Page 163 of The Exit Strategy

Natalie Moore…

Please call my office at your earliest convenience…

I skim the message because the blood rushing in my ears makes me dizzy. There hasn’t been enough time for my grievance to make this kind of noise. This came from…

Junie chose reparations—for me.

Her window remains dark.

She chose to fight for me knowing the wreckage Natalie could do to her life.

Junie set fire to the lies, accepting she’d be burned by the flames.

The one thing I always wanted to protect her from.

I scroll back up to Natalie’s texts.

What about Marcus?

If I go down, so does she…

Natalie’s been my secret, and I’ve been hers. We’ve been holding each other’s worst across a six-year ledger that benefited no one except her brother.

But he isn’t the only innocent here.

And he’s not the only collateral damage of a war ignited by his sister—but he was never my burden to carry.

Natalie’s going to fall, and with her destruction, Marcus will suffer. It doesn’t sit well with me. If Natalie had actually done any of the work herself, her brother’s future wouldn’t be in limbo now.

Her decisions have endangered her brother’s care.

But my decisions have cost me everything.

So now, I act.

Not because I’m forced to—this was always going to happen as soon as I won the award—but now I’m doing it with no promise of tomorrow, and it hardens me in a way she can’t prepare for.

My thumb hovers over Natalie’s name until a pop-up box appears.

Then I block her.

There’s a peacefulness that falls over me once it’s done. Like a million-pound weight has been removed from my neck…but the fight is just beginning.

Hudson pulls in at 7:15, and I’m still on my front porch, in my tux from last night. The empty plate of food that Nana Mae tried to shove down my throat sits off to the side.

He gets out of the BMW in a fresh suit, sans tie, with his jacket open, holding a cardboard tray with three coffees. He lifts them to me as he climbs Junie’s steps, places one cup on the floor in front of her door, then knocks.

Hudson is halfway down the stairs when her dooropens. I’m on my feet in an instant, anything for a glimpse of her.

All I get is an arm, but the expression on Hudson’s face as he stares at her tells me everything I wish I could fix—she’s hurting and shutting him out too.

My breathing turns shallow while he mutters words so low I can’t hear. I clutch the porch railing as he walks back to me. I fall to my ass on the stairs when he hands me my coffee.

Then he slumps onto the stair above me. “You’re my brother.”

“Hud—” I nearly crush the cardboard cup in my hands.

“You are my brother, Cole. I’ve known you since I was five years old. I’ve lied to our family for you. I’ve driven you to the airport in the middle of the night when you looked like everyone you loved had died. I covered for you because I knew youmusthave had a reason, and I’ve never once asked questions because I trusted you. That’s the trust you broke while I’ve been waiting silently in your corner. Yet you still hold on to the pain as though you’re the only one who can handle it.”