Page 76 of The Exit Strategy

I scoff. “Talk? Now you want to talk?”

“Junie.” He growls my name. A warning I don’t heed. “What happened?”

This, I realize, is who Cole is. Who he’ll always be.

He’s a fixer who can’t, or won’t, address the elephants sitting on our chests, but he’ll solve the world’s problems to make himself feel like he’s doing something.

“For fuck’s sake, Junie. Did Grace do something?”

I shake my head, then hold up my left hand. A small line of broken blood vessels around the platinum band showcases my pain better than words.

“I can’t wear this. I need it off. Now.”

“Junie.” This time, my name is a plea full of pain, sorrow, and tinged with regret.

It fuels the fire of my anger.

“Get it off me, Cole. This—thislie is too much. It’s just too much.”

He nods and leads me over to the sink, then reaches for a jar of coconut oil. Without taking his gaze off mine, he sticks his thick finger into the white creamy substance, and while staring into my soul, he massages the skin I’ve torn up in my quest to be rid of him.

“Jesus, Junie.” I glance down at the finger he’s caressing.

It shouldn’t be erotic. I shouldn’t feel it in my pussy. It shouldn’t break my heart that I do.

“What have I done?” His voice is somber.

“It—it hurts.” My voice cracks, and my sadness is reflected in his expression.

What the hell was I thinking, getting close to him again?

I knew when I showed up here that he had the power to wreck me, and without a shred of dignity, I once again handed him my heart on a silver fucking platter.

He pinches the skin around my ring finger with one hand while gently trying to ease the band over my knuckle.

“How the fuck did Nana Mae even get this on you?”

“Please,” I say, glancing down. I can’t give him more than that. He’s already taken too much.

He douses my greased-up finger in olive oil next. Then he moves on to butter, and finally Vaseline. I smell like a diner at 3 a.m., but we’re no closer to removing the ring.

“I think,” he grunts when he pulls hard on the metal, but his hand slips, and he smashes his knuckles into the cabinet. “I think we’ll have to get it cut off.”

I glare at the offending symbol of love, and a new waveof guilt hits my ribs when I study the pavé diamonds that wrap around the entirety of the band.

Cutting it off will ruin it forever.

It feels symbolic in a macabre sort of way. The destruction of the ring sits in parallel with the destruction of us because if I cut Cole out of my life, this time, there will be no coming back.

“I’m sorry, Junie. I really am.”

I’m numb as he sticks my hand under warm water and uses pomegranate soap to scrub my skin free of all the lubricants we’ve tried.

“I’ll let Nana Mae know and then search for a jeweler who can do it.” He pats my skin dry, then turns to pull down my mug, and continues making our coffee.

I just…can’t.

I move on wooden legs to my office. I don’t lift my head when he sets my mug on the table next to me. I don’t take my eyes off my computer screen when I hear him slowly climb the stairs.