Page 22 of Hot Streak

He’d had a few theories, but he was curious enough which it was—he told himself that was the only reason he’d ended up asking Connor about it.

“I don’t want to make shit awkward,” Connor said, sounding awkward himself.

“You sure didn’t have trouble bragging about your Jag to me, first night we met,” Jackson teased.

“Yeah, but that’s different.” Connor pushed his spoon hard into the ice cream.

“Okay.” Jackson understood, actually.

The kid wasn’t all bad. Not all the way through. Not even skin-deep in fact.

“Just okay?”

“It’s a nice thing you’re doing. That’s all. Keep doing it, if you want.”

“You’re really not going to tell them?” Connor sounded incredulous.

“Why would I?”

“Because you seem to enjoy giving me trouble,” Connor complained.

“Only ’cause you won’t listen.” Jackson crunched through his cone.

That was what he kept telling himself anyway.

“Ro and TJ just . . .” Connor took a deep breath. “They were there for me, when I came out here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I was traded to Raleigh from California in the offseason.”

“What a shock,” Jackson teased.

Connor glared. “And I came out here, and I didn’t know anyone. It was hard adjusting. They just made it easier. So I wanted to make something easier on them.”

“Where you from originally?”

“California. The Dodgers drafted me. And then this offseason traded me.”

“Ah.” The kid had never really been away from home before this. No wonder he was a fucking mess.

“Does it get easier?”

“Moving around? Always having to make yourself at home in a new place?”

Connor nodded.

“No. Not really. Sorry, kid.” Jackson almost added, but you won’t have to worry about that, not when you got an arm like that.

Why didn’t he?

Because tomorrow he was going to have to fight him, probably on every single goddamn pitch, and Connor didn’t need his ego boosted any more than it already was.

But then, Jackson considered as he rose and Connor followed, he hadn’t seemed particularly egotistical tonight.

Not anxious either.

Just . . .blank.

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