Page 78 of The Escape Plan

I reach out, turn the key again, and right away the door springs open.

“Well, would you look at that,” Beckett says. He’s still holding me.

“Would you look at that,” I echo as I clutch him tighter.

Chapter Thirty-One

Beckett

“We were meantto meet each other this summer.”

Keeley’s words stay with me through the night and into the next day.

Her words, and the kiss to end all kisses. The kiss that put all other kisses to shame, that shook me to my very core.

My entire world has been turned upside down, and I am not sure I’ll ever be able to flip it back.

Not that I’ll ever want to.

Kissing Keeley in the pouring rain last night broke a dam in me. A dam that’s contained everything in my life and has not let me feel for a long time now.

The rain may have derailed all of my original plans for a romantic first date—believe it not, ice cream while sitting on a truck tailgate wasn’t all I had planned for the night. After all, I’m a man who was raised by two amazing women—Mam and Gran—who taught me way better than that. But what transpired was better than anything I could have planned.

I wasn’t expecting or planning to kiss her. My goal for the night was simply to make her feel safe and desirable and cared for. I only intended to do something thoughtful and meaningful for her.

Our apartment building, on the other hand, clearly has a mind of its own and provided us the perfect setting for a perfect first kiss. It was the most passionate, romantic moment of my life. One that will be seared into my brain forever.

So much so that this morning, when I wake up to find that the rainstorm has passed and the sun is once again shining and bathing the world in gold, I find myself wishing for rain as I walk to Blue Notes.

Which is absurd. I mean, I live in Ireland. Rain is our only constant, and we love to complain about it. I never, ever thought I’d see the day when I would find myself longing for it.

“Are you lost?”

The voice startles me, and I look up from where I’m standing in the middle of the street outside Blue Notes like a halfwit to see Andrew, of all people, standing in front of me. He’s holding a brown paper bag with grease stains at the corners, and he’s frowning.

“Oh. No.” I keep my gaze steady and cool as I look at him. Not lost, just lost in thought.

“You sure?” Andrew presses, his brown eyes suspicious.

I want to tell him to go take a hike, but instead I say, “I’m grand, thank you.”

My words are polite, but my tone is anything but. I can’t help it. Seeing Andrew brings up this protective, almost primal instinct in me. I know he’s old news for Keeley now, but the fact is, he hurt her. Therefore, I kind of want to deck him in the face.

I’ve never punched someone before. Or even wanted to.

I’m a musician, for goodness sakes. My hands are exceedingly important.

But these are the kinds of feelings Keeley’s stirring up in me. Emotions I didn’t even know I had—ones that run so deep, so thick, so strong, that they make me want to do things that are totally out of character. And potentially unhinged.

Andrew must read at least some of this on my face, because he takes a step back, his eyes darting back and forth before landing uncertainly on me. “I know you don’t like me. And I get it, bro?—”

“Not your bro.”

Andrew scrubs a hand over his face. “I was a jerk, okay? There, I said it. Happy now?”

My cool tone becomes cold. “No.”

He sighs. Swallows. “Look. That day, when I saw you guys in the elevator, my behavior was not okay. I see that now, and I’m sorry.”

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