Maid For Beckett Catching The Baseball Legend’s Heart novel Chapter 93

Chapter 93

Chapter 93

-Andi-

It’s peculiar, waking up to the quiet morning hum in our new place. There’s no sound of cars and motorcycles passing by. No dust from the street and the construction site, and I didn’t hear Caleb’s snoring, and there was no shaking of our bunk bed every time he moved.

I blinked at the ceiling. It was spotless gray, not a hint of water leaks when it rains. Then, there’s the ghost of Beckett’s touch that made my skin sing.

He wasn’t here. I almost begged him to stay, but he drove home after another movie. His hands weren’t on me anymore, but my body could still feel him. Every place he’d touched still hummed–my lips, my skin, my pussy… my legs tightened as memories from last night flooded my head. There was a dull ache in my center, the kind that came from a powerful orgasm, and from wanting something forbidden, from almost having it and stopping just short of the edge.

I groaned and rolled onto my side, burying my face into the pillow.

I shouldn’t get used to his touch or having him around. This relationship was still fake; not one single touch can change that. I rolled onto my back and pulled in a huge breath.

Today was not the day for this.

I have an important mission today, one that requires all the courage I could muster and every bit of my strength.

I showered, dressed, and moved through the morning on autopilot. By the time I got into the car, my chest felt tight, like something heavy had been lodged there overnight.

You need to do this, Andi, I thought as I gripped the steering wheel tightly. The scent of leather was still strong inside, but it didn’t overpower the fear permeating my mind.

Driving in my own car with the county jail as my destination in mind was something that had never crossed my mind. Even just a simple drive to the county jail was odd. The moment I crossed the city border, I felt a tension in my shoulder that grew tighter with each mile I covered. My hands looses color as I gripped the steering wheel, and my stomach twisted as the wheels rolled.

I tried to fight it, but the incessant traumas of my past kept crawling forward. Mom’s cries, his knuckles pounding on Mom and then on me, the blood on our floor, and its taste in my mouth… all of it was the horrors of our past.

I had no plans of ever visiting him. This was the last thing I would do.

I slowed the car as I exited the highway, and the proud building of stone, concrete, and metal stood at the end of the rough road. It was rather a box with a fifteen–foot–high, wrapped–around concrete fence. No windows to invite light. Just thick walls, cameras, and razor wire coiled along the top like a warning. The parking lot was half full, the air thick, and even breathing was a challenge.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts as I parked the car. Then I went through the scanner and guards‘ eyes that were full of judgment and doubt.

Inside, everything smelled like disinfectant and old metal.

A guard behind a thick glass window slid a chipboard toward me. I filled out forms with shaking hands–name, ID number, relationship to inmate. I emptied my pockets, passed through a metal detector, and let another guard stamp my wrist like I was entering a place I might not be allowed to leave.

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Chapter 93

# 18 Yountverk

They made me sit in the waiting room. The plastic chair I’m sitting on was bolted to the floor and is cold as ice: A football game was played on the television mounted high on the wall, and the sound volume was set to zero. I sat with five people wearing the same visitor tag.

When my name was finally called, my heart slammed so hard I thought I might be sick, then I was suddenly glued to the freezing chair. I can’t feel my muscles, not one of them.

The guard called my name again, his lips starting to curl into a sneer. I slammed a fist onto my knee and forced the words out of my mouth.

His sneer turned to a glower as I stood up. He didn’t say another word as he led me to a visitation room. There was no one inside, and the guard didn’t even give me a second to wallow in my anxiety before he started speaking.

“Your father’s currently unavailable for visits,” he glanced down at his clipboard.

I don’t know whether I should be disappointed or relieved. “Unavailable?” My breath caught. “What does that mean?” Panic starts to rise in my tone

The guard’s permanent frown deepened. “He’s in isolation. Influenza virus. He’s been confined for about a week now.”

Relief and guilt flooded my chest, making me weak in the knees.

He’s sick. He’s in isolation, and here I am, doubting if he was still in jail.

“So… he hasn’t been released?” I asked quietly.

Puzzled, the guard shook his head with a scowl. “Released?”

“Uhm… yeah. We thought we saw him in the city yesterday.” I cleared my throat tightly.

“That’s impossible.” he tucked the clipboard to his side. “You can make another request if you still want to see him in isolation. But we will not be held responsible if you catch the virus.”

My throat was parched like the desert. I walked out of the jail lighter and heavier all at once. Relieved that my mother hadn’t imagined him at the shopping mart.

I can tell her that the monster is still in its cage and won’t hurt us anymore.

The rest of the day blurred into motion.

I stopped by Siobhan’s office, and she personally guided me through my new job at her office. Filing, organizing, answering emails. I welcomed the mindless tasks as they kept my thoughts from spiraling.

By late afternoon, I drove up to the estate to help train the new house help. Siobhan, whom Beckett had hired Rosita. She was a widow in her fifties, soft–spoken, with tired eyes and hands rough from years of work. Three kids. She reminded me of Mom. Cheerful, honest, and capable of cooking and cleaning for Beckett. I’m sure Beckett won’t give her a hard time as he did with me.

Beckett was still in practice when I left the estate, but he promised to drop by for dinner. I went home with the hope that Mom had overcome her anxiety, but she still hasn’t come out of her room. The plate of food I left in front of her bedroom door was empty. I hope she ate it and not threw it in the trash

At this state, I need to be the mom for Caleb again.

The sun was dipping low, painting the kitchen in amber light as I made dinner. That’s when I felt eyes watching me. I looked

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10:55 am

Chapter 93

around the house, even called Mom’s name, but no answer came

I tried to ignore it, but the hairs on the back of my neck would say otherwise. That unmistakable prickle stayed with me until the lights outside were the only source of illumination I had.

I glanced toward the small kitchen window facing the back of the house. The yard beyond it was empty. This was a gated subdivision No one was supposed to be there yet. I can still feel watchful eyes pinned on me.

I shook it off and kept cooking.

But the feeling didn’t go away. So I wiped my hands on a towel and stepped outside with my heart lodged in my throat. I scanned the yard, the fence, even the neighboring houses, and found nothing. No movement. No sound.

I told myself I was being paranoid and went back inside, jumping to my feet when the doorbell rang.

When I opened the door. Beckett stood there–tall. familiar, solid. Relief rushed through me so fast it almost knocked me off my feet

“Hey,” he said softly.

Before I could answer, something over his shoulder caught my attention. The street was bathed in soft light, but I would recognize that figure anywhere, even if I lost my sight

Across the street, under the dim glow of a streetlamp, a guy with the same build as my father stood there. He’s wearing a dark jacket and a baseball cap; a small amber glow lit up the tips of his cigarette.

I tried to convince myself it wasn’t him, but I knew that silhouette by fear. The slope of the shoulders. The way his head tilted slightly, like he was always planning where to hurt us next.

It’s really him.

I sucked in a sharp breath as Beckett followed my stare. The shadow didn’t move. I just watched. And I knew–deep in my bones–that prison walls had never really been enough to keep him away from us.

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