Page 30 of Hot Streak

Ro popped his head into the clubhouse. “You comin’, Comet? What about you, Jackson?”

Jackson wasn’t like these young kids—able to burn the candle at both ends—and he’d had every intention of going home and going to sleep, but something in Connor’s hard eyes changed his mind.

“Sure.” He patted Connor on the shoulder. “Let’s go get a drink. I’ll even buy the first round.”

Connor bristled, and then, like Jackson had said the right thing, even though he had no idea what it was, he relaxed, his shoulders slumping.

“That an apology?” Connor said.

“If it makes you feel better to think so, yeah, sure.”

“See?” Ro teased as they exited the ballpark. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Chapter 5

Everything was not fine.

Connor glowered into his beer, watching as Jackson chatted easily with Ro, TJ, Kevin, Charlie—Millie throwing in a few comments here or there as she passed by on her rounds.

There was a part of Connor that wanted to claim sullenly that they’d never tried to include him. That they were ignoring him. But he knew that wasn’t true. They’d made an effort, for at least the first round, but when he’d only sulked, they’d gradually left him alone.

Probably deservedly, Connor thought.

He finished his beer, and Millie stopped by.

He didn’t even have the motivation to flirt with her, even half-heartedly, tonight. Or continue pestering her to introduce him to her friends. He was officially pathetic, not even able to drum up his own hookups.

“Heard you pitched a great game,” she said, picking up his empty glass. “Want another?”

Connor nodded. “It was . . .” A win. Eight strikeouts. And only two earned runs. You post a two-point-o ERA for the rest of your career, you’ll be a first ballot Hall of Famer for sure.

He didn’t know what was worse: that Jackson was right, or that he’d been sulking like a whiny child who hadn’t gotten to play with his favorite toy.

“It was actually pretty good,” Connor continued, forcing his mouth into a smile.

“Well, I’ll grab your beer,” Millie said with an answering grin.

When she set it down, Charlie broke off from the other group and wandered back over.

“Hey,” Charlie said, settling down next to him.

“Hey,” Connor answered hesitantly. He didn’t know if he was going to get his friend, who’d been his trusted catcher for the last season and a half, or the guy he didn’t quite recognize, who’d begun drinking the Jackson Evans Kool-Aid with everyone else on the fucking team.

“You know this is good for you, yeah?” Charlie didn’t let Connor answer, just kept going. “He’s good for you. In a way I wasn’t.”

“Is this your version of the get your head out of your ass talk? ’Cause I already got one version from Kevin.”

“Didn’t stick, huh?” Charlie teased quietly.

“Didn’t want it to.” It was easier to be honest with Charlie. They’d been close since the season had started, months ago.

“Well, Evans is a good guy. A fucking great catcher. Not that I’m terrible, but you needed more than I could give. I know that. I let you get away with too much shit.” Charlie sounded regretful. Like he hated the thought he’d let Connor down.

And that was even worse.

“No,” Connor said. “You were—you were what I needed.”

“Yeah.” Charlie paused. “Needed. Not need. So stop fightin’ him, okay?”

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