Hey Jude (Lennox Valley Chronicles #1)

“Oh, God, not a chance. Have you spoken to the youths lately?” Wyatt asks, rolling his eyes. “Because I spend all day with them at the deli. There’s no way. Too much drama. I’m constantly helping them figure out their little baby love lives. There’s not much upstairs just yet, you know what I mean?”

“So, you prefer my brilliant mind, do you?” Sam flirts, leaning toward Wyatt suggestively.

Wyatt smiles and kisses him.

“Ugh, get a room, you two, shoot!” Nat interjects, ripping off a piece of her bread roll and tossing it at them. It hits Wyatt on the shoulder and he looks up at her in alarm and amusement.

“Oh, leave them be,” I say, coming to their defense. “They’re cute. Plus, it’s Sam’s birthday. No bread pelting allowed.”

Sam looks at Nat smugly, agreeing with me.

The reality is, Sam and Wyatt are the most solid couple I know; they’ve been together three years now, and often talk about getting married. Their plan is to move in together once Sam finishes business school and Wyatt can get a better job than managing the deli. For now, Sam’s living with his parents and Wyatt’s saving money by splitting the rent with me.

I watch their easy closeness with envy. The contrasting image of Jude high-tailing it away from me flashes in my mind, and I frown to myself.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out. Another text from a number I don’t recognize.

Why won’t you respond? Talk to me.

The crease in my brow deepens as I delete the message and quickly block the number. I feel queasy.

“So, when do you start work for Uncle Charles?” Wyatt asks from the kitchen, breaking into my thoughts. He’s gotten up to take dishes to the sink, so he doesn’t catch the look on my face as I stare at my phone. I glance up. Nat and Sam are busy talking to each other and haven’t noticed either.

I blink and force myself back into the present with my friends, pushing Sean’s text out of my head. I put my phone back in my pocket. “Oh, um, right away, basically. I’m going to be taking measurements and working on the designs this week.”

“So, you’ll be back at the job site on Monday?” Nat cuts in with a knowing look on her face. She pops a bite of bread into her mouth, grinning. “Will Jude be there?” She draws out his name, pumping her eyebrows.

I swat her in the arm, then take a deep breath. Yes. Yes, he will.

9

OLENA

I’m already regretting getting out of bed as we pull up to the curb next to Lyons Park, last night’s merriment having carried on late enough that I could have used a few more hours of sleep. Natalie parks under a large oak tree. Black Bear River flows calmly along the opposite side of the park, a paved footpath following the river’s edge, the burbling sound of the water a familiar backdrop for our Sunday morning runs. I unclip my seatbelt and cram my phone and keys into the overflowing glove compartment. The lid takes a couple of shoves to latch shut.

I reach around the back of the seat and twist, trying to wake my body up with the stretch. “It’s not too late, you know,” I say to Nat dryly, releasing the stretch and slumping back against the seat. “We can still bail and go get greasy drive-thru breakfast instead of”—I gesture in the general direction of the river in mock disgust—“this.”

Nat smirks. “As tempting as bacon sounds at this fine hour, I’m gonna need to remind you that you agreed to train for that 5k in the fall.”

“Ugh, rude of you to bring that up!” I direct a scowl at Nat.

She rolls her eyes. “Olena, my darling,” she says patiently, “we are going to be fabulous, fit babes.” She flips down the sun visor to look in the mirror, rubbing her eyes. She’s as tired as I am, but she was born with the gene that lets her overcome such things in favor of being practical. “You know,” she continues archly, “the kind who enjoy exercise and talk endlessly about endorphins and protein shakes and collagen supplements.”

“Oh, please promise to shoot me if I ever become that person.” I close my eyes and let out a deep, soul-level sigh. I reconsider. “Well,” I say, “maybe I can accept the fit part and the babes part, but that’s it. No insufferable carrying on about it. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” I open my eyes, bringing my knees up to hug them against my chest. I seem to be having an enthusiasm malfunction this morning. “And you’d better not become that person either or I will disown you!” I narrow my eyes and level a serious glare at Nat.

She raises her hands in defense. “Okay, okay, shoot. I won’t. But we signed up for that 5k together, so let’s muster up the…” Nat trails off and looks past me out the passenger side window, seeming to search for the word in the park beside us. “Strength? Energy? The… chutzpah?” She turns to me with a hopeful expression.

The prospect of mustering up chutzpah hits me in a fresh wave of dread and I whimper dramatically, pulling my hood up over my head as if I can shield myself from reality. I zip up my hoodie with a scowl and yank on the laces, cinching the hood almost shut so only my nose sticks out.

“Oh, come on,” says Nat, “it’s not gonna be that bad.”

“It’s going to be the worst and I don’t wanna.” My whiny toddler voice is muffled against the inside of my sweatshirt, but there’s no turning back; I’m committed to my petulant performance and Nat knows it. I expect her to play the part of responsible adult now. That’s how this always goes. But I don’t hear her cajoling me along like usual.

“Nat?” I ask uncertainly, wondering what the dead air is all about.

“What? Oh, yeah, right.” She sounds distracted.

“Aren’t you going to convince me to get out of the car? This is normally when you’re like ‘Olena, running always makes you feel better, come on,’ or ‘Olena, get your ass out of the car and put on your big girl pants’ or—”