Chapter 28 Olena
OLENA
Charles catches me early Monday morning and asks if I’d like to join him and Carol for a cup of coffee inside to discuss something.
I haven’t seen Jude yet, although his truck is parked in the driveway; even the knowledge that he’s here is weighing on my heart.
Grateful for any reason to avoid facing him for a little longer, I agree and head inside.
As I walk toward the front door behind Charles, I look up to see a crew of roofers removing moss from the shingles and washing and suctioning out the gutters.
Along the path, Teddy cuts through the weeds with a pressure washer, turning the machine off as we walk past and throwing me a quick wave.
A delivery truck beeps, backing into the driveway.
Collectively, it all feels a bit much and I’m relieved to step inside the quiet house and sit down at Charles’ invitation.
“Olena, my darling, you’ve done absolute wonders out there!” Carol beams as she pokes her head into the dining room from the kitchen.
Charles sits across from me at the table, smiling in agreement.
“Thank you; it’s starting to look great, I think.
” I squeeze my hands together, looking away.
“It’s been such a wonderful project to work on.
You have a beautiful property here. And a beautiful home too.
” I gesture at the house around us. Several areas are still under renovation but the home itself retains its classic beauty.
“Well, glad to hear that, actually, because we wanted to talk to you about the house,” Charles says.
I look at him with confusion; my area is the outside stuff. “I don’t understand.” I smile politely.
“Well, Wyatt was telling us a while back that he and Sam have some trouble getting time for just the two of them,” Charles explains.
Carol joins us with coffees on a tray, reminding me of the last time I sat at this table. I glance briefly at the empty chair where Jude had sat that day, remembering how my cheeks flushed when he let it be known he was single.
“I guess, between Sam living at his parents’ house and Wyatt living with you, they don’t have their own space,” says Carol, settling down into her seat beside me.
“Oh…” I nod, then chuckle in an effort to cover up my staggering confusion. “Sorry, I’m not following. What does this have to do with me?”
“Oh, Charles, we’ve gone and explained it all back to front!
” Carol laughs and waves a hand in front of her face as if to dismiss the confusion.
“See, the noise here with all the construction is getting to be a bit much for us.” She glances at Charles.
“And we’ve got a chance to stay in Seattle for a week with friends. ”
Charles cuts in. “We were hoping you might consider house-sitting for us while we’re away.” He gives me a hopeful look.
“Oh!” I take a moment to consider the unexpected offer.
“We thought it was perfect, didn’t we, Charles?
” Carol asks. He nods as she carries on, turning to me.
“If you could come stay here, Wyatt and Sam could have some time at your apartment for the week, and you would have a very short commute to work. You could take care of the plants, bring in the mail… all that usual stuff. You know, keep an eye on things.” Carol pats my arm and I smile.
“Oh, wow, well, that’s a very generous offer!” I say with gratitude. This house is beautiful. I look around the dining room, trying to imagine staying here on my own. Their home is enormous for just one person.
“Zero pressure, of course,” Charles adds. “We could always ask Wyatt and Sam to stay, but we thought it would work better for you, since you’re already driving out here every day, anyway.”
“We’d just love to help Wyatt out and give him some special time together with Sam. They remind me of when Charles and I were dating when we were younger. It was so hard to find time alone.” Carol looks wistful.
“Well, that’s because your overprotective parents never let us out of their sight whenever I came around,” Charles says with raised eyebrows.
Carol turns to me with delight shining in her eyes. “It’s true, they thought he was a…” She looks at Charles. “What was my father’s word for you? A scoundrel. Oh goodness, they were old-fashioned!” Carol laughs melodically as Charles shrugs, chuckling.
I smile, struggling to picture any version of reality in which Charles could be a scoundrel.
“Anyway, darling, let us know what you think. We leave on Wednesday, back the following Wednesday night.” Carol smiles as she and Charles observe me for any sign of my reaction to their offer.
