Chapter 46 Jude
JUDE
The only thing more alarming than seeing a car I don’t recognize parked near my driveway is the scene illuminated in front of me when I pull up to the house.
Time seems to slow as I process what I’m seeing.
Olena stands at the foot of the porch steps, stiff and trembling.
She’s got a vise grip on something I can’t quite see—a canister of something?
—in her outstretched arms, aiming it at a man on the ground.
His hands are tied behind his back as he writhes and struggles in front of her, his eyes swollen, red, and squeezed shut, in obvious pain.
She turns and squints as I drive up, blinking repeatedly.
I’m out of the truck in an instant, running to her.
Murphy follows at my heels, barking and growling at the man, who must be Sean.
“Olena!” I say, my eyes wide. I stop in front of them. “Oh my God…”
“Call 9-1-1,” she grits out. She’s breathing hard, her voice strained.
Of course. No phone, so she couldn’t call for help. I reach into my back pocket for my phone. Murphy’s still barking and I call him to my side, quieting him, and dial 9-1-1.
Taking in the knot, which would put any boy scout to shame, it doesn’t look like Sean’s got a hope in hell of wriggling out. My eyes widen when they settle on Olena’s hands, and I realize the canister in her shaking grasp is bear spray. Holy shit.
Sean jerks on the ground, groaning with the strain of fighting to get free. “I can’t fucking see!” he wheezes out, angry and desperate.
Her eyes snap down to him. “Shut the fuck up, Sean,” she snaps, her voice ragged. She coughs, looking like she’s struggling to take a deep breath. Probably from the bear spray. That shit gets everywhere.
My mind reels as I wait for the 9-1-1 operator. “Jesus, Olena…” I press a fist to my forehead. Where’d she even get bear spray? What just happened here?
Relaying what I can to the operator, I’m soon assured the police and ambulance are on their way and am told to stay on the line.
Putting the call on speakerphone, I place my phone down on the porch and slowly approach Olena.
Meeting her tearful, red eyes is like a punch to the stomach. She looks terrified.
“Let me,” I say gently.
She holds my gaze without moving, still pointing the bear spray at Sean, her breathing ragged. She’s frozen.
I try again. “It’s gonna be okay. Let me help.” I reach a hand toward the canister. “Take my phone and go wait by your car, okay?”
“Olena!” Sean groans, wheezing. “Untie my fucking hands!”
His words seem to snap her into action and she hands me the bear spray, backing away in an unsteady stumble. She grabs my phone and hurries toward her car, looking grateful to put some distance between herself and Sean. Is she limping? What the fuck did this prick do to her? My jaw clenches.
“Fucking let me go!” he wheezes.
When I see Olena reach her car, I turn my attention to the asshole on the ground.
“Not a fucking chance, dickhead,” I grit out at him through clenched teeth.
He hurt her. I could kill him. My concern for Olena is the only thing stopping me from plunging headfirst into a blind rage and taking it out on Sean.
Well, that and knowing that I’ll have to keep it reined in if I don’t want to get hauled away for assault too.
“Fuck you, asshole!” he grinds out hoarsely.
I speak in a deadly calm. “This ends here. You’re never gonna see her again.”
He groans again, wheezing from the bear spray’s inflammatory effects on his airway.
The ambulance arrives in minutes, followed closely by the police, who quickly take over. They handcuff Sean and cut the rope restraint. While one paramedic assesses Sean, the other checks over Olena.
“You’re gonna want to wash up after touching that stuff,” an officer says to me, tilting her chin at the canister of bear spray in my hand.
I nod, then place it on the porch, numbly wiping my hands on my jeans. Seeing that Olena is busy speaking to another officer, I duck into the house. I quickly change my clothes, then wash my hands thoroughly to remove any residue.
It’s only when I come back outside that I spot the knife; the gleaming edge of the blade is just visible from under one of the benches, lit up by the red and blue police lights.
My stomach drops and my eyes snap to Olena, who is rubbing her arms in the chill of the evening air as she relays her statement to the officer.
