When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

24. Emmy

Chapter 24

Emmy

W e walk side by side to Nora’s car. All the houses in the street are boarded up, and a lot of the cars are gone—people have already evacuated to the high school or one of the churches. A sense of foreboding washes over me, but like I’ve told myself a million times, Patrick wouldn’t let Granny Sloane stay if there was a real risk she could be hurt or worse.

Nora clicks the button on her key and the rear lights flash twice on the small Honda hatchback parked under an oak painted in hues of red and gold. “I can’t believe she accepted that phone from you. Mom and I have been trying to get her a cell for years, but she always flat out refuses.”

“Must be my winning smile,” I reply as we climb into her car.

“Pageant winning.” She winks at me, and all I can do is buckle my seat belt and count slowly to ten until the cold roiling through me passes.

Nora means well, and they’re such a good family. The least I can do is keep my shit together. She starts the engine and we’re on the road, my question escaping before I can stop it.

“Do you know what was in the mail this morning? Patrick seemed really upset. ”

Nora shrugs. “Patrick’s extremely private. He hates anyone getting into his business. Whatever it was, he’ll deal with it on his own terms.”

“Sure. I was just curious.”

She glances at me sideways as the boarded-up houses pass in a blur before returning her gaze to the road. “Patrick’s not a good guy to get involved with.”

My heart skips a beat. “What? No, I’m not interested in him.” The words tumble out too quickly, and I silently curse myself. Surely we weren’t that obvious at breakfast.

“I know. You’re a smart girl. But he’s a good-looking guy, and, well, let’s just say he’s not the most emotionally available man in Harbor’s Edge. He’s broken plenty of hearts.”

“Oh.” I try to keep my tone casual, though I’m desperate for her to continue.

“It’s not his fault. He’s pretty honest about what he’s willing to give. But I know a few women who started something casual with him and ended up falling hard. He’s a complicated guy. One of the best, in my opinion—unless you’re dating him.”

The knot in my stomach tightens. Was Patrick’s happiness too much? Maybe we shared a too-long glance over the kitchen table? Although it’s possible Nora warns all her friends off, just as a matter of course.

Pushing a smile in place, a nod: “Consider your warning taken on board.”

Nora offers me a sympathetic look, the blue of her eyes so different to Patrick’s, so clear and unencumbered. “I’m just looking out for you, Emmy. Patrick’s got a lot on his plate, especially with the Valiant Hearts and his job.”

“The Valiant Hearts have a big volunteer base?” I hope my attempt to change the subject isn’t too obvious.

“They do. Patrick and the boys set up the volunteer disaster response group in honor of their friend Danny Heart, and a lot of people in town knew Danny before he died. And Danny is just another thing that eats Patrick up. It’s easy to get swept up in the idea of fixing him, trust me, I know, I’ve seen it many times. But he’s not someone you can fix. He’s working through a lot of stuff, including losing Danny, and he’s made it clear to everyone that he needs to do it alone.”

We reach Main Street, and the conversation is mercilessly cut short as Nora parks. Somehow keeping what’s between me and Patrick a secret has turned into lying to the people who care about us both, and that leaves a slightly sour feeling in my stomach.

Thankfully, Nora seems to have moved on from the subject of Patrick, and we head down Main Street on foot, everywhere alive with activity. Volunteers swarm the area, reinforcing sandbags and boarding up the last of the windows. Patrick was right, the work required to shore up the buildings facing the harbor is almost done.

As we join Ruby, Liam, and the other volunteers at the gallery, I glance around, searching for Patrick, spotting him farther down the street working on sandbagging the Tidal Tavern. A gorgeous woman with fiery red hair works beside him, my gaze lingering on the two of them for a moment. But I’m not the jealous type, and Patrick and I aren’t even dating, right?

“Let’s get to work.” Ruby hands me a shovel. “We need to increase the height of the sandbags by another two rows, just to be sure.”

Falling into the rhythm of the task, there’s a sense of camaraderie as the sun rises higher in the sky, even as a chilled wind rushes past us. Someone dumped a pile of sand in front of the gallery, and we keep working, shovels digging into the pile, filling sandbag after sandbag, and soon the job is done.

