Page 69 of Caught Stealing

But I have to.

If I know what’s good for my friendship and my fucking sanity…Ineedto.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Mom asks, and I realize I never responded to her.

I’m not the type to keep secrets from Mom or Dad. It might not be considerednormalthese days, but I firmly believe they’re there for me no matter what. With advice, just a listening ear, or whatever it might be.

Yet I can’t bring myself to talk about this right now.

“Just kinda out of it, I guess,” I tell her, eyes focused on Charlotte and Holden. And once again, I have to ignore the way my stomach flutters and my heart races when I catch him smiling down at her.

It’s a mental picture I plan to store in my memory bank for a long time.

Mom’s always been able to read me like a book. It’s one of the many reasons I’m so comfortable talking to her about things. And she proves her capability to read the situation and reach inside my mind hasn’t waned with my going off to college when she gives me another gentle squeeze at the waist.

“Honey, you know you won’t lose Kason just because someone else comes into his life, right? Your friendship is the forever kind. Whatever comes between you two, you’ll come back together, stronger at the end. I have no doubt about it, and neither should you.”

I give Mom a half-hearted smile, knowing in my gut that she’s wrong.

Because after everything that’s happened, there’s no way my friendship with Kason will be the same. Not unless I figure out a way to turn these feelings for Holden off for good.

“What did your Mom mean by you staying here?”

The incredulity in Kason’s voice is unmatched as the question leaves his lips, forcing my attention up from where I’m lounging across my mattress in my childhood room the next morning.

I shift into a sitting position, brows furrowing. “Um…exactly that?”

The decision was made early this morning to not drive back with the rest of the guys—opting to spend the rest of winter break here with my family instead. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them, and it also gives me a little bit of reprieve from the weird, toxic cloud forming whenever Holden, Kason, and I are in the same confined space for too long.

Kason’s arms cross over his chest. “So what am I supposed to do for the next week when I get back to campus?”

I know Kason means no harm by turning this around to how it affects him—after all, it’s a valid point considering he’ll be at the apartment alone—but it still gives me a weird feeling regardless.

Or not alone, if he decides to invite Holden over.

The thought only causes my temper to flare internally, and I let out a dry, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

He just frowns at me, head cocked to the side, like he doesn’t even recognize me. Hell, if he knew half of what’s been running through my head or has been happening with Holden, he surely wouldn’t.

“Why are you acting so weird?”

My brows collide in an effort to play dumb, all the while knowing it’s getting a lot more difficult to do. Especially when I’m having a hard enough time maintaining eye contact. “I’m not acting any weirder than my normal level of weird, Kase.”

“Yeah, you are,” he says, crossing the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’ve been quiet and distant as shit for the past three days. I don’t think you even said a word all day yesterday. Even when Noah or Holden made some stupid comment while we were driving up here—and that isn’t like you.”

The mere mention of Holden sends a rush of heat flowing through my veins. Not the good kind of heat—the kind of lust and desire. No, instead, this is all shame and guilt.

I don’t miss how the regret is lacking, though; that little fact only exacerbates this whole thing.

“I’m just tired,” I tell him, yet another lie slipping off my tongue with ease.

There was a time in my life when I would’ve rather stepped on a Lego or shot myself in the foot than lie to Kason. When I would’ve gone out of my way to kick the ass of anyone who’d dare treat him poorly or hurt him. So the irony isn’t lost on me that I’m doing all those things now, even if he doesn’t realize it’s happening.

“You’re tired?” he repeats, brow hitched up in ayou’re kidding mekind ofway.

“You know the beach always wears me out,” I try reasoning, though it comes out apathetic at best. “All the salt and sand and sun is draining after a while. I need some time to recuperate.”

His eyes continue raking over my face, a clear attempt to read between the lines. “And somehow that equates to you staying here instead of coming back to Chicago with us?”

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