Page 156 of Hot Streak

Connor smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Still kinda can’t believe it. It shouldn’t be me starting on Opening Day.”

“It should absolutely be you,” Jackson argued. “You’ve worked your ass off. You deserve this.”

“Thanks to you,” Connor said, the corner of his mouth tilting up slyly. “Worked me half to death.”

“And you enjoyed every moment of it,” Jackson retorted fondly.

They just stood there, for thirty seconds, basking in each other’s presence again, Jackson knew both of them anticipating the next moment they’d be truly alone and able to kiss and embrace the way they wanted to.

Soon, he told himself.

They’d already started talking about what it would mean, coming out officially. Jackson didn’t know if he really wanted to court the attention, and he no longer worried as much that being honest would destroy Connor’s burgeoning career, but Connor wanted it, wanting to boldly proclaim who he loved—so who was Jackson to stop him? Because Jackson had learned, not just when they’d first gotten together, but every day of the last eight months, that what made him the happiest was making Connor the happiest.

“I got you something,” Connor said, turning to the side and grabbing something from the dugout steps. A package.

“You got me a present?”

“Consider it a thank you for tolerating me when I was such a little shit. What did you like to say? More ego than sense?”

Jackson laughed. “It was entirely my pleasure. I promise.”

“Still,” Connor said and extended the package. “This is for you.”

Jackson unwrapped it quickly, knowing they only had a minute or two more before Alejandro called Connor away for his final warmup.

He shook out the jersey. On the front was the Tampa logo, and on the back, Clark was emblazoned across the shoulders.

“I know it’s a little high school,” Connor said, sounding uncertain for the first time since Jackson had arrived. “But I wanted you to wear it.”

“I . . .” Jackson was unexpectedly emotional over this gift. “I didn’t think I’d wear a jersey again, but yours? I’d love to. I’d be honored to.”

Connor gestured, as if to say, well, let’s see it on.

Jackson didn’t hesitate. Pulled off his T-shirt, enjoying the way Connor’s gaze still went hot and still at the sight of his bare chest, and shrugged on the jersey, buttoning it up.

“Looks good, huh?” Jackson teased him, turning around in a circle.

“With my name across your back? You look amazing. Fucking hot.”

Jackson reached up. Wanted to kiss him—maybe Connor was right about this coming out thing, after all—but he settled for patting his cheek, which frankly turned into more of a caress.

“Alright, enough, you lovebirds,” Alejandro joked as he approached. “Connor, you ready?”

Connor’s blue eyes met his. And he nodded. “Yep, never been readier to announce my authority,” he said—and the little shit, because that had never really changed, and Jackson didn’t want it to change—slid his gaze over to Jackson.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Love you,” Jackson said. Gripped his shoulder. “Get it done, darlin’.”

It killed him, a little, to turn away and walk off the field and head towards his seat, leaving Connor’s start to Alejandro, but that was what he was now. A spectator. A happy spectator, even, but it would still take getting used to.

A few minutes later when Connor was announced, the crowd yelling for their new ace, Jackson was settled into his seat, trying to relax.

Of course, Alejandro was a fabulous catcher. The only catcher Jackson would trust his man with that wasn’t him. But ugh, it was still hard watching, only watching, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do but just sit there and catalog every move, every placement, every pitch.

Still, Connor looked great out there. Probably more relaxed than Jackson did, up in the stands.

He’d gotten several texts from friends, about Connor’s start.

Kevin had sent one, saying it was from both he and TJ, who were both still playing for the Rogues this year, though Kevin had finally made it back in the starting rotation, and it seemed he was there to stay.

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