He pulled a fucking knife on her. A weight descends heavily over me as I watch her.
She glances over and meets my eyes before she looks back to the officer in front of her.
He motions to yet another officer, who confers with him quickly before coming up to search the porch.
Standing there in a state of shock, I numbly point out the knife. He quickly bags it, then places the bear spray in a separate bag before walking away.
I can’t take my eyes off Olena, marveling at what she pulled off.
The relief I feel knowing she got the upper hand with Sean mixes with a thick, hot nausea.
Bile rises in my throat when I think of what could have happened to her.
If Sean had hurt her—or worse, if he’d taken her from me—and on my own front porch…
The idea of losing her claws at the inside of my ribs, threatening to deflate my lungs.
She looks cold and exhausted. I go into the house and find a spare blanket, bringing it outside.
Walking over to her, I silently wrap it around her shoulders.
The gesture feels small and inconsequential; I wish I could wrap her up in safety—take away the trauma of fighting for her life against someone she never should have had to face at all, let alone by herself.
She looks up at me gratefully, clutching the corners of the blanket into her chest.
The officer finishes taking her statement and hands over his business card so she can get in touch later. With a nod at me, he plods away, leaving us alone.
We turn to face each other. For a moment, neither of us speaks.
“Did he hurt you?” is all I can think to ask. “You were limping…”
“I’m okay.” She looks at the ground.
I exhale a long breath. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here.”
“No, it’s okay.” She lifts her eyes to look at me.
“No. It’s not fucking okay. He had a knife, Olena.” I step toward her. “He could’ve—”
“I know.” She closes her eyes, looking exhausted.
My brow creases as I realize how badass Olena had to have been to bear spray her knife-wielding ex in the face and then single-handedly tie him up. I look over at the porch, rubbing my jaw.
“But this was my mess to clean up,” she says.
When my gaze meets hers, her eyes are filled with heartbreaking emotion.
“Look, I know I should’ve told you about this—about Sean.” Her voice wavers. I can tell she’s trying hard to keep it together. “I’m gutted that I hurt you.”
I grimace, the pain all too close to the surface, and cross my arms over my chest.
“I know I can’t fix that,” she continues.
“But I came here because I need you to know I’m sorry.
” She closes her eyes, almost wincing. “I know I apologize constantly for every little thing.” She meets my gaze and takes a breath.
“But this was a big thing. And I’m devastated every single day when I think about how I hurt you.
How you looked when you left that morning.
” Fresh tears slide down her cheek. “It’s been eating me up inside ever since. ”
I say nothing—a knot growing in my throat—and wait, watching her.
Her hair is a mess from the struggle with Sean, backlit by the flashing red and blue police lights. Tears streak through the dirt on her face and her eyes blaze, lit with a newfound courage that looks both daring and fragile.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” She pauses. “But I need you to know I’ll be okay. Even if you never forgive me. Even if you never want to see me again.”
“Olena…” I uncross my arms, my stomach twisting.
“Hold on, I’m not done.” She takes another steadying breath.
I put my hands in my pockets and shut my mouth. Wyatt’s words float through my mind: Hear her out.
“Look, I know I suck at being an adult in a lot of ways,” she says.
“But I needed to do this myself. I needed to prove…” Her eyes well up again and she looks away, blowing out a slow breath.
When she steadies, she turns back to me.
“I needed to prove to myself that I could handle this. And I did. I did handle this. I got a restraining order against Sean. And then today… well, you saw…”
My eyes fall to the ground between us and I nod, knowing I’ll never forget the sight that greeted me when I pulled up.
“Everything Sean did… it made me feel so fucking powerless, like I didn’t have control of my own life.
” She pauses, taking a steadying breath.
“I had to take that control back. Take my power back. That’s why I needed to do this myself.
And I didn’t tell you because I was scared.
” Her voice wavers with emotion. “Scared you’d think I was too much, too messy, that I had too much baggage, or that I wasn’t worth the trouble. And you’re so…”
I look up.
