Page 66 of The Exit Strategy

The words hang in the salt air.

I open my mouth, but all the moisture has evaporated, and only two words escape, rough and as wounded as my soul. “Not yet.”

It’s the most honest thing I can say to her. Because for the first time, not yet doesn’t mean never. It means the wall is down and the silence is crumbling and I can see the confession on the horizon, even if I’m not brave enough to walk toward it tonight.

Nana Mae studies me, then nods. “Not yet is better than not ever.” She stands. “But don’t wait too long. That girl won’t stay forever. Not because she doesn’t want to, but because you haven’t given her a reason, and when push comes to shove, she’ll seek safety over silence.”

Nana Mae’s weathered hand pats my cheek, then she turns to join the others at the S&S meeting.

My phone has been buzzing in my pocket this entire time, but I’ve ignored it until now.

Fen & Tonic:

Nolan: I rescheduled my shifts. I’ll be there in two weeks.

Fen: Gangs getting together in Porchlight Cove.

Hudson: Counting breaths with all the sarcasm text messages allow.

I have two weeks to find a solution or get comfortable with the knowledge that all our lives are about to change.

Two weeks, and Junie. Because if Junie doesn’t find proof of my innocence, I’ll go to jail. And if I’m in jail for Devin’s crimes, I won’t be able to pay to shield Junie any longer.

Homes, land, and hearts all rest squarely on my shoulders.

And confessions, kisses, and blackmail have a way of derailing the best of intentions.

13

ACCOUNTA-FUCKING-BILITY

JUNIE

Monday morning,I’m halfway across the driveway when Cole emerges from his garage with a tool bag over one shoulder and his keys clutched between his teeth. It shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.

He stops short when he sees me. “Hardware store run,” he mumbles around the keys. “Stanley broke the golf cart charger. Again.”

“I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

Cole grunts and moves forward. “Come with me.”

When he realizes I’m not following him, he spins back around. “I need a second opinion on cabinet pulls.”

I blink. “Why would I have opinions on cabinet pulls?”

He returns my slow blink. “Because you have opinions on everything.”

Cole’s in a mood today. But he’s not wrong, so I climb into his truck without arguing, mostly because the hardware store is next door to Grounds for Celebration so I can probably finagle a free coffee out of this little excursion.

Which is good because Nana Mae’s been spiking my coffee with turmeric to “help with inflammation” every timeI turn around so I’m opting for anything with a lid these days.

The hardware store is exactly as I was expecting—creaky wooden floors, a cat lying on the register, and an entire aisle devoted to things I can’t identify. Cole walks in like a man in church.

He loves it here.

We’re three aisles in when I spot her.

Freaking Lola. She has a full face of makeup at eight forty in the morning, and I’m over here breathing into my palm to make sure I remembered to brush my teeth. She holds a paint swatch card as though she’s picking out a prom dress, and I shiver. Prom with her was probably a very elaborate affair.