Page 96 of The Escape Plan

And, like, not a pretty, dainty cry. This is floodgates opening.

“I never cry,” I tell Beckett, furiously swiping away the tears. “Not even when I have terrible PMS.”

“It’s okay to cry,” he replies, gently placing his thumbs under my eyes to swipe away my mascara stains. He smiles. “Even when you’re PMSing.”

“I’m kind of a more wanting to burn the world down PMSer,” I confess.

Beckett smiles at me like I’m the center of the entire universe. “Why doesn’t that surprise me for a second?”

“Because you know me,” I say with a snort-hiccup-cry-laugh, and he draws me close.

He doesn’t ask me whether I’m okay, or what’s wrong, like he can somehow sense what I need in this moment—not to talk, to just feel what I’m feeling. He lets me snuggle into his chest and cover him in snot and tears and mascara for the rest of the rotation of the wheel.

I feel a mixture of mortification and absolutely not caring what people think when we exit the ride, me with red eyes and black tracks all down my face, him holding Ernie. Which earns us a very strange look from the ride operator.

“Everything okay there, Miss?” he asks me, frowning at Beckett.

No.

I sniffle. “Yes.”

The guy leans forward, dropping his voice. “You need me to call someone for you?”

“Huh?” I stare at him blankly. “Who? And why?”

Beckett, beside me, balks.

“Keels,” he says gently. “I think this guy thinksI’mthe reason you’re crying.”

“But youarethe rea… oh my gosh no, he didn’t make me cry by being mean to me or something!” I exclaim as the penny finally drops. “I’m crying because tonight is our last date, not because he’s a man-jerk.”

“Oh!” The ride operator looks beyond relieved. “Good. Good.”

“But thank you for being so concerned and willing to help a woman out if she needs it.” Beckett shakes the guy’s hand, then winks at him. “Luckily, in this case, Keeley here is a bit of a… how do you say it…riot grrrlwho could probably take me in a fight.”

“Hey!” I swat Becks’s arm, laughing in spite of myself.

“Ah, I see,” the guy says, looking bemused as Beckett waggles his eyebrows at me, eyes glinting.

I know what he’s doing.

He’s trying to make me smile. Make me laugh. Balm my tears with stupid humor and inside jokes.

It’s working, somewhat.

I slip my hand into his as we walk away. “Shall we get another fair snack?” My tone is forced in its brightness.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks gently in response.

In such a short time, he knows me so well. “I do. Do you?”

That lopsided dimpled grin moves slowly over his face. “I do. Frankly, I’ve had enough of sharing you with other people, and I’m thinking it’s high time for the fire escape.”

Last time for the fire escape,I correct mentally.

Tears prick my eyes for the second time tonight. I’m a mess. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

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