Home > Too Late(70)

Too Late(70)
Author: Colleen Hoover

She looks at me, but doesn’t smile. She shoots me a look that tells me we need to talk. There’s just not really a way to do that right now. I turn the water on and she walks the meatloaf to the counter next to me. She sticks a knife between the loaf and the pan and begins working it loose.

“I messed up today,” she whispers.

I turn the water to a lower pressure so I can hear her better.

“I found out he’s been lying to me about my brother’s benefits. I confronted him. Told him I was leaving him. He got really angry.”

“Sloan,” I say quietly. Why the hell would she do that? “Are you okay?”

She shrugs. “I am right now. But something is off with him, Carter. I’m scared. He sat in the shower with his clothes on for half an hour. Then when I got home from the grocery store, I looked out the window and saw him sitting on a lounge chair, staring at the pool. Then he just started slapping his palm against his forehead. He did it thirty-six times. I counted.”

Jesus Christ.

She glances up at me and I hate how scared she looks. I should just take her now. Grab her hand, pull her outside while he’s upstairs and get her the fuck out of here.

“Now he keeps saying he has a surprise for me. He’s talking like this dinner is some kind of celebration,” she whispers. “I’m scared to find out what it is we’re celebrating.”

Asa’s footsteps move overhead, like he’s about to head downstairs. Sloan grabs the pan of meatloaf and walks it to the table.

The other two guys must hear Asa heading downstairs as well, because they’re at the sink now, preparing to wash their hands like he instructed.

We help Sloan carry the rest of the food to the table, just as Dalton walks through the front door. It’s only 6:55, but he sees Asa bounding down the stares and he apologizes for being late.

“You aren’t late,” Asa says. “You’re right on time.”

I take a seat, and it ends up being directly across from Asa. Diagonal from Sloan. It’s oddly quiet as everyone passes around the food, divvying it onto their plates. Once all the food has been passed around the table, Asa grabs his fork and says, “Should we say grace?”

No one speaks. We all just stare at him, wondering if he’s kidding or if someone needs to start praying before he flips his shit.

He laughs loudly and says, “You stupid fucks.” He shoves his fork into his mashed potatoes and swallows a bite.

Jon says, “This is twice in a row we’ve had dinner here. What gives? Is this what happens when you become domesticated?”

Asa narrows his eyes in Jon’s direction, then washes his mashed potatoes down with his beer. “Where’s Jess tonight?”

Jon shrugs. “Haven’t seen her in a few days. I think we broke up.”

Asa chuckles, then he looks at me. “Where’s Tillie?”

I run my thumb across my bottom lip. “Working. She might stop by tomorrow night.”

Asa licks his lips, taking another sip of his beer. “That would be nice,” he says. Then he looks at Dalton. “How come you’ve never brought a girl over?”

Dalton speaks with a mouthful of meatloaf. “She lives in Nashville.”

Asa nods, says, “What’s her name?”

“Steph. She’s a singer. She’s why I was almost late, actually. She signed a recording contract today and she called to tell me about it.” He looks proud when he talks about her.

It almost makes me laugh, because there is no Steph. He just made all that shit up on the fly, and Asa swallows it down like a warm glass of milk. “That’s cool,” Asa says.

Asa likes Dalton. I can tell by the way he looks at him-without any suspicion at all. Not like the way he looks at me.

“Something wrong with your fucking mouth, Carter?”

I glance at him and raise my eyebrow.

“You’re rubbing your goddamn lip raw.”

I didn’t even realize I was still rubbing my lip. I pull my hand from my mouth. “All good,” I say, taking a bite of the meatloaf. The last thing I want to do is provoke him. Not with the way he’s been acting lately.

Asa takes another bite of his meatloaf, and then he rests his hands beside his plate. “So,” he says. “I have a little surprise.” He smiles, and then looks over at Sloan. I can see the roll of her throat when she swallows.

“What is it?” she asks, cautiously.

Asa opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off by a loud banging on the front door. I can see the irritation in his eyes as he turns to glance at the living room door. A second loud knock occurs.

He drops his silverware with a loud clank onto the table and looks around at all of us. “Any of you expecting company? In the middle of fucking dinner?”

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