When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

6. Patrick

Chapter 6

Patrick

W e get back to the station just as the sky deepens into twilight. The temperatures are cooling, the leaves starting to turn yellow and drop. Most of the summer crowds are gone, but there are still tourists and locals alike walking past the station on their way to the cafes and bars along Main Street.

As we unload, I make a point of thanking each member of my crew personally, offering a grateful nod or a handshake, before addressing them as a group. “Great work today, everyone. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

The crew packs up their gear, and several of them invite me to join them for a drink at the Lighthouse Bar—a regular tradition after a hard day.

“Come on, you’ve earned it.” One of the fellas slings an arm over my shoulder.

Shaking my head, I unload another piece of equipment from the truck. “Sorry. I’ve got things to wrap up here, and more work to do tonight, but you go ahead. Have one for me.”

“You’re all work and no play, Chief!” One of the younger guys throws up his hands in mock surrender. “One of these days, we’ll actually get you out with us.”

“Maybe next time. You guys go. I’ll finish up here.”

Once they’re gone, the station quiets down, and I’m left alone with just the echo of my own movements. Washing and storing the rest of the equipment goes quickly—I’ve done it often enough I could do it in my sleep.

My thoughts drift to Granny Sloane and the casserole I left for her, with instructions to heat it in the oven. My mom and siblings are supposed to join her for dinner, so she won’t be alone. I’m not the best cook, but I learned a handful of dishes since moving in with Granny Sloane a few years back. Apparently some of it is even edible.

The boys used to give me shit sometimes about living with my grandmother, right next door to the rest of my family, but they all get it now, especially when she had the stroke a few months back. Just the memory of finding Granny Sloane in the kitchen that day sends tension shooting through me.

She was slumped over her beloved crossword in the kitchen, pen loose in her hand, a stillness about her that immediately set off alarms in my mind. Calling her name, the silence jarring with no response, one side of her face dropping. Antonio was the paramedic on duty, and he’d looked as sick as I felt as we rushed her to the hospital, sirens blaring.

That day changed everything, and no one’s said a word about me living with her since. Not that their opinion would change anything. Fear of it happening again haunts me, reinforcing why I need to be close. For Granny Sloane and the rest of my family, I’m all they’ve got. Living with her, and next door to the others, isn’t just a convenience—it’s a necessity.

Finally done with the equipment, I lean against the cool metal of the truck and stretch out my back with a grimace. The knots in my shoulders ache. Rolling my shoulders, trying to ease the tension. Eyes close for a few seconds. Then I’m locking up, stepping outside and taking a deep breath of the cooling evening air.

Heading toward my car, the dwindling light catches on the metallic gleam of Antonio’s pickup parked a little way down the road. I thought Antonio had already left with the others. He’s more than just a firefighter—he’s a trained paramedic who volunteers with us when he isn’t on duty, and one of my oldest friends.

He steps out from the driver’s side and leans casually against his truck, the setting sun highlighting the warm tones of his skin. Antonio has this way of keeping his cool no matter what, a trait that’s been severely tested by everything he and his family have been through. Yet somehow he always has a smile on his face. He’s one of the best people I know.

“Thought you’d gone with the others?”

Antonio shakes his head, a smile on his lips as we stand face-to-face on the sidewalk. An unfamiliar couple walks past, arms around one another, talking in the low, intimate voices of two people totally wrapped up in one another, like the rest of the world has ceased to exist.

“Nah, I need to get back home soon.” He watches the couple for a few seconds. “A night at Lighthouse Bar never ends early. Mom’s got salsa class tonight, and I told her I’d be there to watch Juan.”

Thinking about Juan, I nod—he’s Antonio’s younger brother and a car accident when he was a kid left him disabled. “He’s a good kid.” And it’s true. Juan is a regular ray of sunshine.

“He’s the best,” Antonio agrees with a proud nod. “And hey, I’m glad you finally got your ass out of that station. We’ve still got time for a quick drink at the Tavern.”

I start to shake my head, about to refuse, but Antonio cuts me off. “Come on, it’s just half an hour. Don’t keep arguing, or we’ll miss happy hour entirely.”

Knowing there’s little point in resisting when Antonio sets his mind to something, I grimace. “Alright, half an hour. But that’s it. I still have stuff I need to deal with at home.”

“Your side hustle?”

He means my work as a fire safety consultant, which I had to take on to make some extra money. “Yeah.” The side hustle and everything else I’ve got going on right now. Stifling a yawn, balled fists rub my eyes.

“Come on, man, you’re not dead yet.” Grinning, Antonio smacks me on the shoulder, and we walk together across the road, making our way onto the boardwalk, the salty sea air cooling as the night darkens.

The boardwalk is quieter in the evening, the sounds of the day giving way to the rhythmic lapping of the water against the sea wall. We wave to the guy who runs the ice cream stand—he’s packing up, folding away the A-frame sign. A moment later, his lights go off.

As we walk, the tension of the day’s efforts begin to ebb slightly, eased by Antonio’s company and the promise of a cold one at our local haunt. We get closer to the Tidal Tavern, and the rhythmic beat of music spills out onto the boardwalk, blending with the sounds of laughter and raised voices. It’s only Monday, but the Tavern is a magnet for both locals and tourists, drawing a lively crowd no matter the day.