“You’re so… fucking wonderful,” she says, her eyes widening, “that I couldn’t stomach the idea of you thinking that about me.”
I slant a small smile at her words. How could I ever see her as anything less than incredible? Especially after what she’s just done.
“But you know what I realized? I’m so fucking sick of being scared all the time.
And I’m sick of that script. I’m done, Jude.
I am done trying to hide and shrink and mold myself into what other people want from me.
Or what I think they want, anyway. I’m allowed to have baggage and I’m allowed to fuck up…
” She looks away, taking a deep breath, before meeting my gaze again.
“And I don’t need you, or Nat, or Wyatt, or anyone else to save me.
” She stops, looking like she’s carefully guarding against what I’ll say in response.
I look at her for a long moment. “Good,” I say simply, exhaling hard around the obstruction in my throat.
She startles at my unexpected response. “What do you mean, good? I thought—”
“I don’t want you to need me.” I look up at the sky and shake my head.
“What?” she breathes, furrowing her brow.
I meet her tearful eyes. “I don’t want you to need me, Olena,” I say again, quieter this time. I take a step closer. “I want you to want me.”
She shudders out a breath, her eyes searching mine.
I reach out, sliding my hands over her arms.
She closes her eyes at my touch and takes a deep breath before meeting my gaze again.
I continue, moving in closer, my voice low.
“The way I want you. So badly it’s killing me.
Seeing you at work and knowing you’ll leave without me at the end of the day.
Knowing I won’t have you in my bed at night.
Or wake up next to you in the morning.” I blink back my own emotion as my eyes dip down to her lips.
I look back at her tear-filled eyes. “Olena, it feels like there’s this gaping hole in my life where you used to fit. ” I take a deep, steadying breath.
She looks at me in disbelief. “Jude…”
The police cruiser pulls slowly out of the driveway with Sean locked in the backseat.
As it disappears from view, I meet her gaze again.
“Olena, you don’t owe me every detail about your past. We’ve known each other, what, a month?
” I smooth a hand over my chin and laugh wryly at the realization: how quickly things have moved between us in that short time.
A hint of a smile tugs at her lips.
“And I can see that you don’t need my help. Clearly. You were… fucking incredible today.” I shake my head, still in awe of what she did. “Messy baggage and all—and God knows I’ve got my own—that shit doesn’t scare me, okay?”
She nods, and the last of the police cars pulls onto the road, leaving us in the quiet of the night.
“So, you might not need my help, but it’s here if you want it. I’m here. For you.” My brows knit together as I try to get the words out. “I want to know these things about you.” I reach a hand to her face, brushing my thumb over her cheek.
Her eyes close and she exhales softly.
I brush the hair back from her forehead and she looks up at me again. “I want to know everything about you.” I smile down at her. “Even the hard stuff. Even the scary stuff. Especially the scary stuff.” I raise my eyebrows.
A slight grimace crosses her features at the reminder of what she didn’t tell me. She nods again.
“And speaking of scary stuff… I owe you an apology too.” I take a deep breath. “I should never have walked out on you when you were in danger.” My voice is low in my throat. “That’s not what you do when you love somebody.”
She sucks in a breath and her eyes widen, searching mine. “What?” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.
“Olena…” My heart aches looking at her: this beautiful, strong, incredible woman. I reach up to cradle her face in my hands, my fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck. I lean down, my lips inches from hers. “I love you,” I breathe, smiling.
Her brown eyes brim with tears once again.
The blanket falls to the ground as she rises up to kiss me hard, her hands clutching at my shirt, pulling me close.
As our kiss softens and she pulls back, her expression is a mixture of relief and pain.
The emotion of everything that’s happened between us spills over her features and she slides her arms around my waist, sagging into my embrace.
I hold her as she cries softly against my chest. The feeling of my arms around her again brings me such relief; I close my eyes and try to keep it together.
“I love you too,” she says against my chest.
I exhale a jagged breath and smile. Rubbing her arms, I rest my chin on her head. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”