Something inside the gallery catches my eye, and I lean over the sandbags, spotting the large glass sculpture. It twists and turns in hues of blue and green, with translucent and white sections, resembling the ocean itself, a wave perpetually breaking and reforming. The intricate details and fluid motion captured in the glass are beautiful.

“We couldn’t move it,” Ruby says, shaking her head. “It took a lot of work to get it in there in the first place. I just have to hope it survives somehow.”

We both glance out over the harbor where ominous dark clouds are forming in the distance. The water is eerily calm, a deceptive stillness that hides the fact of the approaching storm.

“Good job, everyone.” Ruby turns to those who came to help. “Thank you so much. Let’s hope it’s enough.”

We exchange tired smiles and nods, packing up our shovels and what’s left of the empty sacks. My gaze strays to Patrick where he’s chatting to the group working at the Tidal Tavern, and I’m about to head over there when the mayor waves her hands above her head in the middle of the street, just ten yards away.

“Hello, can I have your attention, please?”

Mayor Roberts climbs onto a wooden crate someone sets beside her, her auburn curls catching the noon sunlight. She raises her hands again to get everyone’s attention, and gradually, the murmurs and clatter die down, people drawing closer.

“Thank you all for your incredible efforts. We’ve made tremendous progress in the last few days, and the harbor facing homes and businesses are all as protected as we can make them. It’s heartening to see our community come together like this, and a special thanks goes out to the Valiant Hearts and all of their volunteers.”

People break into spontaneous applause, several clapping Patrick on the back. He shakes his head, waving them away.

“If you have any time today and you’ve already taken care of your own home, see if any neighbors need help shuttering windows or sandbagging doors.” She pauses, looking around at the sea of faces.

“But I need to remind everyone—especially those in the storm surge zone—to please evacuate. I know it’s hard to leave your homes, but if things are worse than expected, emergency services might not be able to reach you. Your safety is our priority.”

A hush falls over the crowd.

“I’m not a religious person, but I believe in the power of community and the strength we draw from one another. I invite you all to come together in prayer—whether you pray to God, the universe, Mother Nature, or simply hope for the best. Let’s ask for protection for our town, for our homes, and for each other.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then, one by one, people begin to bow their heads. Some clasp their hands, others simply close their eyes. Mayor Roberts bows her head too, her voice softening as she continues.

“Let’s pray for strength, for courage, and for the safety of everyone in Harbor’s Edge. Hurricane Karen is coming for us, but we’re a strong and united town, and we will get through this.”

The atmosphere becomes charged with a sense of collective hope, a shared plea for mercy from the approaching storm. I glance around, seeing worry but also determination to face what’s coming.

Mayor Roberts steps down from the crate, her eyes shiny. “Thank you, everyone. Stay safe, take care of each other, and we’ll get through this together. Make sure you look out for any updates. I’ll be sending out text messages and emails through the night and early tomorrow once we have more details on where Karen’s going to make landfall.”

The crowd begins to disperse, and Nora touches my arm before I can look for Patrick. “We’re going to see if anyone else needs help before we head home. Are you ready?”

The fluttering in my stomach and the ache in my core want me to find him, but it’s probably better I don’t see him, right? I doubt I can hide how I’m feeling with a bunch of people around. “Sure. I’m ready.”

A cheeky look takes over her pretty face. “And then tonight, we’re meeting some friends for a pre-storm party. ”

“A party?”

“Just a small gathering, really,” she replies, pressing a finger to her lips.

As we get back into the car, the street around us buzzes as people head off to tend to last-minute preparations, everyone doing their part to face the storm together. Nora starts the engine, chatting about the gathering tonight, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Patrick, the heat of his body as he thrust himself inside me last night, the way I want him again, now .

And then there’s the warning Nora gave me. Too bad I’m already in too deep, because it wouldn’t matter if Patrick himself told me that being with him was a bad idea: when we’re together, the need to touch him, to be with him, is too strong.

We both want one another, and we’re two single, consenting adults. As long as we can both keep this a secret, it will all be fine. Right?

Besides, it’s nothing serious. Just fun.