Page 12 of Hot Streak

He’d learned not to be defensive, but it was hard, every single time. Like he was holding his breath, and he didn’t know when or if he could let it out.

“Got a good arm on you, and a good swing. Can settle down a pitcher.” Deke glanced over to where Connor had begun his own warmup. “And that one could use some settling.”

Jackson nodded. He had a feeling Deke wasn’t quite done.

And he wasn’t. He took off his ball cap and ran a hand through his thick curly dark hair. “And, you know, I heard ’bout you too, from Nicky.”

Nicky Condron. One of Jackson’s old hookups out west.

“Didn’t realize you’d spent some time out there.” Didn’t realize you were like me.

“Yeah, a season.” Deke looked at him. “You don’t need to worry here, you know. In case you were concerned.”

Yeah, that was exactly how it felt. He felt something inside him relax.

“Though,” Deke continued, “you better watch out for Clark. He’s got a fucking temper on him. Straight. Gay. White. Brown. Black. It don’t matter. I saw him go toe-to-toe with Andy last week.”

“Yeah, I got a dose of it last night. Blew out a window.”

Deke chuckled. “He tried to fight you? You?”

“He sure wanted to.”

“Kid wants to fight everyone.” And the question Jackson had was why that was. Young, attractive kid going places and he had a chip on his shoulder a fucking mile wide?

Who or what had put it there?

“Except it takes two to fight,” Jackson said.

Deke really laughed then, a deep belly laugh. “I’m gonna like you, even if you’re gonna take some of my at-bats.”

“You think?”

Deke rolled his eyes. “You know you’re gonna, if you’re half as good as promised. So yeah, I’m gonna have to adjust. Put in some time at first.”

“You need help, you just let me know,” Jackson said, patting him on the back.

“Oh, I think you’re gonna have your hands full. But thanks anyway.”

Deke returned the pat, and Jackson approached home plate, settling the bat over his shoulder, feeling good about the state of things.

Would Connor be a pain in his ass?

Undoubtedly.

But Deke, despite Andy’s warnings, was a good guy. And not only would Jackson not be alone here, in his preferences, Deke had already done the hard work of figuring out just how safe it was.

Jackson got set, settling his cleats into the dirt, took a breath and then another and watched the ball fly from Bryan—the hitting coach’s—hand.

He had a nice even throw. Best way to work on fundamentals, and best way for Jackson to get used to a new park, and all the new angles.

He hit a few, let a few go, and listened to everything Bryan mentioned.

Made an adjustment and then took the ball out of the park on both the last two pitches.

Felt damn good to do it, too.

He heard the cheers behind him, as he did it the second time.

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