Too Late
Page 63
Luke hands me my shirt and jeans that Dalton just threw at him. I frantically pull my shirt over my head, embarrassed that we were so careless.
“Is he awake?” Luke asks Dalton.
Dalton eyes him hard, saying so many things with that look that I don’t even begin to understand. “No. But you need to leave before you get us both killed.” Then Dalton turns and looks at me. “And you need to get back in the house before Carter gets you killed.”
He stands up and right before he slams the car door he says, “We need to talk before you leave, Carter.”
I’m struggling into my wet jeans and Luke reaches over to help me. I really should keep calling him Carter in my head, otherwise I’ll likely slip up and call him Luke around Asa.
“Are you in trouble?” I ask him. I button my jeans and then straighten out my shirt. He slides a hand around to the nape of my neck.
“I’m always in trouble, Sloan. I wish I could tell you I’m good at my job, but I think the past hour has proven that my priorities are a little out of line.”
I laugh. “I personally think your priorities for the past half hour were spot-on.”
He kisses me and says, “Go. Be careful.”
I kiss him back, hard. And when I walk away from him this time, it doesn’t hurt quite as much. Because now I have hope.
Hope that he has a plan to get us out of this mess.
***
I smile the entire time I’m in the shower, because when I opened the backdoor and walked into a spotless kitchen, I knew without a doubt it had been Carter who cleaned it.
No one-and I mean no one-has ever lifted a finger to help me around this house. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard that cleaning is the way to a girl’s heart, but based on my reaction, I’d say it’s the way to mine. Because I nearly cried when I heard the dishwasher running.
That’s really sad. Loading a dishwasher means more to me than an engagement ring? From the outside looking in, it would seem my priorities are way out of line, too.
But I much prefer them this way.
Asa is passed out on the bed when I walk into our bedroom. He’s sprawled across the mattress long-ways, naked.
Great. I’m going to have to try and wake him up or roll him to his position, but he’s way too heavy for me.
I walk around to his side of the bed and grab his arm and try pulling him across the mattress. He doesn’t budge, but he does groan between snores.
Then…he vomits.
All over my damn comforter.
I close my eyes and try to remain calm. Of course he would ruin this beautiful night.
He continues vomiting between bouts of groaning, filling the room with an acidic smell. I rush to the desk and retrieve the trash can, then I lean over him and lift his head so that he’s vomiting into the trash can.
He throws up two more times and then finally, after a few minutes of calm, he opens his eyes. When he looks up at me, the terrifying look in his eyes from earlier is gone, replaced with a childlike innocence. “Thank you, baby,” he mutters.
I place the trashcan back on the floor and then put my hand on the side of his head. “Asa, I need you to try and stand up. I need to take the comforter off the bed.”
He rolls over, away from the vomit, and pulls a pillow to his chest, falling back to sleep almost immediately.
“Asa.” I shake him, but he’s out again.
I stand up and look around the room, trying to figure out how I’m going to do this without having to go downstairs and ask for help.
There’s no way I can do this by myself, and I’m not about to sleep downstairs on the couch. Not with Jon here. I’m praying Dalton or Carter are still here, because letting Jon or Kevin know that Asa is out cold will not be doing me any favors when it comes to my safety.
To my relief, Carter and Dalton are standing at the door preparing to leave when I make it downstairs. Carter stands alert when he sees me.
“I need someone to help me lift Asa so I can change my comforter. He threw up everywhere.”
Jon mutters, “Good luck with that,” from the couch.
Carter glares in Jon’s direction and then immediately starts to head to the stairs. I can see the disapproval in Dalton’s eyes, but he begins to follow Carter as well.
When we all make it up to the bedroom, the stench is so bad, I’m forced to cover my nose to keep from gagging.
“Holy shit,” Dalton mutters. He walks straight to a window and opens it. We all look down at Asa and I’m a little embarrassed for him that he’s naked. But knowing Asa, he wouldn’t care. And even if he did, it’s no one’s fault but his own that he’s in this position.
