Chapter 3 Olena
OLENA
Nat’s yellow Jetta pulls up to the curb right as I step out the front door of the apartment building. I duck into the passenger seat, chucking my climbing bag behind us with an overly dramatic flourish.
“What’s with you this morning?” Nat asks with raised eyebrows, rummaging in her purse. “You look pretty chipper for someone fresh off a tragic date.”
“Well, perhaps my fortunes have changed!” I narrow my eyes mysteriously, wiggling my fingers at Nat like I’m casting a spell.
“Yeah? Okay, then, spill,” she says, putting a hair elastic between her teeth and gathering her small black braids up into a ponytail, a few of the shorter ones escaping her grasp and falling back down in front of her eyes. She looks at me expectantly, her dark eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“Wyatt’s gotten me a job lead with his uncle. He just called and I’m meeting him on Thursday to see the property.” I smile nervously.
“Seriously? That’s excellent!” Nat breaks into a grin, doing a little happy dance in the driver’s seat; the girl loves a celebration. “See? I knew you could get your mojo back.”
“Well, so far nothing’s confirmed, but it sounds promising. So my mojo level is still TBD.”
“Tell me everything. How’d the phone call go?”
“Good. Actually, really good. Wyatt clearly did quite the job talking me up. His uncle was so kind. He said my work was beautiful.” I pull an awkward, embarrassed face.
Nat lets out a whoop and slaps my arm gently.
“Proud of me?” I ask, knowing the answer. I smirk to myself, cautiously letting the good feelings simmer in my gut. I won’t let myself worry about the specifics yet.
“Abso-fucking-lutely, Len!” She’s giddy and her enthusiasm is contagious.
I can’t help but grin. “Thanks.” I take a deep breath and blow it out, dropping my head back on the headrest and turning toward her. “Just tell me I’m brilliant and it’ll all be smooth sailing, please.”
Apparently, I need some reassurance that I can do this—a little push to help me kick the self-doubt monster’s ass.
I don’t know why I’m so hesitant to embrace this job.
I was plenty busy with my business in the big city, so getting back on the horse shouldn’t feel this intimidating.
I guess, on some level, I have always attributed any success I had to the talented people I worked with.
Now that I’m starting over from scratch here in small town Lennox Valley, all while knowing no one in my field, I’m feeling so… vulnerable.
“Girl, you’re gonna be fantastic at this job.
You’ll have all the beautiful, creative wisdom, the unique ideas, and the professional plans…
and you’re gonna blow this guy away with your charm and skill.
And, most importantly, you’ll be getting paid again!
Congrats. Seriously, I love this for you.
” She waggles her eyebrows at me, sporting another huge grin. Nat’s the best at hype.
I inhale another huge breath and let it out.
“Okay, yes, thank you. I can do this. I will do this.” I try to fill my mind with the kinds of thoughts I assume successful people think, telling myself it’ll be rewarding, interesting work.
That I have a handful of creative ideas I’ve been holding onto for just the right project and how maybe I’ll get to implement some of those hidden gems at the Faulkners’ property.
The place sounds pretty huge, so the possibilities could be vast.
“I do usually love the beginning of a brand new project,” I say to Nat.
“Yes! Exactly. The creative juices get flowing…”
“Yeah.”
I sigh. There’s something beautiful about starting from scratch with a landscape.
I know going to see the property on Thursday will ignite my designer brain in the best way.
Plus, being outdoors and getting that first look now—just as early signs of spring show up—will be beautiful.
An old Tudor revival home on a misty cliff-side overlooking the river has a certain dreamy appeal, any way you slice it.
I smile to myself, but it fades when I realize I will need a way to get there.
I turn to Nat, scrunching my nose. “Hey, uh… my car’s still in the shop and I can’t cover the repairs yet because I still haven’t gotten paid by that last deadbeat client—”
“Ugh, rude,” Nat interrupts in solidarity, shaking her head.
“I know.” I roll my eyes. “So, my lovely best friend,” I continue, placing my palms together in front of my chest, “would you be a beautiful soul and maybe consider lending me your car for the Thursday thing? It’s pretty far outside of town.”
Nat’s eyes widen—the visual equivalent of the word duh. “Oh, one hundred percent. Perks of working from home, right? Zero commute. So yeah, I don’t need my car. No such thing as a local government policy emergency. None that I need to drive for, anyway,” she chuckles.
I smile broadly, truly grateful Nat is my best friend. Ever since we met in Geology 101 in our first year of college, we’ve had each other’s backs.
“Thank you. I should have money coming in soon, so I won’t need you to rescue me for much longer,” I offer apologetically.
She waves a dismissive hand my way. “Girl, it’s not an issue. I’m just happy to help you get back on the work train!”
“Thanks, again. Seriously. I owe you one.” A beat passes and I realize we’ve been talking about me a lot. “So, what’s new with you, anyway?”
“Well,” says Nat, “Graham finally booked the week away in Portland for our anniversary!”
“Yes! The boyfriend delivers!” I exclaim, though I’m not surprised he came through.
Graham, an old friend of mine and Wyatt’s, is as dependable as they come.
