Page 187 of The Exit Strategy

“I’ve been designing a house for the memory I had of her. I have hallways wide enough for her to walk through while reading so she doesn’t run into the wall because she used to do that every day?—”

“She doesn’t do that anymore,” Nolan says.

“No, she doesn’t.” I run a hand through my hair. “Now she sits on her knees when she gets excited about a TV show. She waves wildly with both hands when she’s fired up about a theory or telling a story. She retreats when she feels threatened and she sighs when I hold her.”

I can tell by the blank stares that no one is following me.

“When I left Boston, my feelings for Junie had changed, and Natalie had recognized that long before I did. She weaponized it, collecting evidence while I had no idea wewere at war. And what she did with that knowledge changed the course of all our lives.”

Nolan tries to hand me a bottle of water, but I ignore it.

“Then Junie showed up here. She’s spent the last two months becoming a woman who dismantles sabotage because her mind was built for forensics the way some people were built for marathons. She just told a million people that she’s removing herself from social media and she doesn’t give a shit what they say about her. She’s not going to want a reading nook under the stairs. She’s going to want—” My mind is working faster than I can speak. “We’ll need an office big enough for two. Light that creates shadows and rainbows in equal measure.”

Behind me, Hudson clears his throat. “What are you asking us, Cole?”

I face him with manic energy making my limbs twitch. All four of them stare at me wearing the same expression—like a family who has finally staged an intervention that worked.

And in some ways, it did, because I’m asking for help.

Again.

“I need help building a new model quickly because I’ve already wasted too much time and I don’t know how long she’ll be gone. But she’s coming back. I know she is.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Nolan asks.

“Then I’ll go to her.”

“What scale?” Fen asks, rolling up his sleeves. They watched me learn to build these things for long enough they know the basics.

“One to fifty by the end of the week. The full footprint—as best we can do. The elevations, the interior partitions. I’ll do the drafting, and I know the land by heart.”

“Papa’s fishing hole.” Nana Mae’s smile is watery.

“Yeah,” I say. “As long as I don’t lose it because of how Tommy tied it to the loan. It feels…right.”

“That’s because it is,” she says, then excuses herself to the restroom.

“I can’t make any promises about the loan and the land, Cole.” Hudson has shed his anger. He wants happiness for our family as much as I do. “But I’ll do everything I can to put an end to this. All of it.”

I know he means it.

“We have to talk about that loan, Cole.” Nolan stands before me with his hands on his hips.

“We will. But first, please help me so I don’t lose your sister for good this time,” I plead.

“I’m extremely good at doll furniture,” Hudson says, rolling his shoulders back. “River made sure of it.” His sister’s his only weak spot.

“I have a contact in Hilton Head who has a 3D printer and owes me 6,000 favors,” Fen says. “I also get to choose the paint colors, that’s not negotiable.”

“Put us to work, Cole.” Nolan grins. “The apology has to come from you, but we can help with the gesture.”

He has no idea how much his words mean to me. None of them do. It’s like a helping hand after you’ve spent years digging out of a bottomless hole.

“Boys,” Nana Mae says, reentering the room with a handful of tissues. “The garage. Now. I’ll bring in the food, and I’ll call in the reinforcements.”

Lord only knows what that will entail, but if it gets Junie back, I’m all for it.

“Where the helldid you find those?” I ask Hudson.