Carter reaches down and tries to shake him awake. “Asa. Wake up.”
“Is he awake?” Luke asks Dalton.
Dalton eyes him hard, saying so many things with that look that I don’t even begin to understand. “No. But you need to leave before you get us both killed.” Then Dalton turns and looks at me. “And you need to get back in the house before Carter gets you killed.”
He stands up and right before he slams the car door he says, “We need to talk before you leave, Carter.”
I’m struggling into my wet jeans and Luke reaches over to help me. I really should keep calling him Carter in my head, otherwise I’ll likely slip up and call him Luke around Asa.
“Are you in trouble?” I ask him. I button my jeans and then straighten out my shirt. He slides a hand around to the nape of my neck.
“I’m always in trouble, Sloan. I wish I could tell you I’m good at my job, but I think the past hour has proven that my priorities are a little out of line.”
I laugh. “I personally think your priorities for the past half hour were spot-on.”
He kisses me and says, “Go. Be careful.”
I kiss him back, hard. And when I walk away from him this time, it doesn’t hurt quite as much. Because now I have hope.
Hope that he has a plan to get us out of this mess.
***
I smile the entire time I’m in the shower, because when I opened the backdoor and walked into a spotless kitchen, I knew without a doubt it had been Carter who cleaned it.
No one-and I mean no one-has ever lifted a finger to help me around this house. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard that cleaning is the way to a girl’s heart, but based on my reaction, I’d say it’s the way to mine. Because I nearly cried when I heard the dishwasher running.
That’s really sad. Loading a dishwasher means more to me than an engagement ring? From the outside looking in, it would seem my priorities are way out of line, too.
But I much prefer them this way.
Asa is passed out on the bed when I walk into our bedroom. He’s sprawled across the mattress long-ways, naked.
Great. I’m going to have to try and wake him up or roll him to his position, but he’s way too heavy for me.
I walk around to his side of the bed and grab his arm and try pulling him across the mattress. He doesn’t budge, but he does groan between snores.
Then…he vomits.
All over my damn comforter.
I close my eyes and try to remain calm. Of course he would ruin this beautiful night.
He continues vomiting between bouts of groaning, filling the room with an acidic smell. I rush to the desk and retrieve the trash can, then I lean over him and lift his head so that he’s vomiting into the trash can.
He throws up two more times and then finally, after a few minutes of calm, he opens his eyes. When he looks up at me, the terrifying look in his eyes from earlier is gone, replaced with a childlike innocence. “Thank you, baby,” he mutters.
I place the trashcan back on the floor and then put my hand on the side of his head. “Asa, I need you to try and stand up. I need to take the comforter off the bed.”
He rolls over, away from the vomit, and pulls a pillow to his chest, falling back to sleep almost immediately.
“Asa.” I shake him, but he’s out again.
I stand up and look around the room, trying to figure out how I’m going to do this without having to go downstairs and ask for help.
There’s no way I can do this by myself, and I’m not about to sleep downstairs on the couch. Not with Jon here. I’m praying Dalton or Carter are still here, because letting Jon or Kevin know that Asa is out cold will not be doing me any favors when it comes to my safety.
To my relief, Carter and Dalton are standing at the door preparing to leave when I make it downstairs. Carter stands alert when he sees me.
“I need someone to help me lift Asa so I can change my comforter. He threw up everywhere.”
Jon mutters, “Good luck with that,” from the couch.
Carter glares in Jon’s direction and then immediately starts to head to the stairs. I can see the disapproval in Dalton’s eyes, but he begins to follow Carter as well.
When we all make it up to the bedroom, the stench is so bad, I’m forced to cover my nose to keep from gagging.
“Holy shit,” Dalton mutters. He walks straight to a window and opens it. We all look down at Asa and I’m a little embarrassed for him that he’s naked. But knowing Asa, he wouldn’t care. And even if he did, it’s no one’s fault but his own that he’s in this position.
Carter reaches down and tries to shake him awake. “Asa. Wake up.”
