Page 7 of The Exit Strategy

“Katie, your new best friend.”

“No.”

She ignores me. “I showed your TikTok to Mae. The welcoming committee will be by with their own basket, but after what you’ve been through, a bunch of cinnamon rolls just isn’t going to cut it.” She bends down and lifts a heavy-looking box. “I was kicked off the welcome committee for this exact reason, but sometimes, a woman just has to handle things herself. Am I right?”

Glass clinks inside when she drops the box on the table with a thud.

“Now,” she says with a grin. “I don’t know your preference yet, so I brought a bouquet. Bourbon, gin, vodka, red wine, white wine, and my favorite, Fireball. I’ll let you get settled. But don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow with the mixers, and we’ll have our first official ladies’ night.”

This strange little woman wraps her arms around me and squeezes the fuck out of my ribs, then she trots off on espadrilles that make my toes ache and shuts the front door behind her.

I’m not sure what I expected upon arriving here. Maybe screaming or crying. Maybe a confrontation, or at the very least an explanation from Cole.

Instead, I got a “nice to see ya, pal,” an aggressively awkward attempt at a bro-hug, and a new best friend literally one second after declaring myself a no-friend zone.

My phone buzzes in my hand, so I flop down onto the tiny two-person sofa, then groan when I see the group chat.

Juniper & Her Berries:

Fen has always had an affinity for group chat names. This one has been alive since I was fourteen.

Fen: Proof of arrival.

Fen: Picture sent.

Oh, God. He captured Cole’s awkward attempt at a hug. Cole looks broken, but I look like I always do—pissed off and planning someone’s demise. It’s something I’ve been working on. Today, I obviously failed.

Hudson: Awkward, but she didn’t gut him, so it’s progress.

Jesus. Maybe Cole and I haven’t been as stealthy in our friendship breakup as I thought.

Nolan: Junie. Check in.

Cole doesn’t respond. He never does. Not since he left.

Begrudgingly, I reply.

Junie: Alive. Arrived. Almost got taken out by a Jaws-wielding golf cart and an aggressive new “bestie,” but alive.

Nolan: And Cole?

I drop my phone face down onto the cushion next to me. I’m not answering that.

Through the front window, his porch light glows, steady and golden.

Where the lights are always on.

I don’t know if that’s a promise or a warning, but I guess I’m about to find out.

2

THE 3 A.M. RULE

COLE

Nothing good comesfrom a 3 a.m. phone call.

It was true in college, and it’s even more true now.