“Wow, that’s pretty soon. Okay. Well, yeah. I mean, sure! I’d love to!” I say, feeling cautiously optimistic about the arrangement. Not having to drive here every day would be pretty convenient. I could even sleep in. I can’t think of a reason to say no.
“Oh, fabulous, well, that’s settled, then!” Carol pats my arm again. “This all worked out well, didn’t it? Come on, I’ll show you around the house.”
Leaving the Faulkners’ home, I’m feeling a little unsure about the commitment I’ve just made.
Teddy has finished power washing the path and, as my feet travel along the wet cobblestones, I turn around to look up at the house, walking backwards a few steps to get the full view.
It’s beautiful—ladders, scaffolding, and all.
I let my gaze drop and turn back toward the driveway, heading to my car to grab my notebook. Then I stop short. Jude stands a few feet ahead of me on the path. My contemplative smile falls from my face as I take in the concern etched into his features.
“Hey,” he says, searching my eyes.
“Hi,” I reply softly.
We stand there looking at each other for a moment. The silence between us feels heavy.
“Look,” he says, “you don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
I inhale, my brow creasing.
He goes on. “But just tell me you’re okay. Tell me I haven’t fucked this all up.”
“Jude…” I don’t know what to say. I shake my head. “It’s not… It’s not you. You were…” I look up at the sky, blinking, trying to keep my composure and find the words. How can I express how incredible this man is?
Memories of Friday night threaten to flood my mind.
My eyes lower back to his. “There are just… things from my past I’m still working through.”
He looks down at the ground, nodding gravely, and puts his hands in his pockets.
“I told you, I’m a mess.”
He snaps his head up to meet my eyes, his expression almost a warning. “Olena, listen.” He takes a step toward me, his voice low. “Take whatever time you need.”
My eyes close. When I open them again, his expression is pained.
“I’ll wait.” He says the words so simply.
“Jude,” I say in disbelief.
“I meant what I said. I’m done running. I’m not scared off by this, Olena.”
I look away.
“I may not know what happened, but I know what matters.”
My eyes meet his.
“I know this,” he gestures between us, “is worth waiting for. You’re worth waiting for.”
The tears threaten to fall once again. I can’t speak. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into.
“You say the word…” He levels me with a look. “You tell me when you’re ready,” he says, his green eyes burning with intensity, “and I’m all in.”
At that, he walks away, leaving me standing on the path, speechless. He crosses the lawn, running a hand through his hair.
Jude keeps a respectful distance from me for the rest of the day. I try to forget what he said and concentrate on work; letting it in is too painful. I know I can’t let him get tangled up in my baggage, so I can’t dwell on his promise to wait.
Wait for what, exactly, anyway? How much time do I need to sort this out? What do I do about Sean?
Unable to focus, and noticing we’re ahead of schedule with the necessary tasks on-site, I head home earlier than usual. I change into my sweats and snuggle into the couch under a blanket, tucking it up under my chin and down over my toes.
I need to figure out what to do about Sean.
He won’t listen to me when I tell him to leave me alone and he’s still using drugs, which makes everything more complicated.
He’s more persistent in his attempts to talk me into moving back to Seattle, which worries me.
I wish he’d accept we broke up and just go away.
With no solution, my thoughts inevitably drift back to Jude. He really wants to wait for me? Why is he so sure about me? He doesn’t know about the robbery or about Sean. Should I tell him about Sean’s recent calls? Would he still want to wait for me then?
Probably not. No one wants someone with a dumpster-fire of an ex that won’t go away.
The tears start falling as I wrestle with the grip Jude has on me already. I must be kidding myself to think I can back away from what we started. To think I can avoid him. That I can work alongside him.
Keys turn in the door and Wyatt comes in to find me sobbing on the couch. Hanging up his keys and kicking off his shoes, he hurries over to me and sits down. He pulls me into a hug and strokes my hair.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks softly.
I look up at him, wiping my nose with the crumpled tissue in my hand.
Without thinking, I launch right in, consumed by my swirling thoughts.
