Page 99 of The Escape Plan

“But I’ve got you, here in Serendipity Springs. And whatIwant is to try to make this thing between us into something more. Something that goes beyond the summer.”

These are words I simultaneously ache to hear and ache because I hear them.

Because it’s not enough.I’mnot enough to make a person change their entire life plans.

History has shown me that. And even though this summer has taught me not to focus on the ending, I know the ending is still inevitable.

If Beckett stayed here and we stayed together, I’d live in fear. That dark ugly root in me would twist as it reminded me, over and over, that I was the wrong choice, and one day he’d realize that, and he’d leave.

That’s why it had to be just for the summer. Temporary. Neatly in its own little box.

Because, that way, we can never break each other’s hearts, like Noeleen and Douglas. Like my dad broke my mom’s. Like my mom shattered mine.

“It has to be this way,” I say softly, and the ugly words stick in my throat uncomfortably even after I speak them aloud. Festering there, like a chokehold. “I’m moving to Boston for my job, and you’re going home to Ireland.”

He nods, and in the darkness, his hand finds mine. He squeezes.

“I love you,” he says.

My heart flips over. It’s both too soon and too late for these words, and I don’t want this to go any deeper between us than it already has when I know that it has to end here and now, but I can’t hold back the words as I say, “I love you, too.”

That much will never change.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling me towards him. And then, he gathers me into his arms and holds me tight.

Like he’s never going to let go.

But I know he is, because I’ve told him this is what we have to do.

Because he’s Beckett.

I lean into his embrace, silent tears streaming down my face as I let him hold me, one last time.

Chapter Forty

Beckett

“Okay Beckett,I’ve got an important question for you,” Callan says, his dead serious expression over my laptop screen, where I’ve got FaceTime open.

“Fire away,” I say, assuming he’s going to ask about my flight details so he can pick me up from the airport tomorrow.

Tomorrow. As in, I’m supposed to get on a flight tonight.

It came so fast.

Way too fast.

“When you get back on Irish soil, will you be getting yerself a spice bag or a fry first?”

Eoin rolls his eyes spectacularly at Callan, like he’s been mortally offended. “Forget spice bags, you dose, he’s clearly going for a Supermac’s.”

“I’d get a wee gravy chip from Grainne’s, so I would.” Aoife licks her lips.

“Wise up, all of you,” Niamh says, hand on her chest like she’s clutching imaginary pearls. “He’ll be wanting a fish supper.”

“Spice bag,” Callan insists staunchly.

They all stop bickering long enough to swivel their heads to peer at me like an expectant line of meerkats.

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