Page 88 of Caught Stealing

I give the few people behind me an apologetic smile before slipping between them to get back to where Holden is being held up.

“I understand,” I hear Holden saying as I weave through another set of people. “And I’m sorry your girl is getting shoved around too much. It happens at shows like this. But I’m just trying to get back to my guy.”

The other dude shakes his head and holds his hand out in front of him, motioning to the people crammed together like a can of sardines. “With what room? The way the pit’s been moving, there’s nowhere for you to go.”

I curse silently as I slip past the two girls separating me from Holden and grab the lanyard around my neck.

“He was up here,” I tell the guy, showing him the VIP pass that matches Holden’s. “He just went back to the pit for a while.”

Dude doesn’t even look at Holden, just shrugs and says, “Yeah, and now he can stay back there ‘til the show is over.”

“C’mon, man,” I try reasoning. “You see his pass. Just let him up here.”

Too bad my words fall on deaf ears. Literally, because the band chooses the same moment to kick into another heavy song, and from the look Holden and I share, we know any conversation we could’ve had is now over.

So I do the only thing I can think of—I reach around the guy’s side for Holden to grab my hand so I can pull him through. Yet, the moment my fingers latch onto Holden’s, the guy breaks our hands apart with his forearm.

Even over the bass and the drums, I can hear the guy shout, “I said, stay the fuck back,” directly in Holden’s face, right before he shoves him in the chest.

And I see red.

The thing about venues with standing-room-only…things are bound to get rough. Rowdy, even, and sometimes that can lead to conflicts. I’ve seen it firsthand at shows myself, though they are often few and far between. Usually, it’s just verbal—someone knocking someone else a little too hard in the pit—or a couple girls getting catty because one is too drunk or even too high to act right.

I’d be willing to bet my career in baseball that ninety-nine percent of the time, it never escalates to physical blows.

But when the jackass shoves Holden again—this time, hard enough to push him back into the girls behind him—I have no fucking problem being in the one percent.

Twenty-Five

Holden

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to come in?” I ask, glancing over at Phoenix while he unlocks the door of his and Kason’s apartment. “I know you don’t want him to know anything, so I can go—”

“You’re fine,” he says, shoving the door open into the dark living space. Light illuminates the apartment seconds later, and Phoenix turns to me. “Kason’s back home for his grandad’s eightieth birthday this weekend. We’ve got the place to ourselves.”

I try not to let my mind go anywhere crazy with that knowledge, instead letting the door fall closed and locking it behind us.

Phoenix is already in the kitchen grabbing an ice pack from the freezer when I slip out of my shoes and join him.

“I’m sorry I ruined our date,” I murmur before jumping up on the counter.

“You didn’t, I swear,” he says, flexing his left hand. “It was that asshole’s fault, not yours.”

“Still, if I hadn’t gone in the pit…”

“Hey, it’s fine. I promise.” He steps between my legs while pressing the ice to his hand, and I can see him trying his best not to wince when it makes contact with his busted skin. “It’s not on you when other people are dicks.”

He’s right, obviously. Though I still don’t like ending up here—my actions being the catalyst for this outcome.

“We can always catch another show.”

A small smile creeps over his face. “Yeah, but let’s go backstage next time.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, probably a good idea. Don’t need you throwing punches more than necessary.”

When my eyes rise to find his, there’s something different in his gaze as he looks at me. Something I can’t quite place, despite it being right there under the surface.

My hand moves without thought, lifting to his face and brushing away an errant strand of hair flopping over his forehead. I map his expression as I do this, as if that would be enough to get inside his head and see what he’s thinking.

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