“He just keeps texting me and calling me and he won’t leave me alone, Wyatt, no matter what I say!
I don’t know what to do!” I fall into his embrace again. “He’s scaring me…”
“What?” Wyatt pulls himself away to face me, looking angry. “That fucking asshole! I told him not to hurt you.” He shakes his head ruefully.
I freeze. “What?”
“I told him! Oh, man, I could kill him.” Wyatt rubs his forehead with his palms.
“Wait. When did you talk to him?” I have no idea what’s happening.
“Yesterday. He came into the deli.”
My stomach lurches. “Oh my God. Sean is in Lennox?”
“Sean? What do you mean? No. Jude. I was gonna say… he didn’t seem like… Wait… You were talking about Sean? Sean has been calling you?”
I nod nervously.
“What the fuck! Since when?” Wyatt’s clearly pissed I didn’t tell him.
Guilt twists my stomach. “I don’t know… he’s texted a couple of times in the last few weeks… And when he started to call, I tried to ignore him, but he kept calling, and—”
“What has he been saying to you, Olena?” Wyatt searches my eyes.
“He keeps asking me to come home even though I told him I won’t, that I don’t want to be with him, and he won’t take no for an answer. And then he gets angry… and I know last time he called he was high, and… Wyatt, what do I do? He’s freaking me out!”
He puffs his cheeks as he blows out a long, frustrated breath.
When he speaks again, his voice is calmer.
“That fucking prick. I thought you were talking about Jude.” He runs a hand through his hair and sinks back into the couch, placing his other hand on his stomach.
“Thank God. I was trying to figure out how to kick his ass.”
I sniff. “You were gonna kick Jude’s ass for me?” I can’t help but smile at the mental image.
“Well, obviously. I have to defend my best girl.” He squeezes my knee and smiles at me sadly. “Oh, thank God, babe, honestly… I put on my best butch attitude yesterday to warn him not to fuck with you. But I don’t have it in me long-term.” He chuckles, putting his arm around me again.
I turn and smile up at him. “You went all butch in front of Jude? To defend my honor?” I’m having a hard time picturing it, but what I can imagine is both sweet and hilarious. “Thank you.” I wrap my arm around his waist and squeeze him.
Wyatt sits up again to look at me. “Okay, so, wait… Sean’s been giving you shit for weeks? Why didn’t you tell me? Does Nat know?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
“I told her about the first text,” I admit.
“But after that… I don’t know. I guess I just wanted him to get the hint and go away, and kept hoping he would.
But then he’d call again… Maybe I didn’t want to admit to myself that Sean was still in my life.
Things were going so well with Jude, and I wanted to just shut Sean out of my mind.
Obviously, that didn’t work, though…” I trail off. I still don’t know what to do.
“Hey. It’s okay.” Wyatt smoothes back my hair, sighing. “I’m glad you told me now. We’ll figure something out. And good news about Jude, I guess.” He exhales. “Man, he’s even prettier up close.”
“I know,” I say, my eyes wide.
“He told me what happened on Saturday morning.”
I close my eyes and grimace, not wanting to remember. “Yeah?”
“Sounds like a shitty situation. You okay?”
“I think so. Now, anyway. I had a panic attack at his place. He was really good about it, though.” I look down at my hands. “He helped me. It was me who ended up being a jerk and running off.” I grimace at the memory. “I was just so embarrassed he saw that.”
“Oh, babe. It’s not your fault. Trauma fucks with you pretty hard sometimes. If it’s any consolation, he did seem genuinely concerned about you.”
“Yeah. I know.” I pick at a rough fingernail. “I saw him this morning. I told him I need time to figure my shit out.”
“What did he say?” Wyatt asks.
“That he’ll wait for me,” I say in a small voice, with an even smaller smile.
He grabs his chest dramatically, his hand clutching at his heart. He grimaces, then crunches forward, laughing softly and looking pained. “Agh, it hurts so good.”
“I know,” I say, wiping my tears and laughing with him. “How do you think I feel?”