Hey Jude (Lennox Valley Chronicles #1)

I drive home feeling vaguely numb. I get as far as my apartment door before I realize I left my phone behind. Shit. I know exactly where I left it. I can picture where I tossed it down on the bench in the sunken garden.

I groan at the thought of driving all the way back out there to get my phone. I briefly consider texting Carol to ask her to look for it, but then realize I’d need a phone to do that. Laughing joylessly at my dependence on modern technology, I unlock the door to my apartment.

Still holding my keys in my hand, the sudden realization I may never see Jude again descends over me and a wave of grief twists at my insides.

Whoa. Where did that come from?

Sinking slowly onto the chair beside the door, a weight settles deep in my gut at the idea of losing him for good. And I slunk away from work today like a fucking coward. How can I let that be it?

I shake my head. No. I can’t just let him go, especially not when I know I hurt him and never had the courage to apologize. Or to at least tell him how I feel.

Oh God. A sudden, gut-wrenching need to see him claws at me, threatening to swallow me whole. I already know in my bones I’m going back. And not just for my phone.

Sifting through the clutter in my room, it takes me several tries to find a pen that works so I can write Wyatt a note so he doesn’t worry about me when he gets off work and finds me gone. With a drug-addicted stalker ex potentially on the loose, he’d obviously assume the worst. But, when even the ink of my one working pen runs out a few words into my message, I crumple the paper in anger and stuff my shoes back on. It’ll be faster to just jog down to the deli.

Pulling open the door, I see the usual late afternoon crowd of high school students and seniors gathered inside, the savory smell of sandwich meats tempting me to grab an early dinner. But I don’t have time to eat.

Wyatt walks out of the back office, through the kitchen, and looks up; seeing my stricken face, his eyes are instantly on alert and he rushes to the counter to speak with me.

“Everything okay? What are you doing here?” he asks, his eyes shifting around behind me, probably scanning for Sean.

“I’m fine; everything’s fine,” I reassure him, still panting a bit from running there. “I just left my phone at work,” I explain. “And… I need to go back. To see Jude. I need to talk to him. I want to tell him I’m sorry.”

Wyatt tilts his head at me, unsure. “Okay…”

“I need to… I need to see him.” I’m getting impatient now, wishing I could just teleport myself there. “I need to apologize and explain. About Sean and about… Look, I just need to see him again, Wyatt!” I’m getting emotional and loud. That twisting feeling in my stomach is back.

“Okay, okay, it’s alright,” Wyatt says reassuringly, trying to calm me down so I don’t make a scene in front of his customers. He smiles politely at one of the deli patrons who’s staring at us while grabbing napkins from the nearby dispenser.

“I just needed to tell you where I was going,” I say quickly. “If I hurry, I can get back to work before he goes home.”

My anxiety is building; I need to get a move on.

“Okay,” Wyatt says, taking everything in. “Well, I guess… go get your man, babe.” He smiles and winks at me.

I smile nervously at him and rush back to the door. Before I push my way outside, I turn back and call out to him, grinning. “I will! And don’t call me babe!”

44

JUDE

I’m packing up the last of our gear into my truck, so I can take a final look around the property before we leave. Teddy hops into his truck, which is parked beside mine, and pauses to ask if I need a hand doing a last pass before he takes off.

I wave him off. “Nah, I got this, Ted. Thanks, though.”

He smiles and lifts a hand from the steering wheel. “See ya, boss!” he calls from the open window.

I wave back, heading off to do a full walk of the property. There’s almost always some small tool or stash of scrap materials we’ve left behind, even when we’re sure we’ve got everything.

My phone rings in my back pocket and I pull it out.

“Miles, what’s up?” I answer, wondering what my brother wants. I spot a pair of pliers in the grass and stoop to pick them up.

“Hey, man, not much,” Miles replies. “Just calling ‘cause I… Well, I’ve been thinking about some things. And I wanted to say thanks.”

I pause. I’m listening for any signs he’s been drinking, and so far, nothing. “Uh, thanks for what?” I reply dubiously.

“For letting me crash a couple weeks back.” He sounds unusually steady.