Page 86 of The Exit Strategy

I don’t know why it catches me off guard every time I see him. He’s my brother, for crying out loud. But I’ve only seen him in person twice in the last two years, which is not enough, even if neither of us has said so.

He looks so much like our father—a man I only think of in nightmares now, but Nolan remembers him all too well and has done everything possible to be better than the sperm donor who gave us life.

“Hey, Junie.” There’s a comfort in his tone that can only come from a sibling who’s been through hell and back with you.

I step away from my hiding spot and fall into his embrace. He holds on longer than he would if things were fine.

“You look terrible,” I mumble into his shoulder.

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

“Your flattery skills need work.”

“I call it like it is.” He pulls back to scan me. Not the way Fen does with the excitement of seeing an old friend, but a quieter, more reserved way.

His shoulders drop, but the concern is etched in his expression like a brand. “Where is he?”

Guilt slams into me. It makes no sense. I haven’t done anything wrong. But I guess that’s what happens when you hide being in love with your brother’s best friend your entire life.

“Clubhouse.” I nod toward the welcome parade. “Marley filed a formal complaint about the festival parking that required in-person arbitration.”

A small smirk tilts my brother’s lips upward.

“Stanley was the witness.”

“God help everyone.” He chuckles.

Fen pushes Nolan out of the way and opens his arms. “Spite-Berry.”

“Don’t,” I say. But it’s too late. Fen already has his arms around me, lifting me into the air and spinning us in a circle.

This has been our greeting for over a decade. I warn him off, and he hugs me anyway while I pretend to be annoyed but am quietly grateful for the affection he gives so freely.

It’s a better system than the one Hudson and I have. We communicate best with grunts and eye rolls.

“Come on,” Nolan says. “Show me your apartment so we can talk.”

Fenway sets me back on my feet. “I’ll go grab Cole.”

Emotion flickers in my brother’s eye, but he nods, then waits for me to lead the way.

“How is it?” he asks on the stairs. “Being here. With Cole?”

“Fine.” Apparently around my brother, I revert to the sulky teenager he had to bribe to leave the house on the weekends.

I open the door and wait for Nolan to enter before shutting it.

We should’ve stayed outside where there’s more air—and busybodies.

He drops heavily onto my tiny sofa. “You know, Cole used to tell you that fine wasn’t a descriptor for your feelings.”

He’s wearing a curious expression on his face. I don’t like it at all.

“How do you know that?”

His sigh seems to weigh a thousand pounds. “I’m your big brother. And seeing you here now, I know your feelings for Cole aren’t as cut-and-dry as you’ve made them out to be.”

My heart is racing too fast. How the fuck can he tell that by seeing me for five freaking minutes?