad. I want to kick off my shoes and dive in the water and stay there with her forever. Just not in this pool or at this house.

  “What’s her name?” she asks, still quiet and staring at the night sky.

  I squeeze the back of my neck, wondering how much I should actually reveal. “Tillie.”

  She laughs, but not because she finds it entertaining. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  I sigh. “She’s just a friend, Sloan. Sometimes she does favors for me.”

  Sloan’s whole body sinks under the water. She sinks all the way to the bottom. When she emerges, she’s shooting daggers at me. It isn’t until I see the look on her face that I realize what I just implied.

  I bring my hands up behind my head. “Not those kinds of favors, Sloan. Jesus.”

  She pushes her wet hair off her forehead and I try not to look at any other part of her other than her face, but it’s really fucking difficult when she’s soaking wet.

  “What favor was she doing for you Friday night that required you to have your hands all over her?”

  I hate how calm she is because I know she’s raging on the inside. Which means she’s likely to explode any minute now. I feel like the edge of this pool is the edge of a volcano.

  “Answer me. What favor was she doing for you Friday night?” she repeats.

  I answer honestly. “She was helping me to try and convince Asa that I’m not interested in fucking you.”

  I don’t have to be staring at her chest to notice her gasp. She tries to hide it, though. She stares at me for a moment and then dips under the water again. She swims to the shallow end and then stands up and walks out of the pool. Both her bra and underwear are nude, completely see-through, and making me paranoid as fuck. I’m half-afraid Asa will be able to hear my pulse from his room.

  Sloan continues walking around the pool until she’s standing right in front of me. Even then, she steps closer. So close, I can feel the wetness from her bra pressing against my chest.

  “Are you? Interested in fucking me?”

  Jesus Christ. What is she doing?

  I fight my own hands as they slide to her hips. “Not really,” I say, my voice rough. “I’m much more interested in making love to you.”

  She’s breathing heavily now, but nothing compared to me. I want to fucking kiss her so bad, but it would definitely be the kiss of death, because I would never stop.

  That, or she’d kill me if I tried. I can’t tell if she’s still angry with me or not. She acts like she wants me to touch her—to kiss her. But she’s looking at me like she wants to throw me in the pool and hold my head underwater.

  She slides her hand to her hip, covering my hand with hers. She wraps her fingers around mine and then drags my hand slowly across her stomach and up to her breast.

  I swallow hard and glance up at her bedroom window. “What are you doing, Sloan?”

  She leans in and stands on her toes until her breasts are pressed against me. I close my eyes and slip one of my hands around to her lower back. My fingertips dip into the back of her underwear and I pull her to me.

  Her lips meet my ear, and she whispers, “Do you get a promotion if you make it to third base with your subject’s fiancée?”

  My eyes pop open.

  I carefully thread my fingers through her hair, tugging her head back so I can look down at her. “You aren’t making any sense, Sloan.”

  She smiles, but the betrayal in her eyes is much more evident. “I know what you are,” she says. “I know what you’re doing here. And now it all makes sense why you’re so interested in me.”

  She pulls away from me, stepping back until my hands are no longer on her. She’s shooting daggers at me with her eyes. “Don’t fucking speak to me ever again or I’ll tell every last one of them you’re undercover. Luke.”

  She tries to walk past me, but I immediately step in front of her and cover her mouth with my hand. She tries to scream and my eyes flick to the back door. No one has seen us yet, but I need to get her somewhere more private before she does something to get us both killed.

  She tries to pull my hand away, clawing at it with her fingernails. I wrap my arms around her and force her to walk to the side of the house with me. She gets even angrier when she realizes what I’m doing, so she starts fighting me with all her strength. I hate having to use this much force on her, but it’s for her own protection. When I finally get her to the side of the house, behind the protective shield of trees, I push her against the wall and keep my hand over her mouth.

  “Stop, it Sloan,” I say, looking her dead in the eyes. “Listen to me. Be quiet and listen to me. Please.”

  She’s breathing heavily against my hand, gripping my wrist with both of hers. When she finally stops struggling, I press one hand against the house beside her head and I slowly begin to remove the other from her mouth.

  She’s panting with fear by the time I put my other hand beside her head. I press my forehead to hers. “Everything I’ve ever said to you. Every look I’ve given you. Every time I’ve touched you. It was never for t
he job, Sloan. Not one fucking time. Do you understand that?”

  She doesn’t respond.

  I wince, because I hate that I’ve put her in this position. I hate that she even doubts me. I hate that I’ve given her all the reason in the world to. And I hate that I don’t know a single goddamn thing I could say to make her believe what I feel for her.

  I lean in and kiss the side of her head, then I lower my arms and wrap them around her.

  I don’t try to convince her with more words.

  I don’t feed her apologies that are way too late.

  I just hug her, because I can’t stand to know she’s feeling what she’s feeling.

  After several moments of being frozen stiff in my arms, she slowly begins to relax. Her hands come up and fist my shirt, and she begins to melt against me. She presses her face against my chest and starts crying, so I cradle her as tight as I can.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper in her damp hair. “You’re all I see, Sloan. Beyond the job, beyond right and wrong. You’re all I see.”

  I press my lips to the side of her head, and when I feel her mouth press against my neck, I pull her closer. She’s still gasping for breath, probably a combination of fear, anger, and our current proximity. We find each other in the dark, and when our lips finally meet, it’s as if she’s silently begging me to kiss away her doubts.

  I do. Our mouths war in desperation. I push her against the wall of the house again. Every second that passes is a second that never should have passed at all, but I can’t stop what’s happening. All I can think about is how I can get more of her.

  When I press into her, she moans against my mouth, and that sound pushes away everything else. The anxiety, the common sense. My need for her completely takes over, and based on the way her hands are sliding inside my shirt, so does hers.

  I’m in the fog and I don’t see myself finding my way out of it anytime soon.

  Fucking hell.

  My mouth works its way down her neck. I bring one of my hands up to her breasts and slide it between her skin and her bra. I’m met with skin as smooth as silk. “God, Sloan,” I whisper, dragging my mouth up her neck again. When I reach her lips, she dips her tongue in my mouth and her hands fall to the button of my jeans.