Page 84 of The Escape Plan

Down on the field, the red-shirted players cheer and slap each other on the back in an apparent show of congratulations. I can only assume that they’re all so excited because the game is over.

Finally.

As he claps, Cash leans towards me. “So, what did you think? You enjoy it?”

I give him the biggest smile my lying self can muster. “Yes.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Becks.”

“I enjoyed the first… hour or two?” I amend, my expression remorseful.

He laughs. “That’s fair. It’s a long game in the first place, never mind if you don’t know the rules.”

“To be honest, it’s notallthe game’s fault.”

Tonight is my spot at Lucky 13 Studios. I’ll be recording my song—Keeley’s song—for Ezra and Keeley, herself.

I’m both nervous and excited about it all. I haven’t performed any of my original music live in any capacity since Gran’s passing—thought I never again would. But here we are… plus I’m still riding the high of our incredible date on the fire escape the other night—and every night we’ve spent kissing and cuddling on the fire escape since—and I am insanely glad she wants to be by my side when I do this.

I can only hope she likes the song I wrote for her. I finished it this week, and I really poured my heart into it. Which was a cathartic experience I’m immensely grateful for.

Cash nudges my arm. “Excited to get home to Keeley?”

“Yup,” I respond, unabashed. “But I’m glad I came with you, for the experience. Thanks again.”

“Anytime, man.” We start making our way towards the exit. “So, what sports do you have in Ireland if baseball isn’t a thing?”

“Gaelic football, rugby, and hurling, mainly.”

“Hurling?” Cash cocks his head.

“It involves big sticks. Hard balls flying in the air.” I grin. “Helmets are necessary if you still want to be in possession of all of your teeth by the end of the game.”

This makes my new friend chuckle as he slaps me on the back jovially. “Ah, forget baseball, in that case—we have to take you to see ahockeygame. I’ll get us tickets for the Bruins. I think that’ll be way more up your alley. ”

“Sounds great,” I tell him. My only ice hockey knowledge is from watchingMighty Ducksas a child, but it’s enough to make me want to go to a game.

“Perfect. Their season starts in late October, but we could go to a preseason game in September.”

I screw my nose up. “Unfortunately, I’ll be gone by then.”

Cash looks as genuinely disappointed as I feel. “I keep forgetting that you’re leaving after the summer.”

Wish I could say the same.

It’s feeling all too real that I’m leaving soon, especially as, earlier today, I got an email from the school where I work with some information about policy changes for the upcoming term. Boring stuff I don’t even want to think about.

Work has seemed so far away this summer, and I’m happy to keep it that way until I’m back in Ireland and actually have to face it.

Which is a little ostrich-y, I’ll admit. But they’re known to be nice birds, right?

Bit dim. But nice.

“Sure am… but I’m not ready to leave yet,” I find myself saying.

The admission surprises me—I’m usually so good at keeping how I feel bottled up. I guess I’m still getting used to the dam Keeley’s cracked open in me, just spilling things when I least expect.

It’s funny—when I arrived in Serendipity Springs, my only focus was on finding out more about my Gran’s time here. I saw it as a way to feel closer to her, and I think I convinced myself I’d somehow feel differently about her passing if I knew more about her story—about exactly what brought her here and why she left.

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