Page 71 of Caught Stealing

Because he’s not meant for you.

But I can’t say that. I can’t possibly begin to explain how and why I know that, either.

So I say the only thing I can, instead.

“I’m sorry, Kase. I’m really fucking sorry.”

Twenty-One

Phoenix

January

The first day of the spring semester comes before I can blink. And with it, a change of schedule, a brand new set of classes, and plenty more sleepless nights of studying. But it also means my favorite time of year is finally here: baseball season.

Sure, Coach wants us in the weight room during the off-season, but starting today, we’re officially adding the cages and fielding drills to the mix. It’s the normalcy and peace I’ve been craving for months, even if it means I’m rarely home.

Though that fact is more a blessing than a curse right now, seeing as I don’t have the heart to look Kason in the eye anymore.

He was asleep when I got in from Nashville last night, and I made sure to leave for my morning lifting session before he woke—still not ready to face him. Avoiding him won’t work forever, though it’s what’s necessary until I figure out how to navigate this friendship after what I’ve done to betray him. Especially when he texted me a few days ago with the news that Holden had cut things off with him.

I think we’re better off as friends,is what Kason relayed to me—and like the asshole I am—I told him he’d find someone twenty times more deserving of his time.

My stomach swirls as the sordid events over the past few weeks replay through my head, the memories threatening to have my breakfast make a reappearance right in the middle of this lecture hall.

I’d thought Holden ending things with Kason would make me feel a little better about everything that happened between us in St. Pete’s, but I was wrong. The guilt has only grown. To the point of festering, and I might as well be eaten alive by it.

At least I don’t have to see either of them anytime—

“Is this seat taken?” a familiar voice cuts through my thoughts.

My eyes sink closed, and I bite my tongue to keep a string of expletives from slipping free. All in the hopes that when they reopen, the sound of Holden’s voice would only be a figment of my imagination rather than a reality.

But the illusion is rapidly shattered when he says, “Just because you close your eyes doesn’t mean I’m going to disappear.”

“I was hopeful,” I mutter, lifting my lids to find him staring down at me only a few feet away.

He’s still his sinfully good-looking self; same as he was before everything that happened in Florida. But something about the look in his eyes has changed. The mischief and playfulness have dulled, enveloped by a tinge of sadness.

A strange sight on him.

“I’m surprised you even waited to sit down,” I catch myself saying as I stare up at him, still analyzing his features. I’ve been learning to read the lines of his face for the past few months, though all that time of digging under his skin and messing with him isn’t enough. No matter how hard I try, I still can’t get a read on him.

The corner of his mouth lifts, the tiniest amount of his playfulness shining through the sorrow. “Last time I did that, I was called a douchebag.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, probably won’t be the last.”

His grin grows, curling into a real smile now as he lets out a soft laugh. “Well, let’s just say I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.”

If he was trying to pique my curiosity with his statement, he succeeded. But not enough to erase the plethora of emotions swirling through me thanks to his presence, specifically when he drops his bag to the ground and sits beside me.

I glance toward the front of the room, wishing like hell to be anywhere except here. I’d rather be stuck in a room with Kason, forced to tell him every damn thing that happened in Florida, than suffer through the next fifty minutes with Holden silently sitting next to me.

All while feeling the heat radiating from his skin and smelling the muskiness of his cologne.

It’s the worst form of torture.

“Why are you here, Holden?” I ask softly.

---