Too Late

SLOAN-29

Sloan

I’ve never missed a single Sunday visiting my brother. And even though I’ve been in bed since Carter walked away Friday night, pretending to be sick, I somehow pulled myself out of my slump today.

Asa and all his friends went to the casino. It’s about a three-hour drive north and my brother is an hour drive south. It’s sad, but I feel like the more distance I put between Asa and myself today, the better I’ll feel. The more I’ll be able to breathe.

Right before I walk out of my bedroom, I pause in the doorway. I reach to my left hand and slip off the ring, setting it on the dresser. I’ll be home way before Asa gets back, so he won’t notice I didn’t wear it today.

But my hand will feel a million pounds lighter.

I stop in the kitchen to make myself a drink for the road. When I reach for the freezer to grab ice, my hand tightens around the door handle. My eyes fall to the new words written on the dry erase board.

Pickles don’t feel guilty when people yodel, so why aren’t the sheets ever folded on Tuesday?

I have no idea when Carter wrote this, but I know he wrote it to try and make me feel better about the way he had to leave Friday night. He wrote it to try and make me laugh.

It works, because I’m smiling for the first time in two days when I open the freezer.

I fill my cup with ice and soda, then grab an extra soda for Stephen. They don’t let him keep sodas in his room due to his health restrictions, so I always sneak him an extra one on Sundays as a treat. With his doctors permission, of course. I just don’t tell Stephen that.

I grab my purse, my keys and the drinks and start to head for the door when I receive an incoming text. I wait until I’m at my car to pull my phone out of my purse and read it.

Carter: Pick me up on the corner of Standard and Wyatt. I want to go with you.

My cheeks heat up at the unexpected text. I thought he was with Asa and the guys today. I start to text him back, but another text comes through.

Carter: Also, never respond to my texts. And delete both of these.

I do what he requests and then I back out of my driveway and head to the corner of Standard and Wyatt. It’s only a few streets down, and I know he wants me to pick him up there because it’s safer than leaving his car in the driveway. But I’m still confused as to how he knew I was even going anywhere.

I’m filled with anticipation as I search for him. When I round the corner of Standard, he’s right where he said he’d be, standing alone on the curb, hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans. He smiles when he sees me and it hurts. And feels incredible. When I come to a stop, he opens the door and climbs inside the car.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Going with you to visit your brother.”

“But…how? How did you get out of gambling? And how did you even know when I was leaving?”

He smiles at me and then leans across the seat and wraps his hand in my hair. He rests his lips against mine and says, “I have my ways.” He kisses me and then moves back to his side of the seat. He pulls on his seatbelt. “If you think it’s too risky for me to go inside the building with you, I don’t mind waiting in the car. I just really needed some time alone with you.”

I try to smile, but having him this close reminds me of Friday night, and how pathetic I sounded when I tried to beg him to run away with me.

I wasn’t thinking things through. I can’t just up and leave, I’m in the middle of getting my college degree. I can’t pull Stephen out of his facility and drag him on a cross country road trip. He’s happy there and I’d be doing him a disservice.

I just want out so bad, and after feeling what I felt when Carter kissed me, I got emotional. And it made me wish he was wrong-that he really could save me.

Carter reaches across the seat for my hand. “Sloan. Can you make me a promise today?”

I glance over at him. “Depends on what it is.”

“I can see in your expression that you’re thinking about Friday night. Let’s not talk about Asa today. Or what we both know needs to happen. I don’t even want to discuss the possibility of getting caught, or how stupid I am for coming with you. Let’s just be Sloan and Luke today, okay?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Luke? Who is Luke? Are we role playing?”

His jaw twitches and he says, “I mean Carter. I used to go by my middle name when I was younger. Hard habit to break.”

I shake my head and laugh. “Do I make you that flustered that you can’t even remember which name you go by?”

He grips my hand tighter and smiles. “Stop making fun of me. And don’t ever call me Luke, only my grandfather called me Luke and it’s weird.”