Page 104 of The Escape Plan

“A letter from back when I was still a boy, in so many ways.” Gramps sets the envelope on the table. It’s addressed to him, his name written in a loopy, swirly script. He looks at it for a beat, then turns to me. “Do you have a boy in your life?”

“Um,” I say. Swallow a little painfully.

“A boy you love?” Gramps prompts.

“Yes.” The word tumbles out of me before I can stop it. Ezra’s eyes widen almost comically at my response.

Gramps looks at me for a long, long moment. His eyes are lucid again, but his brow is deeply furrowed.

And then, he surprises me by sliding the letter towards me. “This is for you, my sweet girl.”

My sweet girl.

He used to call me that all the time when I was growing up. I haven’t heard the endearment in ages, and it makes me smile as Gramps presses the letter into my hand. Unsure what else to do—and more than a little curious—I tuck it into my purse.

At that moment, the magpies in the garden fly off.

Gramps watches them go. “I was a very stubborn, headstrong boy back in my day,” he continues, his tone a little remorseful. He smiles down at the envelope. “Always thought I knew everything about the world when I knew nothing at all. I hope your boy isn’t too stubborn and proud to keep him from following his heart.”

“No, Beckett is…”

Incredible.

“Are you the same, Ben?” Gramps turns his eyes to my brother. “Stubborn?”

“I’m Ezra, Gramps,” my brother says, gently as could be. “Ben’s my dad, your son.”

“Ah. Yes.” Gramps nods, his eyes a little dull again. “Of course.”

“But in answer to your question… yes, I can be way too stubborn sometimes.” He grins at me. “Keeley here’s the same. It must run in the family.”

We spend the rest of the visit chatting on lighter topics, drinking coffee, and even playing a round of Gin Rummy.

When Gramps begins to tire, we make our leave. And as we say our goodbyes and give him hugs, Gramps says: “Remember, don’t let your circumstances dictate your heart, my sweet girl.”

The words hit me like an arrow to the heart. Bullseye.

Chapter Forty-Two

Keeley

My brother roundson me as we walk towards his SUV.

“You’re in love?” he demands.

“Shh,” I tell him, digging in my purse.

I finally pull out the letter and stare at it for a moment, taking in the foreign stamp that says “Eire.”

The Gaelic word for Ireland. Beckett taught me that this summer.

My stomach flips. The letter’s from Noeleen. It has to be.

I justknowit, in the very depths of me.

“What is it, Keels?” Ezra asks with a frown.

“I think it’s from Beckett’s grandmother.”

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