Page 131 of Caught Stealing

Meet me at the Kappa Sig house tonight.

Seven o’clock, the bedroom at the top of the stairs.

I’ll understand if you don’t show, but I really hope you do.

—Nix

Taking a deep breath, I fold the note closed and beg the pulse in my throat to slow, except it’s no use. Phoenix Mercer has my heart in a chokehold, and he’s making no sign of ever letting it go.

Not that I want him to. It’s just that moments like this…make me wish he’d loosen the grip a bit. Allow me to breathe a little easier.

Maybe luck will be on my side tonight, and he will.

Or maybe he’ll rip it from my chest and crush it in his fist.

Thirty-Six

Holden

I walk up the steps to the Kappa Sig house thirty minutes late, a heavy feeling of nausea in my stomach. Or dread. Maybe both, because I have no idea what I’m about to walk into, even after playing out every possible scenario in my head all afternoon.

So much so, I almost didn’t finish my final in time. Too busy thinking up different ways Phoenix can break my heart even more than he already has to focus on the test. And though I’m a pretty positive person, there’s only one scenario where I get the guy in the end, so the odds aren’t exactly in my favor here.

I push open the door, my gut still churning with anxiety as I internally chant one single sentence.

Here’s to hoping I’m wrong.

Plenty of people greet me when I enter the house, including a few of my teammates. Luca and Noah are chatting with a couple of girls in the living room, and I even see Oakley milling around back in the kitchen. He spots me and heads my way the second his cup is topped off with beer.

“Hey, Hold. What’s up?” he asks, eyeing me with concern.

My stomach rolls and twists into knots as I pull the little flamingo duck from my sweatshirt pocket and show it to him. He plucks it from my fingers, flips over the tag around its neck, and reads the note. His eyes widen slightly as he does, only for him to hand the whole thing back to me once he’s finished.

“Looks like you’re finally getting your answer after all,” he muses, even as the apprehension is still evident in his gaze. “How are you feeling about it?”

I shake my head, trying to shove down all the emotions running rampant through me. “I’ll let you know when my heart stops racing.”

“Sounds about right.” His answer comes out somewhat clipped, and I realize he knows this kind of love-induced anxiety well. It wasn’t long ago that he put his own heart on the line—for Quinton de Haas, of all people.

It worked out in the end for him, though, and all I can do is hope it will for me too.

As if on cue, Quinton strolls up to us, and I watch with unmatched amounts of jealousy as Oakley slips his arm around his boyfriend’s waist.

“What’s going on?” Quinton asks, eyeing me through a pair of dark lenses.

Anticipation and fear war inside me as I glance at the stairs leading to the door where Phoenix said he’d be waiting for me—the battle between them causes my stomach to churn with more unease.

“I might actually be sick.”

Oakley’s hand squeezes my shoulder before giving Quinton a quick run-down, and I shift my focus back to them in time to see Quinton eyeing me quizzically.

“I know you have no reason to trust me on this, but speaking from personal experience…” Quinton trails off, shooting a quick glance at Oakley before his icy eyes return to me. “Phoenix taking the time he needs is a good thing. My temper didn’t just go away overnight. It took a ton of hard work to get that shit under control, no matter how badly I wanted it to be instant. Change takes time.Heneeds time, but that doesn’t mean he cares about you any less.”

It’s a concept I understand in theory. After all, breaking habits and forming new ones takes tons of work. But fuck, the part of me that craves instant gratification hates it anyway.

Oakley nods in agreement with de Haas before giving me a half-hearted smile. Compassion and empathy swirl in his eyes as he murmurs, “Go, Hold. It’s only gonna get worse the longer you put it off, and it’s better to know for sure. Otherwise, you’ll just keep wondering about what could have been.”

Oakley’s wrong about one thing, though; the feeling only gets worse thecloserI get to knowing. Builds as I climb the stairs and amplifies still when I reach the door, my fingers wrapping around the knob to turn it.

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