Chapter 41 Olena
OLENA
Settling onto the couch at home with my laptop, I open my email and attempt to get caught up.
The window above me is open, letting in a cool breeze.
It’s been warm again and the fresh air feels nice.
Not much else feels nice right now. I take a breath and try to be present, noticing how the air feels on my neck.
When welcoming Charles and Carol home from Seattle earlier today, I told them I had some administrative things to do and would be heading home early so I could focus here.
The truth is, I couldn’t stomach staying any longer than necessary with Jude nearby, even with both of us dodging each other; the change in his body language around me was too painful.
As I got into my car, I couldn’t help but feel his eyes on me.
But, when I turned to meet his gaze, he looked away.
I start to sort through invoices from the nursery when the sounds of angry shouting suddenly drift in from outside.
My fingers freeze over the keyboard, hovering in midair as I listen.
I hastily set down my laptop when I hear more shouts and I recognize Wyatt’s voice.
Scrambling up on the couch to see if I can get a better look, I crane my neck to see the front entrance of our building.
I can just make out Wyatt standing in his work clothes, gesturing angrily at…
Oh, shit. A wave of nausea churns in my stomach.
He actually showed up. How did Sean find out where we lived?
I pause another moment, feeling a mixture of panic and anger before realizing I need to go down there.
This is my life and my mess; I can’t leave Wyatt—or Jude or anyone else—to fight this battle alone for me.
My heart races as I jam my feet into my shoes and snatch up my coat.
I run down the two flights of stairs to the main floor, pushing out the door that leads to the lobby.
Sean spots me as I shove open the glass door at the main entrance.
“Olena, baby…” Sean says, looking relieved to see me.
I’m anything but relieved to see him.
“Olena, don’t come out here. I’m handling this,” Wyatt says, holding a hand out in front of me. “You should stay inside.”
“No, Wyatt, you shouldn't need to deal with him,” I say, though I’m grateful he’s here and willing to stand up for me.
“Deal with me?” Sean throws his arms out at his sides, his shoulders pulled up. “What the fuck, Olena? I’m just here to talk to you. Don’t be so dramatic.” He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, looking away.
I monitor his movements carefully, looking for signs that he might be high.
Wyatt cuts in. “What’s fucking dramatic, Sean, is you showing up here after Olena specifically, and repeatedly, told you it was over.” His wide eyes are filled with resentment. He’s pissed.
“Wyatt, I’ve got this.” My voice is firm and I put my hand on his arm. “Go back inside.” I flick my eyes to the door.
“I’m not leaving you with this prick!” Wyatt says, frowning as he lifts his chin at Sean.
Sean pulls his head back, recoiling. “Who are you calling a prick, Wyatt? Jesus Christ…” He shakes his head.
“Wyatt,” I say again, my eyes wide. “I can handle this. I’m okay for now.” I tilt my head toward the door. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t, I promise.”
“Okay, fine, but I’m waiting in the lobby for you.” Wyatt looks at me with wide eyes.
Then he narrows his eyes at Sean once more, shaking his head. He flicks his gaze to me, pointing at Sean. “You know this asshole actually went online to find out where I worked and then fucking followed me home to find you?”
I whirl to face Sean, wide-eyed, my arms out at my sides. “What the hell, Sean? What the fuck is wrong with you?” This violation reignites the anger that’s been smoldering in me since yesterday. I pin him with a look of disgust.
Wyatt shakes his head again and turns away. “You’re a fucking piece of shit, Sean.”
I glance over my shoulder as he opens the main entrance door and steps inside the lobby.
Sean steps toward me and I quickly take a step back. He lets out a breath, looking frustrated. “Baby, I had to find out where you were. You said you were gonna stay with Wyatt when you came back here, so… Listen, I had to find you!” He reaches out his hand, pleading with me.
I frown, repulsed.
He looks unwell. He has dark circles under his eyes.
His hair is shaved in an unflattering buzz cut, shorter than how he used to wear it.
The old brown leather jacket and jeans he’s wearing look a size too big for him and hang off his frame.
He’s lost weight. While he doesn’t appear to be high currently, he must still be using regularly.
I’d feel sad for him if I wasn’t so angry.
