Page 32 of Hot Streak

“I don’t know . . .guess I just didn’t realize.” Because suddenly, I’m seeing him in a whole different light.

Connor couldn’t help it. He looked up at Jackson now, laughing with TJ and Kevin. Their eyes met, and goddamn it, that internal trembling made sense now.

Hadn’t Maya said it the other week? Everyone’s on a spectrum, Connor. Even you.

He’d denied it at the time, but maybe there was more to this than he’d assumed.

Because it wasn’t like he’d had an even remotely normal reaction to Jackson Evans.

“Well, now you know. It’s kinda like Deke—sort of an open secret, you know how it is.” Charlie looked worried now, like he might actually think Connor might betray that confidence. And bullshit.

“You know I’m not gonna go blabbing about it. I sure didn’t about Deke.”

“’Course you didn’t. You’re not an asshole. I didn’t mean that. Just . . .I don’t want to give you another reason to give Jackson a hard time.”

“Shit, I don’t—”

Charlie shot him a look. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, Connor. You know you are. But I think Jackson could give you a real run for your money. Don’t go down that path with him. It’s not worth it, for either of you. Or for this team. Don’t you want to win another minor league championship?”

“I want to win a fucking World Series,” Connor retorted.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t we all?” Charlie chuckled. “This year, let’s settle for another minor league championship. But that means you can’t go off the fucking rails, alright? And you’d send Jackson down with you, and he doesn’t deserve that.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll try to listen to him more,” Connor agreed. “You can go report back. I was a good little pitcher. I heard you out. All of it.”

Charlie grinned. “Why don’t you tell them yourself?”

Because if he went over there, Jackson would be there, he would be right there, and Connor didn’t know how to deal with him. Not now that he knew all the things that were suddenly a possibility, when they hadn’t been before.

They’re still not a possibility. He’s not a possibility.

But that fire that simmered inside him—the fire that he knew wouldn’t be quenched by Millie or any of her friends—argued otherwise. Even worse, Connor didn’t think he was alone in feeling this way. Or alone in not wanting to feel this way.

“I’m good here. I’m just gonna finish my beer. Head off.”

Charlie stood, patted his shoulder. “It was a great game, really. You pitched lights out. Could see what you could be, Connor.”

Connor had caught glimpses of it too—but grabbing them and holding on to them was still elusive.

He finished his beer. Waved Millie over.

“Whatcha need?” she asked, leaning her hip against his table.

“Just need to take care of my tab—and uh, the others.” Connor remembered what Jackson had said about it, the other night. But it was a habit now, and maybe a habit he shouldn’t break.

“Too late,” Millie said. “It’s already done.”

“What?”

Millie glanced over at Jackson, who must’ve sensed the conversation occurring now, because he raised his glass, right at Connor, and grinned fiercely.

That smile hit Connor right in the solar plexus.

It wasn’t—

He wasn’t—

“Fine,” Connor said, standing up. He couldn’t sit here anymore, turning this over and over in his mind. He was tired, aching all over from his start, and if he was lucky, he’d drop right into a dreamless sleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

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