Page 188 of The Exit Strategy

He’s sitting at a long folding table in my garage with a magnifier and a set of tweezers.

“Nana Mae. It’s amazing what she can get done when she sets her mind to it.”

I cross the garage to peer over his shoulder. It’s taken him two days to build some bookcases, a table that wobbles, and two chairs from scrap materials he’s collected from some of my other projects. They’re…functional.

“I think you missed your calling.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, then sucks on his thumb while dropping the hot glue gun to the table. “Pass. I’m only doing this for you.” He looks toward the ceiling. “And her. This is a hell of a lot easier when it comes out of a box, has instructions, and snaps into place.”

“Thank you.” I make a guttural sound somewhere between a laugh and something I mean with my whole heart.

Hudson nods. “Fen should be back soon with the 3D printer. Once it’s set up and calibrated, it’ll be a hell of a lot easier than this bullshit.”

Nolan stands in the opposite corner, staring at my original blueprints that I’ve kept hidden for years. It was surprisingly easier to share them than I thought it would be.

“You really know her,” Nolan says without lifting his gaze. “I don’t see what you’d need to change here.”

I stare down at the old blueprints. “These were a monument to someone I thought I could never have. These,” I hold up the start of my improved design, “are what happen when our lives converge.” I spread them out over the top of the sawhorses, and Nolan lets out a low whistle that even draws Hudson closer.

“This,” Hudson tilts his head so he’s almost upside down. He has no idea what he’s looking at.

I take pity on him and walk him through the first stages of the new design.

“This used to be her reading nook. I moved that upstairs. It’s smaller, but cozier. Now this space is an office for us to share. The light will filter in from the north and the south depending on the time of day.”

Hudson’s eyes glaze over as I continue, but I don’t stop until I’ve explained every change I plan to make and why—each one hinges on who Junie is now—and who she can be in the future.

Fenway walks in and gets to work with Hudson creating furniture for every room while I attack the new design with my charcoal and vellum.

At 1 a.m., Nana Mae kicks us all out.

“You’re going to be no use to her if you’re half out of your mind delirious. Get some sleep. We’ll get back at it first thing.”

Fenway walks her home while I carefully protect my new design.

Hudson and Nolan grab the leftover food and carry it back to the house.

But I linger a little longer in the driveway.

Junie’s apartment is mostly dark. It feels ominous. Especially since the only communications we get are two-word check-ins over text.I’m fine. I’m good. Don’t worry.

Nolan said she still needs time, so I’m doing my best.

As I round the corner to enter the back door, a small speck of light catches my eye, and I instantly look up at her bedroom window. There’s a low, warm, steady glow I hadn’t noticed before.

The kind that only comes from a nightlight.

The kind a kid keeps on so the darkness doesn’t win. This isn’t a signal we’ve used. It’s not a code we’ve agreed on.It’s just a small light that has decided to shine tonight when it never has before.

I try not to interpret what it could mean.

I’m not owed anything.

But I can’t stop the hope that brightens the darkness in my chest.

It has to mean…something.

And when she’s ready, she’ll see that I’m trying.