Too Late

by Colleen Hoover

I can’t just turn it on and off like he does. The things I see here are the things I see when I close my eyes at night. And based on what I saw between Sloan and Asa today, I won’t be getting much sleep.

I cried because I realized that no matter who he’s become, a part of me still has empathy for him… because I don’t know how not to.

I want to know what it feels like to be kissed by someone who respects me.

I don’t remember a lot about the fight in their bedroom that night. The yelling had become a daily occurrence, so it wasn’t new to me. What was so different about that night was the silence. The house had never been so quiet. I remember lying in bed, listening to myself breathe because it was the only noise in the entire house. I hated the quiet. I hate the quiet.

I just need a few minutes alone in order to do that. Some people recharge by having the energy of other people around them. I am not one of those people. I read once that the difference between an extrovert and an introvert isn’t how you act in a group setting. It’s whether or not those group settings give you fuel or drain you. An introvert can outwardly appear to others to be an extrovert, and vice versa. But

it all comes down to how those interactions influence you internally.

I am definitely an introvert, because people drain me. And now I ne...

He unclenched his fists and dropped her worries, unable to catch them for her. But she picked them back up and dusted them off. She wants to be able to hold them herself now.

but the only thing love relies on for survival is respect. And you don’t get that from him.” She remains silent as she waits for me to get my point across.

But I do love her. Fuck him and his idiotic bullshit philosophies on love. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and when she left me, I knew that.

“Mmm,” she moans again, her sleepy voice breathless. “Carter.” My jaw clenches with her fucking nipple still in my mouth.

She’s staring at me. Her eyes are wide with fear. I’m sure it’s a scary thing to wake up to your boyfriend’s hand around your throat, but she should be lucky she’s not feeling what I’m feeling right now. “Are you fucking him?”

My mother was convincing, too. Look where that landed her.

Good thing my father taught me not to let a woman’s tears fool me.

After inhaling a gasp of air, she blurts out, “I didn’t say Carter, you fucking dipshit. I said harder. I was awake and could feel you kissing me. I wanted you to do it harder.” I stare at her.

A tear falls out of her eye and that’s when I know for sure that she loves me. The thought of spending forever with me just made her cry. God, I love this girl.

Fuck my father and his bullshit philosophies on love.

I can’t believe I said Carter’s name out loud while I slept. Not only could I have gotten myself in a serious situation with Asa—I could have been responsible for whatever Asa would have done to Carter.

I was just honestly too scared for my life to say anything this morning. I’ve never seen him look at me with so much hatred as he did when he thought he heard me moan Carter’s name.

When he did hear me moan Carter’s name.

God, what kind of fucking life am I living right now that I’m choked by two different men in the span of twelve hours?

My knees feel like they’re about to fail me. This is how it should be. This is how guys should make girls feel.

“Sloan,” he whispers, his mouth directly over my ear. “I want everything about you. So goddamn much. To the point that it’s blinding me.”

I want more of whatever it is he makes me feel.

ill for Sloan. “So in your opinion, women don’t have a biological excuse to sleep with more than one man. But men do?” He nods. “Exactly. When a man cheats, it’s purely physical. We’re attracted to a woman’s hips, to her legs, to her ass, to her tits. It’s all about the sexual act. Dick in, dick out. When a woman cheats, it’s purely mental. They’re turned on by emotions. By their feelings. If a woman fucks a man, it’s not because she’s horny. It’s because she wants him to love her.

Holy fuck. People like this actually exist. God help us.

“Love is not found. Love finds.”

“Love finds you in the forgiveness at the tail end of a fight. Love finds you in the empathy you feel for someone else. Love finds you in the embrace that follows a tragedy. Love finds you in the celebration after the conquering of an illness. Love finds you in the devastation after the surrender to an illness.”

May love find you in every traged...

And that’s where love finds you… in the tragedies.

But his face is expressionless. He turns back to the TV and my heart instantly aches for Sloan. The one person in this world she loves doesn’t have the capacity to express his love

in return. No wonder she seems so lonely. She’s probably the loneliest person I’ve ever met.

I refuse to close my eyes as I watch Ryan kick open the door and rush in, followed by several other men. I refuse to close my eyes until Asa is on the floor—several feet away from Sloan—being handcuffed. I refuse to close my eyes until they meet Sloan’s.

She’s off the bed, across the room, on her knees, pressing her hands to my chest, doing everything she can to keep the rest of the life from seeping out of me. I don’t even have enough energy left to tell her it’s too late. I close my eyes for the last time. But it’s okay, because she’s all I see. She’s the last thing I’ll ever see.

Sometimes cancer is cured… sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes people hit their heads and die; most of the time they hit their heads and survive. And anytime you hear of a person beating

the odds… that’s all they’re doing. Beating the odds. Because people never really think about how, in order to beat the odds, a lot of unfortunate deaths have to occur for that particular survival to be considered “out of the norm.”

The journey from first breath to death has nothing to do with miracles, how much you pray, coincidences, or divine intervention.

And this kiss is just the beginning of a whole new book. A book where maybe miracles aren’t that far-fetched.

Love shouldn’t feel like added weight. It should make you feel as light as air.

I guess that’s the difference between being loved the right way

and the wrong way. You either feel tethered to an anchor… or you feel like you’re flying.