Page 56 of Hot Streak

“You’re all clear, but baby it, alright?” The trainer said. “Lots of ice. I’ll give you some of those painkillers—”

“No,” Jackson interrupted. Why should he bother taking them if he wasn’t going to use them?

“Then some topical cream. It won’t go deep, but it’ll at least make it a little more comfortable. Easier to sleep,” the guy said and handed him the tube before Jackson could protest.

He was finally on his way out of the clubhouse when Deke caught him. “Hey,” he said. “You doing okay?”

“Been better,” Jackson grumbled.

“Come out and have a beer with some of us guys,” Deke persuaded. “Maybe a little homegrown painkiller?”

“Nah, I’m beat,” Jackson said.

“You sure?” Deke asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sure,” Jackson said. “I’m gonna rub this cream on and hopefully fall asleep.”

“Good luck with that,” Deke said wryly.

He’d hoped that Connor would go out with Deke and the other guys, but sure enough, there he was in the room when he opened the door.

He gave Connor a glowering look.

“How’re you doing?” Connor asked, having the nerve to look concerned, still. “Is it just a bruise? Did you get it checked out? Did they give you anything?”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it, it doesn’t make it true,” Connor said, his voice sounding annoyingly self-righteous.

Chapter 9

Connor supposed he shouldn’t have expected a thank you. Or really, any kind of positive acknowledgment at all.

He’d done what he’d needed to do. Skipper knew that. He respected what Connor had done to defend Jackson and to defend the Rogues.

He hadn’t thrown at that guy because he’d wanted to. He’d done it because he’d needed to.

If Jackson hadn’t stopped him, he’d have clipped him. No questions asked.

How was it possible he didn’t even really like Jackson, but he already felt protective over him? Like he’d told him the other day, he was his. Sometimes it was hard to accept Jackson’s control over his pitching, but at least he believed that Jackson always wanted to do the best thing for him.

Maybe that wasn’t like. Maybe the pesky attraction he kept feeling towards the guy wasn’t like either, but together, those two things added up to something.

But God if he knew what it was.

Only that he burned with it, even when he was trying to ignore Jackson, trying to give him the space he’d asked for.

For a day or so after Jackson had told him to back off—when he’d accused him of deliberately testing him, of trying to flirt with him to soften him—Connor had hoped his blunt words might be what killed this attraction dead.

But it hadn’t.

Not even close.

Neither did Jackson’s eye roll at Connor’s concern.

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say you’re fine, it doesn’t make it true,” Connor pointed out.

“Yeah, well, I’m still gonna do it.”

---