When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

25. Patrick

Chapter 25

Patrick

A s usual, there’s an endless list of things I need to attend to, but there’s something more important than all the rest. Up the weed-infested path to the small house, the weight of everything that’s come to pass pressing down on me, the tormenting ghosts a presence that can’t be ignored.

The dusty windows are already shuttered, and I check the sandbags stacked neatly against the doors, satisfied that the house is as well protected as it can be. But the dark swirling through me doesn’t dissipate.

Inside this house is Joe Heart, Danny’s father, a man whose life combusted because of me. A balled fist knocking on the front door, the faint echo inside.

Joe’s familiar voice calls out: “Come in.”

Pushing the door open, the scent of stale air and old memories hits me immediately. The house is a mess, as usual. Piles of newspapers and magazines are strewn about, dishes sit unwashed in the sink, and a creeping layer of dust coats every lonely surface.

It’s a stark contrast to how the place used to be when Danny’s mom was around. When Danny was here. I find Joe on the sofa, hunched over and watching hurricane updates on the TV.

He’s changed so much since it all happened, his once athletic figure now slightly overweight, with a noticeable belly protruding over the waistband of his stained sweatpants. The line of his face is sad, wrinkled, brown hair messy, flopping over his forehead.

Despite all that, he still bears a striking resemblance to Danny, with the same sharp nose and deep-set, dark eyes. His breathing is labored, a constant reminder of the advanced lung cancer eating away at him. But he manages a genuine smile for me.

“Patrick.” His voice is raspy. “Good to see you, son.”

The blade twists tighter in my chest. I hate coming here. Hate it but would never stop. Could never stop. “Hey, Joe. Are you ready to go?”

He nods, gesturing weakly to the TV. “Looks like it’s gonna be a bad one.”

“Yeah, it’s shaping up that way.” I glance around the cluttered room. “But we’ve done everything we can to protect the town. By the way, I got an approval request in the mail this morning for a new treatment plan for you.”

“I told them I didn’t want it. It’s too darn expensive.”

“It’s fine, Joe. I already signed it.”

His eyes flicker over my face. There’s so much history between us, both good and bad, innocent and completely God awful, tragic and gut wrenching. “You didn’t have to do that.”

I did have to, and he’ll never understand why, never believe that it was all my fault. The unsaid words are heavy, a monsoon downpour, pressing down on every surface of the dusty, forgotten house, aching to be released but trapped by the walls and the furniture and the clutter, and the ugly past that binds us.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” he continues. “With everything else you have going on.”

I swallow hard, the words sticking in my throat. “It’s the least I can do.”

He gives a small, knowing nod. “You were always like a son to me. Danny would be proud of the man you’ve become. ”

The darkness surges again, almost overwhelming. I look away, unable to meet his gaze. “I just wish...”

Joe cuts me off gently. “We all have our regrets. Don’t let the past eat you alive.”

I look around the cluttered living room one more time, desperate to get out of there. Danny’s ghost is everywhere I look. “I’m sorry to rush you, but we should get you to the evacuation center.”

Joe nods, though the effort seems to take everything he’s got. “Alright. Just let me grab my bag.”

I move to help, scanning the room for his duffel and seeing it on the table. It’s old and worn, and feels too light when I pick it up.

“What about your meds?”

“It’s all in there.” Joe slowly rises from the sofa, and I support him as he shuffles toward the door.

“We’ll be there soon. Hopefully you won’t need to stay for too long.”

We step outside into the cold air. The sky is growing darker, the storm clouds gathering overhead, the wind growing noticeably stronger. I help him into my car, making sure he’s comfortable before I climb in and start the engine.

The drive is quiet. Joe stares out the window, lost in thought until we pull up to the high school, where volunteers are already bustling around, directing evacuees and organizing supplies. I park the car and help Joe out.

The fading light of the overcast sky softens the high school’s red-brick facade, the wide double doors propped open to welcome those seeking shelter. Inside, the gymnasium has been transformed into a bustling evacuation center. Rows of cots line the walls, each one topped with neatly folded blankets and a pillow.

I spot several guys from my crew and wave. They’re talking to a handful of local law enforcement, comparing information on clipboards, while volunteers move around them, distributing supplies and directing families to their designated areas. The sheriff, Kyle Donovan, stands near the entrance, silver mustache twitching as he speaks with calm authority, his voice carrying over the low hum of anxious conversations.

A volunteer approaches us, her face kind. “Welcome to the evacuation center. We’ll get you checked in and settled right away.”

“Thank you,” Joe says.

I hand the volunteer Joe’s bag and give her a brief rundown of his medical needs. Before he goes, Joe turns to me, his gaze clear and steady. “You take care of yourself. And thank you. For everything.”

“You too. I’ll be back to check on you once the storm passes. Probably late afternoon tomorrow if the roads are clear.” It’s a relief to finally say goodbye, although it does little to tamp down the guilt and grief sitting like twin stones in my gut.

Several of the Valiant Hearts catch my eye as I walk through the evacuation center: Jake handing out bottled water and blankets, while Mike is helping an elderly couple settle into their cots. Jake’s daughter is staying with his ex for the next few days—she lives on the outskirts of town out of the flood zone.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the high school in deepening shadows, I attend to the last-minute preparations the mayor tasked me with. Double-checking the emergency generators, making sure they’re ready to go, and coordinating with Sheriff Donovan and my crew on the action plan for tomorrow. The storm should hit early, the worst of the wind gusts over just after noon.

By the time I grab my two-way radio, the sky is dark, the storm’s pulsing movements on the horizon twisting closer. Taking a minute to stand outside the high school overlooking the busy parking lot—a moment to myself, away from the constant buzz of activity and the relentless worry etched on everyone’s faces.

More evacuees are turning up, but there will be others like Granny Sloane who insisted on staying home. No doubt there will be emergency call outs tomorrow, and in hindsight I’m glad Emmy is staying with us, so Granny Sloane won’t be alone if I have to leave.

The wind has picked up, swirling around me with an unsettling energy, a prelude to the storm that’s coming. Leaning against the side of the building, looking out at the shadowy outlines of the trees swaying in the wind, the power of the coming hurricane is both humbling and a little frightening.

The water damage is going to be the worst of it—the flooding and storm surges could devastate the lower parts of town, especially the street facing the harbor. But the winds are going to be destructive too, with strengths similar to Hurricane Sandy. At least we don’t have the full moon or high tide that coincided with Sandy… maybe the storm surges won’t be as catastrophic.

I shake my hands out. A busy day today and anticipation of what’s coming tomorrow leave me exhausted and jittery from adrenaline. My mind drifts to Emmy, to what happened last night, how good it felt to be with her. Despite everything, despite the chaos and the destruction headed our way, there’s a part of me that just wants to climb into bed with her and escape the endless churn of responsibility.

But that’s not an option for someone like me.

The wind tugs at my clothes, a reminder of the power we’re up against. Turning to head back inside and finish up, the darkened sky steals my attention once more as the first drops of rain begin to fall.