He and Nat have been inseparable ever since I introduced them on Thanksgiving weekend a couple of years back, when she tagged along with me on a trip home from Seattle to see my folks.
It wasn’t long before she decided to move here.
I have Graham to thank for my best friend living in my hometown—another reason moving back here was a good decision.
“I know, I’m so excited. Especially with how much he’s been working lately. So much overtime! They’ve got some new, big-deal client, so they’re all working ridiculous hours. His boss just keeps piling more work on him, and he’s having trouble saying no.”
I shake my head, smirking at Graham’s over-the-top work ethic.
“You know, he’s always been like that. Even in high school!
He’d bring his homework over to my house and get it done before doing anything fun.
” I smile at the memory of Graham as a lanky teenager hunched over his assignments at our dining room table.
“Well, he’s not allowed to bring any homework on this trip.” She sighs. “Anyway, it’ll be great to get away.” Nat grins, tugging down the sleeves of her bright yellow athletic top. The color is gorgeous against the deep brown of her skin.
“Love that for you both. Sounds very romantic, may I add.” I pump my eyebrows to accentuate the point, and she scoffs, though I know she loves it.
A buzzing comes from inside my hoodie pocket. I pull out my phone. There’s a new text from a number that isn’t saved in my contacts. My heart falters for a beat. Glancing at Nat, I open the message.
Unknown number
Olena, it’s Sean.
Heart suddenly kicking in my chest, I quickly delete the message and slide the phone back into my pocket, my hand shaking slightly.
“Nat?” I swallow and try to steady my breathing.
“What is it?”
I’m silent for a moment, my brows knit together with worry.
“Len? Everything okay?”
“Um…” I look out the car window but no one’s there. My eyes search up and down the street, only seeing the usual rush of traffic and people on the sidewalk going in and out of shops and apartment complexes. “Maybe? Or… No? I don’t know.” I turn to Nat again. “Sean just texted me.”
She pauses before responding, her eyebrows raised in shock. “What the fuck? Not okay. You told him specifically not to contact you.” She frowns deeply. “What a dick. Are you alright?”
I take a breath. “I don’t know,” is all I can say in reply, my eyes still scanning the sidewalk outside the car, all the work-joy suddenly soured.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asks carefully. “Break his knees? Knock out his teeth? Send him anthrax in the mail?”
I can’t help but smile half-heartedly. “Thanks,” I say in a quiet voice. “Tempting. But no physical assault or acts of domestic terrorism, please,” I say dryly. “Too messy.”
Nat sucks her teeth. “Details, details.” She pauses. “So, what’d he say?”
“Just Olena, it’s Sean. I don’t know what he wants. I deleted it.”
My kingdom for a way to delete him—and what happened to us—from my memory.
“Good,” Nat says. “Man, fuck that guy.”
“Yeah.”
We sit in silence for a moment.
“Hey, have you eaten breakfast?” she asks in a motherly tone. I’m sure she suspects I haven’t fed myself properly, as usual.
“Sort of,” I hedge. “I had half of Wyatt’s eggs and a thinking cookie. Does that count?”
She looks at me blankly. “Did the cookie actually help you think about what else to eat?”
I laugh sardonically. “No. Never does.”
Nat lets out a breath, clearly not at all surprised, and starts the car. “Figures. Well, that settles it. I’m buying you brunch after climbing.” She pulls out into the street.
I look at her adoringly. “See, this is why I love you.”
Nat gives me a look, her eyebrows raised. “Now, about that date last night…”
I grimace. “Buckle up.”
Gasping, I bolt up out of bed with my face and neck dripping with sweat, my t-shirt soaked through and goosebumps prickling over my bare arms. I’m shivering, heartbeat pounding in my chest. A sudden lurch in my stomach sends me bursting out of my dark bedroom, racing to the bathroom down the hall just in time to vomit into the toilet.
I grip the sides of the seat with white knuckles as my head spins.
Moments later, Wyatt comes in, flicking on the glaringly bright light. I wince. Once my eyes adjust, I see concern etched on his half-asleep face.
He rubs my back. “Another nightmare?”
I swallow hard and nod, wiping my mouth on a piece of toilet paper and shutting the toilet lid. I flush, still kneeling on the floor.
Sam appears at the door. “Everything okay?” he asks with matching concern in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” I manage to say in a hoarse voice. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat as I push myself up on shaky legs to get my toothbrush.
“Do you need anything, babe?” Wyatt asks, rubbing my back again. “Glass of water? Heating pad?”
Shaking my head, I reach for the toothpaste with a trembling hand. I send them back to bed with promises that the awful part is over now. I’m still shivering, but I know once I change my clothes, I’ll warm up again. I always do.
I really need to go see that therapist Nat recommended, I think numbly. Trauma, anxiety, nightmares, panic attacks… and, hell, probably ADHD in the mix. I really need to look into that. Shit. My mental health isn’t stellar right now. But neither is my bank account, so it’ll have to wait.
I watch from the bathroom as Wyatt rubs Sam’s shoulders reassuringly, mumbling something I can’t quite hear as they shuffle back to Wyatt’s room.
Sam looks back at me over his shoulder and gives me a small smile, a mix of sympathy and worry on his face.
I turn to finish brushing my teeth as they shut the door.