Page 121 of Hot Streak

“I could.” He could ask any number of the guys in the clubhouse. They’d know, too. He was sure the only person pretending that Connor Clark didn’t exist was him.

“There you go,” Charlene said, smiling as she patted his arm. “You send him a nice good luck message. That’ll go a long way to fixing it.”

It wouldn’t fix it at all, but it was something he could do.

Jackson considered the suggestion from every angle—and most of them more than once—as he escorted them back to their hotel room before he had to return to the ballpark for batting practice.

He knew what he wanted to do, and he knew exactly what was stopping him.

“Hey,” Kevin said as he took a few warmup swings, waiting for Deke to finish his own batting session, “you hear from Connor?”

Jackson forced himself not to grimace. “No,” he said. Hoped that Kevin wouldn’t find that odd. Wouldn’t decide to ask why the hell he hadn’t.

“He texted me. Said he’s making his first start tonight.”

Well. That didn’t give him very long to decide what he was going to do—but then, in the end, was there really a decision?

He already knew what he’d be doing the moment batting practice was over.

“Yeah? That’s exciting.”

“He sounds nervous.”

“It was a text, Kev,” TJ said as he wandered over. “There’s only so much you can get from words.”

“I asked him how he was doing, and he just said ‘okay.’ Not even the full word—just two letters!” Kevin sounded genuinely concerned about this. Jackson was torn between telling him that Connor never used more letters when less would do, including some truly bizarre emojis and abbreviations, and asking what else he’d said.

“He’s gonna be just fine. Right, Jackson?” TJ said.

“Right,” Jackson said. But he didn’t sound convincing even to his own ears.

He told himself he’d given Connor the best chance for success, but he wasn’t even sure he really believed that anymore.

He sure hadn’t given himself the best chance for success, either. Batting practice went like shit, his swing behind the ball, and his brain fuzzy with all the things he wasn’t saying, all the thoughts that kept clogging up his focus.

Andy came out and patted him on the arm when he finally called it, heading back to the clubhouse, a frown on his face.

“You alright?” Andy asked.

“I’ll be fine. Just a little off.”

“Ever since Connor left,” Andy said sagely.

“And?” Jackson did not mean to snap at the guy—after all, he genuinely liked him and respected him—but he was so fucking tired of everyone knowing how he felt, even though he’d never said. Had he totally lost his ability to keep his emotions removed?

You know Connor destroyed it. Blew it all to bits. And before three days ago, you were actually happy about it.

That was the worst of it. He had been happy about it.

“And, you’re not stupid. Never were before,” Andy said calmly. “So don’t start now.”

Jackson headed to his locker. Pulled his phone out. Wasn’t surprised to see that while Connor had texted Kevin, he hadn’t texted him.

Why should he? What reasons had he given Connor to think he’d want to hear from him?

He’d argue with himself that the opposite was true, and he hadn’t exactly endeared himself to Connor, either. But he remembered that kiss—and the last thing Connor had said to him.

When you get your head out of your ass, you have my number.

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