Maid For Beckett Catching The Baseball Legend’s Heart novel Chapter 67

op of the second inning, Carter was on the mound again. This time, Beckett was in the dugout, watching my ex play with circumspection. This wasn’t something out of the ordinary, but the cameramen didn’t lie low for a bit, focusing their lenses on Beckett instead of the players on the field.

At first, Carter looked unfazed. He was doing his ritual on the mound before pitching, prepping the ball inside his gloves, looking away from the batter, and then throwing it. I was not an expert in baseball, but with all the time I spent with Carter, 1 knew something shifted in his confident demeanor. His shoulders were rigid, the veins in his neck were almost jutting, like they were about to burst. His eyes… god, those same eyes that stared at me like his world revolved around me were wildly unfocused. He doesn’t keep eyes on the batter, but it kept sweeping over the reapers‘ dugout… at Beckett. And when he threw the pitch, it was way off the strike zone.

The crowd gasped as their catcher stood up just to reach the ball. Even the umpire moved away from the home plate to avoid being hit by Carter’s pitch.

I had seen Carter play on TV for all of his major league career, and this is his worst pitch, and we’re only at the second inning.

Carter wasn’t happy. He pressed his lips into a hard line as he shook his head, shaking off the tension in his shoulder.

“That’s a messy pitch,” Siobhan sighed. “I think he didn’t expect to see Beckett play today.”

I looked away from Carter and turned to Siobhan, because I could sense that she was ready to spill whatever secret she knew about Beckett’s pitching career these days.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

Siobhan shrugged. “Beckett is going through some personal stuff, is all,” she said. “And he hadn’t played in since the season started.”

“But he had been practicing in the estate,” I said, lowering my voice so our seatmates wouldn’t hear me. It’s a huge advantage that we were seated on the aisle. It’s easier to gossip than to watch the game. “I see him throwing balls every morning in the field. He makes the dog fetch the ball for him.”

“Hmm,” Siobhan hummed. “I figured he can’t stay away from baseball that easily. This game runs in his blood.”

‘Stay away?‘ I thought. ‘Why would Beckett need to stay away?‘

“And you, why don’t you like baseball?” I pressed.

“I don’t ‘not like‘ the game,” she answered. “This is my business‘ lifeline, but it just brings back too many memories. You get

it.”

I still don’t know a lot about Siobhan, so I took a mental note that on my day off, I would take her out on a girl date, and it would be all about her this time.

“Is that the reason you hired me?” I teased. “Because I said I hate baseball?”

She giggled. The girl beside her gives Siobhan a side–eye. “Yeah, that was the winning answer. I knew you wouldn’t be a pushover when it came to Beckett since you’re not a fan.”

I giggled, and my gaze flew back into the game.

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Chapter 67

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The air in the stadium felt thicker as the scoreboard showed three balls, two strikes for Carter’s second batter. There’s a runner on first base, and Carter looked like he’d rather be out in the rain than be on that mound right now.

And there was a charge in the air that had nothing to do with the game. Every time the camera cut to the field, it wasn’t the ball they lingered on–it was the starting pitchers.

Beckett and Carter.

Beckett was languidly nibbling a sunflower seed as he watched the game. And Carter looked like he got a nail stuck in his butt. He looked weary, and he needed a break yesterday.

Carter was struggling; anyone with eyes could see that as he threw the next pitch. It was once again way off the strike zone, and he walked the second batter.

The Mariners fans were starting to feel the pressure. Zero out, and the first and second bases were loaded. If Carter messed up with this next batter, it would load the bases.

“What is going on with him?” Siobhan left the question hanging between us.

“THROW THE BALL IN THE FUCKING STRIKE ZONE!” one of the audience members above us shouted.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, BENETTE?!” another screamed.

This isn’t good. I see the beads of sweat forming at the back of Carter’s neck. He was feeling the tension of the game and the pressure from their fans, too.

He threw another pitch, and another, all ending up in a walk. The bases are loaded now, but the Mariners manager didn’t make a move to replace Carter. It was too early to relieve him.

The next batter on the line was Jace. As a catcher, I think he has a good chance of hitting a grand slam.

And a few pitches later, that became a reality. The uproar of the Reaper’s fans made the bench vibrate. The reapers were killing this game, and Carter was humiliating himself.

After Jace’s grand slam, the Mariners‘ manager stepped out of the dugout and relieved Carter from pitching. This was the earliest inning Carter had been plucked out from the field in his major league career. It was pure torture watching the Mariners‘ game after that. It was a domino effect, Carter’s messed–up pitches in the second inning.

On the other hand, Beckett had dismantled batter after batter with frightening calm. His movements were smooth, almost like he had been pitching all season, like he wasn’t exerting effort at all.

Strike after another, but the longer Beckett threw pitches, the more he rolled his left shoulder.

The crowd was mad crazy; even the Mariners fans couldn’t fully hide their awe at Beckett’s performance.

In the Mariner’s dugout, dark clouds were looming over Carter’s head. He doesn’t like losing, and they are about to lose this

game.

At one point, after striking out another batter, Beckett smirked–barely there, gone almost as soon as it appeared. That wasn’t for the crowd, but for Carter.

He was challenging Carter, showing him who was a much better player when it came to controlling their emotions. And it

wasn’t Carter.

I shifted in my seat between pitches as Beckett rolled his left shoulder time after time. His jaw tightened briefly before smoothing back into composure.

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Chapter 67

He can fool the people around him, but I knew something was wrong.

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The game continued as the Reapers swept the Mariners off the floor. The unraveling didn’t happen all at once.

“Ohh, Andi, you’re on screen!” Siobhan gasped, and true enough, when I looked up, my stunned face was on full display.

Instinctively, my cheeks warm up, and I say a prayer for the ground to swallow me whole. I shrank back in my seat, suddenly aware that everyone was looking at me. Too aware that Carter’s gaze swept the stands again–and this time, landed on me.

Our eyes met. His expression shifted to something darker. Accusing me of trespassing on his turf.

The air cackle between us, like a chaos waiting to happen. I couldn’t stand the way he’s looking at me like a hawk, not because his presence affected me, but because I feared people would give meaning to the intense gaze he’s pinning on me.

It was filled with longing… questions. Look away, dumbass. Don’t draw attention to us. Your girlfriend is here, dammit!

He doesn’t, so I decided to leave instead. My hands were shaking when I stood.

“I need air,” I muttered to Siobhan, already moving.

I can still feel his eyes on me as I went to the concourse, and the wild beating of my heart told me that that longing gaze wouldn’t stay in the field. He wouldn’t stay in the distance. I have to avoid Carter before he gets my face plastered on those gossip sites again.

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