Page 121 of Caught Stealing

His gaze alone shows that leaving is the last thing he wants to do. If anything, he’s looking at me like he wants to haul me to his chest and take every ounce of pain as his own.

But instead, he nods once, twice. A third time before releasing me, stepping back out of my personal space. The second his touch is gone, I simultaneously feel like I can breathe again, but I’m almost drowning from the surplus of oxygen surrounding me.

Like there’s too much. Like I need someone else to take some of it.

Himto take it.

To steal it straight from my lungs like he’s done countless times before.

Yet instead, he takes another step backward and reaches for his discarded bag before hauling it over his shoulder. That same soft gentleness in his eyes is still there when his attention moves back to me, and I swear I can see all the thoughts swirling in them.

But rather than speaking a single one, he presses his lips to my temple and silently walks out the door.

Thirty-Three

Holden

Thanks to the shit show last night, there’s a feeling of dread swirling in my gut as we enter the stadium for Leighton’s second game againstSt. Sebastian.There’s tension in the air too. It might not be palpable to anyone else, but I feel it whirling overhead like a storm cloud ready to unleash a torrential downpour.

Yet I still climb toward my seat in the bleachers behind left field, despite my better judgment telling me to run the other way. My intuition has never led me wrong before, although I refuse to listen to it now. I can’t, even if this could very well be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And I’ve done a lot of stupid shit, especially when it comes to Phoenix Mercer.

“You sure about this?” Harrison asks, observing me with a fair amount of doubt.

If I’ve ever been sure of anything, it’s that Phoenix is it for me. Yet that doesn’t erase the unsettled feeling low in my stomach as I stare out at the baseball diamond.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

I didn’t see a point in keeping this thing with Phoenix a secret from the three of them anymore after the blow-up with Kason last night, and honestly, I’m glad to tell them. It’s one less burden on my own chest. Three less people I’m keeping secrets from.

While I knew none of them would be shitty about it, I was surprised by just how supportive they were. Harrison especially, since he tends to keep more to himself. But last night, when I came back to our hotel room after Phoenix kicked me out, Harrison proved himself to be the kind of friend most people would kill for. Seeing me so numb and detached and just fucking hurt was a first for him, but he didn’t try to fix anything. Just sat and talked me off the damn ledge after listening to me spew my guts.

Harrison gives me a tentative smile. “Then I think it’s about time you get your man.”

That’s the idea, but unfortunately,getting my manseems to be easier said than done when I have no clue where the two of us stand now that Kason knows.

I texted him good luck well before he was due here before the game. I already left his favorite flavor of sunflower seeds in the dugout, thanks to Theo ensuring he kept Jerry tied around the package so he’d know exactly where it came from.

And seeing as the first pitch is about to be thrown, he should have gotten both those things by now. Should have had thirty seconds to type back a response or a thank you or send out a proof of life message.

But all I’ve received from Phoenix is radio silence.

Which makes me wonder if I’m really about to make a fool of myself for a guy who doesn’t love me back. Who is too hung up on his best friend’s approval to see that this thing between us…it’s what people cross oceans for, what they write songs about.

It’s the kind of love that only comes once in a lifetime.

The one worth breaking all the rules for.

“You got this,” Noah says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Just don’t blow it like you almost did during our volleyball game in Florida.”

“That was a seriously misplaced attempt at support,” Luca tells him before glancing at me. “You’ll be fine, all right? We got your back, no matter what happens.”

It’s good to know, because I honestly feel like I’m gonna be sick. Upchuck the breakfast I barely ate all over the seats in front of me. A feeling that only increases five minutes later when the Timberwolves take the field and Phoenix comes running out toward the outfield.

I can’t even look at him without my heart racing. It’d be romantic if it didn’t feel so fucking pathetic for him to have this much power over me.

But he does, which is precisely why I find myself walking down the stands to the same spot I met him yesterday, ready to say all the things I didn’t when I had the chance.

His back is to me while he focuses on tossing the baseball with his right fielder, and thanks to the NCAA rule only allowing two minutes between innings, my time is already limited. A good thirty seconds have passed in no time, and I need every remaining one to get this out.

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