Hey Jude (Lennox Valley Chronicles #1)

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.