Chapter 17 - Parker #2
The silent house slowly seeped in, and I popped an eye open, scanning my surroundings.
The kitchen light was on, but I wasn’t sure if Beckham was here.
Granted, he would’ve left it on for me even if he’d left.
I tugged my phone out of my purse to check for any texts, but only saw a few from the girls in our group chat saying they had a fun day, and that we should do it again sometime soon.
Despite it having felt good to be off my phone all day, curiosity won out, and I found myself with the Instagram app opened.
The icon in the corner was maxed out with likes, comments, follows—all of it.
It was no secret that other influencers had taken to coming up with theories about my silence online, pushing new people to my account to see if they could crack some mystery.
As if it was illegal for me to live my life and not broadcast it online.
When I’d first decided leaving social media was the best course of action, I’d posted a quick story about taking a break. Of course, people were nosy, and everyone wanted to know why. Now, every accusation was being thrown around—the biggest being that I was either knocked up or in prison.
Their imaginations ran wild, that was for sure.
Deciding to ignore all of those, I tapped into my messages and found countless requests from new people.
I scrolled and scrolled, my mind numb to all the questions and speculations.
My thumb ceased its movement as I stopped on one from an account with no profile picture.
They didn’t ask where I was, or whether I was alive, or throw assumptions at me.
The message began politely. That fact had me clicking into it.
And instantly regretting it.
Hi, Parker. I hope you’re doing well. You’ve been quiet online for so long, and as a concerned Good Samaritan, I’d like to know your address so I can order a welfare check. No drop in from a stranger. Strictly professionals. This would ease my worries a lot. Thanks.
I stared, unblinking, at my phone for what felt like minutes before blocking the account and deleting the message.
Somehow, finding a complete stranger asking where exactly I lived seemed far-fetched.
People were nosy and frequently overstepped, but going as far as to ask for something so private?
With the profile looking brand new, I could only guess whoever messaged me was someone who’d known me before.
My heart stopped at the thought of Daniel trying to find out where I was. But he’d wanted nothing to do with this baby, so the possibility was unlikely. Right?
I shoved off the door and grabbed my bags after pocketing the phone, beelining for my temporary room. Whoever it was, Daniel or not, they weren’t getting that piece of me. Besides, even if it was someone I knew, I wouldn’t give up Beckham’s address with the possibility of it being exposed online.
Halfway down the hall, Beckham’s bedroom door opened and dim light spilled into the hall. I nearly tripped as I stopped, my palm slamming against my chest in a poor attempt to calm myself.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I panted.
But then I was breathless for a whole other reason as Beckham stepped out of his room wearing only a towel. His chest was glistening, water droplets coasting over suntanned skin. Dew stuck to his mustache, thick strands of wet hair hung in his forehead, and his eyes devoured me.
“Sorry. I was just coming out here to grab a clean shirt,” Beckham explained, gaze roaming over my body like he was checking to make sure I was still whole. “Did you have a good time with the girls?”
I nodded, gulping. “Yep.”
A crease formed between his perfect brows before he cataloged my hand still flat against my chest. “You okay?”
I nodded again, more frantically this time, and attempted to move past him. But his double-wide was outdated, so the hall was narrow, and all I succeeded in doing was wafting his scent full of mischief and temptation toward me. I paused, shoulder to his chest, to look up at him.
How in the fuck had he gotten so much hotter over the years?
“I’m just going to bed, so…”
“It’s five p.m.,” he stated.
My mouth popped open before I set a hand on my stomach and clarified, “The baby and shopping has me exhausted.”
“You want to take a bath?”
My mouth went dry as the first thought that hit me was getting in it with him.
“No,” I blurted.
He looked taken aback by my abrupt response.
“I don’t want to fall asleep in the bath,” I added quickly.
Beck’s tongue ran over his bottom lip before his eyelids grew heavy and he leaned in. His breath warmed my shoulder, sending goosebumps down my spine. “I could keep you awake.”
My knees nearly buckled.
Pregnancy hormones had me nearly jumping at the proposition, and I swore they were making me crazy.
“Beck…” His name was a whispered plea on my lips.
His nose grazed my cheekbone, his eyes hooded. “Yes, Park?”
I couldn’t make my mouth form the words to tell him this was dangerous. We were playing a risky game of revisiting the past when our futures weren’t built to clash.
Almost like he could sense it on me, he stepped back, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. He crossed his massive arms. His towel was slung so low, I nearly sent up a prayer hoping it’d fall just an inch to give me a little something more to think about later.
His penetrating stare bore into me like I was something to be studied and he’d forgotten how to read. I wanted him. He could tell I wanted him. But this was more than him and me.
At the end of the day, I wasn’t sure I could put the burden of my baby on him. To ask him to raise some other man’s child? It’d be selfish.
I had my time to do what I wanted. Now, I had to be an adult.
I only hated that it meant I wouldn’t get to follow my heart. But I loved my baby enough that I’d sacrifice everything if it meant giving him a stable, happy life.
I broke our eye contact and made it to my room by sheer will alone.