Page 76 of The Escape Plan

“Me?” My voice is high-pitched and squeaky, like a mouse.

“You,” he confirms. His voice, in comparison, is deep and even and loaded with conviction. So much so that the single one-syllable word brings goosebumps to the surface of my skin, all over my arms and legs.

Because under Becks’s sunny, carefree surface, he’s a complex person who feels deeply. Who loves deeply and puts the people around him before himself. I think, in the process, he’s neglected himself, emotionally—a fact that hurts my heart.

Yet somehow, I’ve been able to play a role in changing that for him. And that means the world to me.

He looks at me for a long, loaded moment, and before I can reply—before I can even attempt to express what I’m feeling—his eyes move away and focus on my goosebumps. “I’d better get you home, you’re freezing,” he says quietly.

The physical reaction happening within my body right now isn’t from the cold, but he’s already throwing the truck in reverse.

The highway is slow-going, with cars lined up and moving slowly. The rain is relentless, with pelting sheets of water hopping off both the vehicle and the road ahead, but Beckett’s relaxed. He leans forward intermittently to wipe the fog from the inside of the windshield while claiming that he’s “used to driving in these conditions.”

I don’t mind the slow drive, either. I want to savor every possible moment of this date. This night.

“I’m sorry our date got cut short,” he says when we finally pull into the parking garage next to The Serendipity. He looks more than a little disappointed as he adds, “I don’t think tonight is going to be a good night for a fire escape chat, either.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I say—I’d been hoping we could meet up out there later, but this rain is relentless. “Thank you for taking me for ice cream. I had a great time, despite the weather.” My hand hovers by my seatbelt, but I don’t unbuckle it yet. Instead I bite my lip, then say, “And thank you for telling me that stuff earlier. About your grief. I’m glad you’re letting yourself feel again. I… really care about you, Becks.”

He turns his hazel green eyes on me. But unlike earlier—when his gaze was hot and electric and loaded with desire before we got near-drowned in the rain—his eyes are sparkling with a totally different emotion. Something I feel tangibly in my chest.

“From the second you crashed into my life in the elevator, Keeley Roberts, I started feeling things that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Maybe ever. And for that, I will always be thankful to you.”

We look at each other for a moment, and a spark of hope jumps in me as his breathing shallows. But then, his eyes move over my soaked hair and clothes almost regretfully before he says, “I want to get you inside and warm. Are you ready to make a run for it?”

I can’t deny the disappointment that wells in my chest, but I know it’s unfair—I can’t fault the guy for being a gentleman, for putting my needs first. Like he does with all the people he cares about.

“Let’s do it,” I agree. Although I think my need to kiss him is burning much stronger and brighter than my desire to get warm and dry.

We leave his jacket, my sweatshirt, and the box of Gramps’s stuff Ezra gave us in the backseat, and we make a break for it. As we run through the pouring rain together, his hand reaches for mine.

We’re both soaked to the skin as we run, hand in hand.

Me squealing, him laughing.

We bolt up the front steps to the building and stop at the front door. It’s locked, and he looks back at me and grins as he fumbles in his pockets for his keys.

He finally puts his key in the lock. Turns it.

“Come on. Come on, come on,” he mutters as he wiggles the key back and forth.

The door doesn’t budge.

“Hang on, I’ll get mine.” I wipe a hand over my face, then root through my shoulder bag and produce my set.

The rain pounds on my back and Beckett comes to stand behind me in an attempt to shield me with his body, but there’s no shielding anything from this crazy rain.

I slot my key in.

Turn it.

It doesn’t budge.

“I can’t believe this is happening!” I exclaim as I wrench the key again with no luck. I’m breathless and frazzled and soaking wet, my heart beating too fast at the sensation of Beckett’s warmth so close to me.

He wraps his fingers around my forearm, his very touch sending a bolt of heat coursing through me as he spins me around to face him.

Water is coursing in rivulets down his face, his t-shirt looks like it’s been glued on, and his hair is a soaked mess, but his eyes are blazing pure fire. A fire that lights me up from the inside on sight.

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