When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

26. Emmy

Chapter 26

Emmy

N ora and I reach the old lighthouse just as the sun dips below the horizon. The wind is picking up, carrying light rain, but it doesn’t dampen the spirits of the crowd gathered on the beach. Laughter and music drift through the air, mingling with the crackling of a bonfire visible on the long expanse of black that’s the sand.

The weather riots, the rushing wind with a biting chill, tearing at my clothes. Nora insisted on loaning me one of her outfits, declaring that all of my clothes were too practical and boring.

I’m wearing a snug sweater in a deep forest green, with a plunging neckline, paired with distressed skinny jeans and leather ankle boots with a spiked heel. Neither of us bothered with makeup, knowing the rain was coming, and my hair is loose around my face.

“Come on, Emmy!” Nora exclaims, grabbing my hand.

I’m grinning as we run together toward the fire. The insistent fingers of the wind pull at our hair and clothes, and I feel so alive, even if the boots make navigating the sand awkward. A group of people, some familiar, others not, surrounds the bonfire. Liam is there, sitting beside Mike, with at least a dozen others sitting on blankets facing the flames.

The tsk-tsk of the beat comes from a portable speaker, a group to the side of the bonfire already dancing, the fire casting flickering shadows that reach for them across the sand. I quickly scan the shadowed faces for Patrick, but there’s no sign of him.

“Hey, you two!” Liam calls out, waving us over.

Mike gives us a nod, his sandy blond hair tousled by the wind. He’s trimmed his beard and has a pretty girl with braids and legs for days draped across him. “Ladies. The show should start anytime now. No drinking, sorry. Patrick would probably kill us with Karen bearing down on Harbor’s Edge.”

Liam’s smile is as wide as ever. “Ready to welcome Karen to New Jersey, and show her she can’t fuck with us?”

Nora and Liam grin at one another as someone cranks up the volume. There’s a good-looking guy sitting to Liam’s left with sharp, angular features, a strong jawline, and short, curly black hair. The striking steel gray of his eyes stare at me, even though a girl in a short skirt is sitting in his lap, her hands practically dipping into his pants.

“Hey Nora, who’s your friend?” The guy takes a long drag of his vape.

“This is Emmy Brooks. She’s off limits.” Nora pokes out her tongue. “She does not need to be corrupted by a guy like you.” She turns to me and lowers her voice. “That’s Ethan Carter. Come on, let’s get settled and wait for this storm!”

The name’s familiar—I think it’s the guy Liam is working with, the one Patrick thinks is a bad influence, one of the Valiant Hearts. Nora and I exchange a quick glance before heading over to a spare blanket on the ground on the other side of the bonfire.

Once we’re settled, I take a moment to appreciate the scene—the old lighthouse standing tall and solid against the darkening sky, its windows boarded up in preparation for the storm, and the Lighthouse Bar beneath it, similarly fortified. The panoramic view of the coastline, reflecting the moonlight breaking through the cloud cover, is stunning.

We chat about Nora’s job in the mayor’s sustainability department, what it was like to grow up in a small town, and everything and nothing in between. I skirt around the edges of my past, giving her the broad strokes of my life, but avoiding the raw, ugly truth about Travis and Maddy.

My voice falters when she asks about my family, the words catching in my throat. She’s so sweet and pretty, and she’s got it all together—it really feels like we’re becoming friends, like she can see past the chaotic mess my life has become and doesn’t even care. But that doesn’t mean I want to lay it all out for her.

Soon Liam is standing over us, pulling us to our feet. We’ve both discarded our shoes and the cold sand wraps around my feet as we move to where the others are dancing. It’s nice to relax, to forget about everything in Philadelphia, and I’m sinking in the best way, the music pulsing through me as I move to the beat. Liam dances next to me, matching my rhythm with an infectious energy.

I glance over and see Nora already wrapped up in some guy’s arms, her head tilted back as she laughs open-mouthed, the crackling fire her brilliant backdrop. The wind picks up, whipping my hair around my face, light rain cold where it hits bare skin, and I turn to face it, catching a glimpse of the tumultuous waves crashing on the shore.

The storm is rolling in fast now, and the air is electric, dark clouds swirling, lining up in charged bands that pulse right alongside us, the wild energy of the night pulling us into its embrace. A tap on my shoulder and I turn to see Ethan standing there, a smile on his face.

He looks between Liam and I, one eyebrow raised. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Says the man who doesn’t dance.” Liam raises an eyebrow.

“You know I always make an exception for a pretty girl. ”

Liam shrugs, gives me another of his trademark grins, and slips away through the other dancers as Ethan takes my hand. I hesitate for just a moment, but then his other hand rests lightly on my hip, and we start to move together—he’s not the best dancer, but he’s fun and easy to be with, and he spins me around before capturing me in a well-muscled arm.

Someone gives us each a soft drink and we laugh as a couple bumps into us, Ethan’s Coke going all over his shirt. He strips it off to reveal a lean, muscled body, and discards it in the sand, like he’s impervious to the wind and rain.

Even with the hurricane getting closer, I’m surprised at how relaxed I feel, how much fun I’m having. Beside us, the bonfire rages, illuminating the silhouettes of people dancing around us. The flickering flames highlight flushed cheeks, tangled limbs as couples make out, peeling off into the darkness. All the while, dark clouds loom overhead, banding and lining up, an army preparing to unleash hell.

Salty ocean air, burning wood from the bonfire. Couples moving closer, the music getting louder. Suddenly, I sense the weight of eyes on me. I glance around until my gaze lands on Patrick. He’s standing at the edge of the firelight, and my entire world narrows.

His eyes are fixed on Ethan and me, his expression unreadable. My stomach flips, and I forget about Ethan in an instant until he tightens his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. Glancing up at Ethan’s face, he doesn’t look happy to see Patrick. At all.

Patrick crosses the sand with purpose, his eyes locked on Ethan and me. The firelight casts sharp shadows across his beautiful face, accentuating the tension in his jaw. He stops just a few feet from us, his gaze burning into Ethan.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice is low and controlled, but there’s an edge to it.

Ethan smirks, not missing a beat. “Just dancing with a pretty lady. Have you had the pleasure of meeting Nora’s friend, Emmy?” The slink of his arm is still around me, his fingers spreading wide over my hips. His eyes never leave Patrick’s.

The air between them crackles, drawing all the energy from the bonfire and the storm and redirecting it to the space between their locked gazes. They stand there, shoulders squared, eyes boring into each other, and it’s clear there is a dumpster fire of history between the two of them, which has nothing to do with me.

The moment stretches and the world around us blurs, the music and voices seeming to come from another time and place. Patrick’s jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck visibly straining as he glares at Ethan, as if he’s fighting the urge to throw a punch.

Ethan’s posture is relaxed and infuriatingly nonchalant, but the hand still around my waist ticks, betraying the intensity of the moment, making me feel like a bystander in my own life. This is not what I want. Not what I need. But I’m like a deer caught in headlights, unable to drag myself away.

Then, with a sudden, almost violent motion, Patrick extends his hand toward me. “Come on, Emmy.”

Caught in the crossfire of their silent battle, I’m grateful to Patrick for giving me an out, for diffusing the tension before it escalates. Reaching out and taking Patrick’s hand, his grip is firm, almost possessive, and he pulls me away from Ethan, from the throng of dancers, leading me into the darkness.