“No, you did not have to find me. I told you not to contact me,” I shout at Sean, swiping both hands across the space between us to emphasize the point. “I don’t want anything to do with you!”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“You need to turn around and go home. Stay out of my fucking life.”
“I can’t, baby.” He shrugs. “I need you to see that I can get clean. I can be better.” He straightens.
“Look, I’m not high right now. I can do it.
Just take me back. I’ll be good. Fuck… I miss you so much.
” He tries to approach me with his arms outstretched and I recoil, holding my palms out in front of me. He stops, looking hurt.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I say to him, seething. I hope he can see the hatred in my eyes. “Such a gross move. You know this makes me feel more unsafe about you, right?”
“Unsafe? What’ve I done that’s unsafe?” He looks genuinely confused.
I let loose an exasperated breath. I hate him. “Um, harassing me when I kept begging you to stop, for one. Stalking me? Stalking Wyatt to find me?” My brow knits together in a deep glare, my jaw hanging open at his willful ignorance. I’m baffled that I even have to explain this.
“Stalking? Are you kidding me?” He scoffs as he looks away, wiping a hand down his jaw.
I widen my eyes to show I am deadly serious. “What the fuck did you think this would accomplish?” I can’t believe he’s got his head so far up his own ass that he doesn’t get it.
“What other choice did I have?” He throws his arms out at his sides. “You wouldn’t fucking listen to me!”
“Because the answer is fucking no, Sean. It’s you who isn’t listening.”
He puts his hands on his hips and turns to pace the entryway, shaking his head.
“I told you I was with someone else, anyway.” I neglect to mention this drama with Sean has put an end to that.
“Don’t.” He stops in his tracks, lifting his chin like I’ve hurt his pride.
I don’t care.
“What do you mean, ‘don’t’? How else can I make you see it’s over?” I throw my arms out at my sides in frustration. “Why can’t you just accept that I’ve moved on?” My voice is getting louder as my anger takes over.
“No, you haven’t.” He smiles ruefully and shakes his head. “I don’t believe you. There’s no other guy.”
“Yes, there is. And he’s incredible. And he would never treat me like this.” There’s fire in my eyes as I needle him with the comparison.
“Fuck!” Sean shouts, grabbing his head with both hands, like he can’t bear to imagine me with anyone else.
I’m beyond caring about his feelings. I will hit him where it hurts if I have to. “You need to leave.” I point at the road.
People on the sidewalk nearby are stopping to watch us. Some are whispering.
“Why would you do this?” Sean asks with a sneer.
“We’re done, we’ve been done, and even if we hadn’t? You’d have put a nail in that fucking coffin with this shit, Sean.” I cup my hands around my mouth. “Go home,” I say, projecting my voice in a loud monotone as if that’ll help get the message through.
“You can’t do this to me.” When I don’t respond, he gets louder. “I said you can’t fucking do this to me!”
I flinch as his face comes closer to mine, his eyes bulging in anger in a way I’ve never seen. I don’t recognize the man I used to live with.
Wyatt opens the door behind me. “Sean! Fuck off! Leave her alone!”
Glancing at Wyatt, Sean breathes hard in his rage.
He looks back at me once more, stepping closer still, his jaw clenching as he reins himself in.
He keeps his voice low, seething with righteous anger.
“I won’t let you leave me. I’m gonna fucking make you see we belong together.
You”—he places a fingertip on my sternum and I flinch—“belong to me and no one else.”
I quickly swat his hand away as Wyatt comes up beside me.
Sean glances at him, then turns and stalks out of the entryway.
The gathered onlookers move aside to give him a wide berth as he turns down the sidewalk, disappearing from view.
My hands are shaking. Wyatt touches my shoulder. I turn to him and he searches my eyes. He sees the tears welling up and moves to give me a hug.
“No.” I back up a step as I brush him off. “I don’t want a hug. I don’t want to cry anymore.” Balling my hands into fists at my sides, I pace in the entryway in front of him. “I’m sick of this bullshit.”
Wyatt watches me with an empathetic crease in his brow.
I stop, turning back to him, my anger burning. “I’m sick of being afraid all the time!” A tear spills down my cheek.
He only nods.
When I can trust myself to speak again, I swipe at my eyes and look up at him. “This has to stop.” Suddenly cold, I hug my arms tight to my chest. “Can you come with me to the police station?”