Page 178 of The Exit Strategy

He leaves his light on—like hope.

As I climb into bed, I decide both things can be true, even if we end up at different destinations in the end.

“Wakey-wakey.”Katie’s slightly shrill voice startles me from a deep sleep, and I almost roll right out of bed.

“Sorry,” Nolan grumbles. “She said she’s your best friend and deserves to see for herself that you’re okay.” I don’t have to open my eyes to know he’s staring at her with suspicion. “I only let her in because Fen corroborated her BFF status.”

“Debatable,” I groan.

The sun has decided on happiness today, and I want to throw a trash bag over it to plunge us all back into darkness.

“Come on, spill.” Katie flops herself onto my bed, tucking her arms behind her head like this is a completely normal thing for a forty-year-old woman to do. “I can only hold off the Safe Haven Wellness Committee for so long. You gotta give me something, otherwise they’ll all end up on your doorstep again.”

Cracking one eye in Nolan’s direction, I almost laugh. He’s somewhere in the middle of tossing Katie out on her ass and letting her bamboozle me.

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “She won’t go away until she gets what she came here for.”

Katie’s purse clinks as she holds it above my prone body. “I brought mimosas.”

“Ah.” I don’t remember seeing Nolan ever look this uncomfortable. “I do have to go check on some…things.”

I nod and drag myself to a semi-sitting position.

“Nana Mae set the boys up at the clubhouse,” Katie says while dragging two collapsible champagne glasses from her bag. “Fenway and Hudson have an entire war room set up.”

“Why? How long are they staying?”

The panic must show on my face because Nolan offers a placating smile I hate.

“Indefinitely,” he says. “We all are.”

I wasn’t consulted on this. But I’m also probably too tired to fight it.

Freaking Boston boys.

“Fine,” I sigh. “Go do what you have to do.”

Nolan comes close, then kisses the side of my head so he can whisper, “I won’t be far. If you need a rescue, call me.”

Katie snorts. She’s practically on top of me, so there’s no way she missed Nolan’s words.

“We’ll be fine,” she says, handing me a mimosa she poured from a small hot-pink thermos.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he grumbles, but he leaves me alone with my annoying best friend.

I eye the mimosa, and then Katie. “Do you have a drinking problem I need to be aware of?”

“No.” She rolls her eyes. “Bea says I use alcohol as a social crutch because I don’t trust that I’m interesting enough on my own to hold anyone’s attention. I blame my ex, but we’re not here to talk about me.”

“Katie—”

When did I turn into someone who can’t recognize when someone else is hurting? This is definitely a character flaw to work on.

“No bullshit,” she says, and I’m not prepared when she levels me with the most serious expression I’ve ever seen on her.

Her bubbly concoction helps me swallow my nerves.

“There’s no testosterone here now, no family bonds forcing you to make peace. It’s just you.” She furrows her brow. “And me.”