Page 17 of The Exit Strategy
It’s why I’m being forced to leave. She’s too young for me. She’s Nolan’s sister.
She doesn’t know what I’ve done.
And if my little Viper had any idea how Natalie has forced my hand… It wouldn’t be enough for Junie to know that I’d broken up with Natalie. She’d want a full annihilation of Natalie’s life. The chain reaction would ruin Junie’s.
The only thing I can do now is ensure that no one finds out how deeply that fuckup goes. Because if Junie finds out what I’ve done to protect her, I’ll lose her anyway.
“Cole?”
‘No’ is on the tip of my tongue, but that word, no, squeezes off my air supply. I’m drowning on dry land, so when she places her hand in mine, when it feels like the only right thing in my life, when she rests her head against my chest, I dance.
“Don’t ever leave me, Cole.” Her words are sleepy and wrap around my lungs like a noose. “You’re the only good part left.”
That was the final straw. The moment that changed me on a molecular level. The only option I had was to leave and give her the opportunity to live without the baggage I would have saddled her with.
Three weeks later, when Natalie hammered the final nail in my coffin, I left Boston behind for good.
Unfortunately, now I know that leaving didn’t stop the longing. It just gave it six years to grow roots. And now, forthe second time, I’ll have to find a way to leave her better than I found her.
But this time, she’ll take all the good I have left in me with her too.
I drag my hand down my face and head home.Friends. I’d offered her friendship even though we both felt it was a demotion.
Hudson appearsin the kitchen first, fully dressed in yesterday’s clothes, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder like he’s heading to court and not a regional airport with one terminal and a Cinnabon.
“She still asleep?” he asks, peering out my back door.
“I wouldn’t know.” I slide a mug of coffee toward him.
He takes it, then stares at me over the rim. Hudson has a built-in bullshit detector, the way that dogs detect fear. Silently. Accurately. With full intent to bite.
“Right.” He takes a long sip. “Take care of her, Cole. And I don’t mean fix her and send her on her way. I mean let her be a goddamn mess in your vicinity without trying to solve it.”
I don’t know what to do with that, so I nod.
Fen stumbles in next, wearing one of my shirts and basketball shorts that he can barely keep up and are decidedly not mine. He looks like a child playing dress-up.
“Morning.” He yawns wide enough to dislocate something. “I left a note under Spite-Berry’s door. I told her the welcome banner was Stanley’s doing and that he’s harmless.” He pauses. “Mostly.”
“That was…nice.”
He slaps my back hard enough to make my coffee slosh over the sides. “Take care of our girl.”
Our girl. The words sting in a way he doesn’t intend. But it’s the reminder I need that she was never just mine. We all belong to the same makeshift family that formed out of tragedy and stubbornness.
They load into their rideshare, and Fen waves as though he’s on a Mardi Gras float, while Hudson gives me the middle finger that carries the weight of a threat, a promise, and an IOU.
Then they’re gone. And it’s just me, The Haven, and the object of my infatuation—who is most likely upstairs plotting her revenge.
Junie arrives at 9:06.
Not on the hour. Not a quarter past. 9:06. Which tells me she’s making a point. Junie always has a point. She was late one minute for every year I’ve been gone, but not late enough to be considered unprofessional.
Unfortunately for her, I was trained on Junie’s spite years ago. This is classic Juniper Mercer—and I’ve fucking missed it.
She walks into the kitchen with wet hair that makes her dark blond strands appear brown and a to-go cup of coffee that still has steam rising from the top.
I don’t linger on how her jeans cling to her ass, the shirt that’s tailored to the perfect curves of her body, or how her wardrobe choice today feels like a test. One I refuse to comment on. But it’s herI dare you to mention my tardinessexpression that makes me feel alive.
