Page 174 of The Exit Strategy

“Okay.”

I stand and begin to pace in front of my window that overlooks the driveway, and pause mid-step because freaking Cole is still on his damn porch. I jump behind the curtain and then continue to pace from the couch to the island and back again.

“There must be something I can do, right? Some way I can undo what I’ve done? Not completely. I still want Natalie to suffer—Spite-Berry is ingrained deep—but for Marcus? There must be safety measures and services for people who need help. Right? They won’t just…toss him out on the street?”

“Why do you feel so compelled to help a man you’ve never met?”

I scoff. “Did you switch specialties? I thought your focus was on women’s health, which is weird as fuck, but whatever. When did you become a shrink?”

“Answer the question, Juniper.”

Why? Because guilt is heavy. Because I’ve been on the shit end of a social media takedown? Because me helping Marcus would be pouring salt on Natalie’s wounds?

No. While I admit that last one is a tiny bit gratifying, that’s not why I’m focused on helping him.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” I finally say.

“It looks as though Natalie’s raising a lot of funds through her GoFundMe account.”

I cringe. “She is. But…the truth always comes out. When people learn the truth, they may not come through with the funding they’ve promised.”

“That’s true.” He catches my arm right as I’m about to pace back to the kitchen. “You’re sure this is what you want to do?”

“I am. I don’t have a lot of resources right now, but I want to at least try.”

“You know this is something I can help with, right? Even though I’ve been in Japan, I still have a large network through my med school colleagues. Social workers, case managers, disability advocates.”

“You’ll help?”

He nods.

“Thank you, Nolan. For…everything.”

He chuckles and pulls me into a hug. “I’m your brother—this is the kind of shit you never have to thank me for.”

I hug him tighter, not ready to let go.

“I’m going to make some calls, okay?” He rubs my back, and I release him. “It’ll take some time, but I’ll do what I can for Marcus.” He pulls a laptop from his bag and a phone from his pocket, then sets himself up at my coffee table.

While he works, I actively avoid the front windows, and instead take the longest, hottest shower of my life. By the time I emerge an hour later, Nolan has a baseball game onmy small TV, his feet up on the coffee table, and a beer that makes me wonder if Katie stopped by.

“Done?” I ask, squeezing in beside him.

“For now,” he says. “His actual care plan will likely take months to implement, but I called a friend at Mass General who worked in disability law before switching over to medicine. She called a colleague in New York.”

“Is that legal?”

“It is. After speaking with my friend, it’s likely that Natalie has guardianship of Marcus, which gives her the legal right to post whatever she wants. Whether it’s ethical is another question entirely. Regardless, my friend’s colleague in New York will dispatch a case worker to check in on things and offer assistance—that’s all we can do. But it’s much more than most people would do, considering your history with Natalie. And while I’m still not sure how I feel about it, I am proud of you.”

“Nolan.”

He shifts his weight to give me his full attention.

“You did all of…that…in an hour?”

“Junebug, that’s the least impressive thing I’ve done in an hour in a very long time. But no, I didn’t do it all in an hour. The reality is that this will take time. And due to privacy laws, we may never get an update. What I did in an hour was set things in motion. I’ve given them a course to follow. It will be up to Natalie and her ego as to how smoothly it will go.”

I laugh. A small one. The sound is wet and tired.