The single-story building comes into view, its rooftop terrace offering a sweet view of the marina where boats bob gently under the fading twilight. My heart rate ratchets up a little as we push through the door, the sudden barrage of stimuli hitting me all at once.

Everything inside is loud, dark, and ripe with the promise of sex. The familiar smell of beer and loud conversations layered over the music create a backdrop that’s at once inviting and overwhelming. It’s been a long time since I cut loose and enjoyed a night out.

All around, faces light up with laughter or darken with intimate whispers, everyone carefree and unburdened, and the tiniest whisper of envy unspools in my gut, but I reel it back in, remind myself to take a breath, to let the edges of my control blur just a bit.

Glancing around the room, there’s a shift as some of the women’s eyes turn toward us. I’m not arrogant, but I’m no stranger to attention either. Next to me, Antonio, with his big smile and undeniable charm, attracts his fair share of looks, too.

At the bar, Blake Summerton spots us coming through the crowd. She’s as striking as ever with her long red hair, wide green eyes and big smile, managing the Tidal Tavern with a kind of effortless cool.

To me and the other boys, she’s like a sister, though the guys never miss a chance to drool over her, especially Ethan Carter. She laughs it off every time, but I’m pretty sure she’s sweet on Ethan, too—not that I understand the attraction, she could do way better. Besides, there’s just too much history between all of us. Too much pain we’re all still dealing with.

Antonio holds up two fingers to Blake, and with a knowing nod, she pulls two beers from the tap. Our usuals are ready by the time we reach the bar, and she slides them over with her normal flair.

“On your tabs.”

Her voice barely rises over the music as she winks at us, before tossing her hair over her shoulder, two young guys perched on wooden stools at the end of the bar practically salivating at the sight of her.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” Antonio replies.

“Stay out of trouble,” she calls, already turning to serve a group of girls who are staring at Antonio and me, hips jutting out, laughing and whispering between themselves, trying to catch our attention with playful smiles.

The Tavern is bustling, and I nod at the stairs, silently suggesting we head up to the terrace for a bit more space and air. Antonio agrees, and we navigate around tables, dodging a couple making out near the foot of the stairs, and climb till we reach the terrace, where the noise fades slightly, joined by the soothing sound of the marina’s waters and the distant calls of night birds.

We find a couple of free chairs by the railing and settle down. The view here never gets old—the vast expanse of water, the silhouettes of boats, the stars beginning to peek out from the twilight. We settle in, sip our beers, and Antonio nods toward the darkening sky.

“Hurricane season’s here.” He says it casually, but there’s a worried look in his eye.

“Yeah, we better get the boys together soon, go over the plans, make sure everyone’s on the same page.”

“Speak of the devil,” Antonio suddenly grins, lifting his glass in a salute across the terrace.

Following his gaze, I spot Ethan, one of the core members of the Valiant Hearts and the possible subject of Blake’s affection. We—me and the boys —set up the Valiant Hearts a couple of years ago in memory of our friend Danny. It’s a volunteer disaster relief group, and we help wherever we’re needed.

Danny . Just thinking his name makes me feel all kinds of uncomfortable. Guilt piled on regret piled on more guilt. I’d do anything to turn back time, to be the one in that fire. I take another long drink of my beer. Wasn’t tonight supposed to be about relaxing for a little while?

True to form, Ethan is deep in conversation with two beautiful women. No doubt he’s planning to take them both home. With his easy smile and easier charm, he’s always been a playboy.

We’ve known each other since elementary school, and as far as I’m concerned he can do whatever the hell he wants in his own time—I just wish he’d stay as far away as possible from my little brother, who dropped out of college and has been helping Ethan out on his charter cruises instead of getting a real job.

Ethan’s been filling his head with stupid ideas and I don’t like the two of them together. But while there’s often no love lost between me and Ethan, the history we share binds us, almost as thick as blood.

Antonio seems to read the shift in my thoughts. “You seen much of Ethan lately?”

My grip tightens on the beer, the cool glass pressing into my palm. “Not really. I’d ask him to join us, but it looks like he’s got his evening planned out already. Only fella I know who can convince two girls to go home with him and make them both think it was their idea.”

Antonio gives me a rueful grin. “But you know, underneath all that, he comes through when it counts.”

“Yeah. When it counts.” Although I don’t quite have Antonio’s confidence in Ethan.

“Heard anything about Danny’s dad lately?” His tone is casual but his eyes are sharp as he stares at me. “I heard he was doing a little better.”

A flicker of discomfort passes through me. I hate keeping things from Antonio. “No, not recently.” The lie is smooth, my voice even. I’m not ready to dive into that conversation, not here, not now.

I drain the last of my beer and glance at my watch. Antonio mirrors my actions.

“We better go?—”

“Gotta go?—”

We laugh at one another and shake our heads. Maybe Ethan’s got more figured out than we give him credit for. He raises his glass to us as we thread back across the terrace on our way to our respective homes.