Too Late

Not to mention, the house is a constant pigsty.

I start in the living room and throw away enough beer bottles to fill a thirty-gallon trash bag. When I reach the kitchen and witness the mountain of dishes piled in the sink, I actually smile. This should waste at least an hour. I organize the dirty dishes to the left of the sink and begin filling the basin with water. I begin to sway to the music spilling into my ears from the headphones. I haven’t felt so at peace in this house since the first two months I lived here. Back when the good Asa was around.

As soon as memories of the Asa I fell in love with flood my mind, I feel his arms wrap around me from behind and he begins swaying to the music with me. I smile and keep my eyes closed and wrap my hands in his, then lean back against his chest. He kisses my ear, then laces his fingers with mine and spins me around to face him. When I open my eyes, he’s smiling down at me with a genuinely sweet expression. I haven’t seen this look in his eyes in so long, it actually makes my heart ache, knowing how much I’ve missed it.

Maybe he really is trying. Maybe he’s tired of this life, too.

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me—a long, passionate kiss that I forgot he was even capable of. Lately, the only time I get kissed is when he’s on top of me in our bed. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back. I kiss him desperately. I kiss the old Asa, not knowing how long I’ll have him here with me like this.

He pulls back and takes the headphones out of my ears.

“Somebody wants a continuation of this morning, huh?”

I kiss him again and smile, nodding my head. I do. If this is the Asa I’ll get in my bed, I actually do.

He puts his hands on my shoulders and laughs. “Not in front of the company, Sloan.”

Company?

I squeeze my eyes shut, scared to turn around, unaware that we were being observed.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” he says. He spins me around and I open one eye, then the other, hoping the shock I feel in my stomach isn’t clearly sprawled across my face. Leaning up against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest and a hard look in his eyes, is all six feet of Carter.

I gasp, mostly because he’s the last person I expected to see here. Standing in front of him now is suddenly more intimidating than sitting next to him in class was this morning. He’s a lot taller than I thought—taller than Asa, even. He’s not as defined as Asa, but then again, Asa works out every day and, based on the size of his biceps, probably dabbles in steroids. Carter is more naturally built, with a darker complexion and darker hair—and at the moment, very dark, angry eyes.

“Hey,” Carter says, easing his expression with a smile, extending his hand to me without a trace of recognition on his face. I realize he’s pretending not to know me for my own benefit—or perhaps for his own benefit, so I return his handshake, introducing myself to him for the second time today.

“I’m Sloan,” I say shakily, hoping he can’t feel my racing pulse through the palm of my hand. I cut the handshake short and pull back. “So how do you and Asa know each other?” I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but the question spills out of my mouth anyway.

Asa puts his arm around my waist and spins me in the other direction, away from Carter. “He’s my new business partner, and right now we’ve got business to conduct. Go clean somewhere else.” He pats me on the ass, attempting to shoo me away like a dog. I spin around and scowl at him, but it’s not nearly as intense as the hatred spilling out of Carter’s eyes as he watches Asa.

I normally don’t push things with Asa, especially in front of other people, but I can’t help my temper right now. I’m furious at his cavalier attitude about bringing in someone else, despite the fact that he promised me he was getting out. I also can’t deny the fact that I’m pissed that it’s Carter. I’m angry at myself for developing a false first impression of him in class today. I thought I was better at reading people, but the fact that he’s involved with Asa shows me that I don’t know a damn thing about reading people. He’s just like the rest of them, but I should expect it by now. As hard as I try—as hard as it was leaving my childhood home in order to get away from this same type of lifestyle, only to end up right back in it—it makes me feel ignorant. How can I crave and work toward a normal life so incredibly bad, yet I keep falling right back in the middle of this shit? It’s a damn curse.

“Asa, you promised.” I toss my hand in Carter’s direction. “Hiring new people isn’t getting out...it’s getting in deeper.”

I feel hypocritical asking him to stop doing what he does. Every month I let him send a check for Stephen’s care with the same dirty money I wish he wasn’t making. But it’s easier for me to allow that, since it’s not for me. I’d take the dirtiest money there is if it meant my little brother would be taken care of.

Asa’s eyes grow dark and he takes a step toward me. He gently places his hands on my arms and rubs them up and down. He leans his mouth in toward my ear and increases his grip on my arms, squeezing with all his force until I wince from the pain.

“Don’t embarrass me,” he whispers quietly enough that only I can hear him. He eases his grip and runs his hands down to my elbows, then kisses me lovingly on the cheek for show. “Go put on that sexy red dress. We’re having a party tonight to celebrate.”

He steps back and releases me from his grip completely. I glance at Carter, who’s still standing in the doorway, eyeing Asa like he could rip his head off at any second. He cuts his eyes to mine and for a second they grow softer, but I don’t hang around long enough to be positive. I turn and run up the stairs to the bedroom. I slam the door and fall onto the bed. The muscles in my arms are throbbing from the pain, so I try to rub it away. It’s the first time he’s ever physically hurt me in front of someone, but the injury to my pride hurts so much worse. I never should have questioned him in front of someone. I know better.

But I also know that I don’t deserve what he just did to me. No one does. I want to grab my bags and pack everything I own. I want to leave and never come back. I want out. I want out, I want out, I want out.

But I can’t leave. It’s not just me who would be affected.





“Sorry about her,” Asa says, turning back to me.

I unclench my fists and attempt to hide my disdain. I’ve known him all of three hours, and I’ve never despised someone more in my entire life.

“It’s all good,” I reply. I walk over to the bar and casually ease myself into one of the seats at the table, despite the fact that I want to run upstairs and make sure Sloan’s okay. My mind is still reeling from the fact that Sloan is involved in this. She was the last person I expected to run into coming here. Watching Asa kiss her like he did, and watching her respond like she did, made me officially regret taking on this assignment. This just became a hell of a lot more complicated.

“She live with you?” I ask.

Asa hands me a beer out of the fridge and I untwist the top, then bring it to my mouth. “Yep,” he says. “And I’ll cut off your dick if you so much as look at her the wrong way.”

I eye him, but he doesn’t skip a beat. He shuts the door to the refrigerator and saunters to his seat on the other side of the bar as though the sentence never even left his mouth. That he can physically hurt her like he just did, then act like he gives a shit about her, has me floored. I want to bust the fucking beer bottle against his head, but instead I grip it harder, keeping my temper in check.

He opens his beer and raises the bottle. “To money,” he says, clinking the bottle against mine.

“To money.” And watching assholes get what they deserve.

Dalton walks in, interrupting with perfect timing. He looks at me and nods, then turns his attention to Asa. “Hey, man. Jon wants to know what to do about the alcohol situation. Is it BYOB tonight, or are we providing, because we don’t have shit.”

Asa slams his beer down on the bar and shoves his chair back, standing up. “I told that asshole to stock up yesterday.” Asa storms out of the kitchen.

Dalton nudges his head toward the front door and I get up and follow him outside. Once we’re alone in the middle of the front yard, he turns toward me and takes a swig of his beer, mostly for show. Dalton hates beer.

“How’d it go? You think you’re in?” he asks.

I shrug. “I guess. He’s desperate for someone who can speak Spanish. I told him I was good, but not fluent.”

Dalton gapes at me. “Just like that? No questions asked?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “God, he’s such a dumbass. Why do the new ones think they’re so untouchable? Fucking pretentious prick.”

“Yep,” I say in whole-hearted agreement.