When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

28. Patrick

Chapter 28

Patrick

W e’re running down the path to Granny Sloane’s house, the outer bands of Hurricane Karen dumping water on us in relentless sheets. The wind howls, and rain slashes at our faces, but I’m grinning like a fool. Suddenly, Emmy stops, and I’m almost running into her.

“What is it?” I shout over the roar of the storm.

“I heard something.” She turns to face me, the wide of her eyes reflecting the crazed skies overhead. She drags a sleeve over her face, drying eyes which are immediately re-wet, her pouty mouth set in a determined line.

“It was probably just the wind. We need to get inside.” I glance at the safety of the house just a few yards away.

But she shakes her head, turning back toward whatever she heard, stepping through the soaking, muddied lawn looking for… something. Without hesitation, I follow her, an inexplicable pull, a realization I’d follow her anywhere .

We move through the rain and barreling gusts of wind, searching Granny Sloane’s garden on a fool’s errand. The violent shake of trees overhead, leaves rattling like metal chains. Then I hear it too—a low, pitiful whimpering coming from the bushes between Granny Sloane’s house and my mom’s.

Emmy kneels down, mud pooling around her jeans, her bare feet pale pink, peering into the dense foliage. “It’s okay, little one,” she says, reaching into the bushes. She pulls out a small, soaked, and terrified dog with huge brown eyes, shivering uncontrollably.

She cradles the dog to her chest, her face full of tenderness. “We’ve got you.”

My heart twists at the sight.

“Let’s get inside,” I say, looping an arm around her shoulders, trying in vain to shield her and the dog from the incessant rioting of the storm.

We make our way onto the porch where there’s no respite, the wind blowing the rain sideways, the lash of it hitting every part of us. I help her shrug off my sodden jacket, wringing it out, water puddling on the already puddled porch. My fingers are numb from the cold and wet, but I get the key in the door, manage to unlock it.

We step over the sandbags and into the front entryway, the warmth of the house a welcome relief. The hall light goes on and Emmy stands there, dripping on the floor, holding the dog tight to her chest.

“I think we need towels,” she says.

“I’ll get some towels.” Sodden boots are pulled off, wet socks leaving a trail of footprints that I make a mental note to clean as I head to the closet, returning to Emmy and the dog a few moments later.

I hand her a towel and our eyes meet. Her face is covered in rainwater, droplets clinging to her lashes and cheeks, honey-blonde hair plastered against her head, darkened and slicked back. But even drenched, it frames her pretty face perfectly.

She’s so beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes my chest ache and my breath catch. There’s a light in her eyes that draws me in, pulling me out of the dark, a warmth in her smile that seems to cut through everything else, making me forget.

She wraps up the dog first, bundling him until there’s just a little face visible beneath the folds of the white towel, a small brown nose, big eyes. He’s still shaking, and outside, Karen is battering the street, hammers pounding the road with countless steel drops.

I put a towel around her shoulders. “Let’s warm up this little guy and get out of these wet clothes.”

“Is Granny Sloane asleep? We should be quiet,” Emmy replies, and we both listen for a beat. There’s no sound coming from the darkened house. Only the rage of the storm as it comes for us.

Emmy carries the little dog to her room, cradling it gently against her chest. The poor thing is still shivering, but it looks a lot more secure in her arms. I follow her, dripping water with every step. The storm outside is relentless, the wind howling and rain battering the windows, but in here, there’s a strange sense of calm.

She sets the dog down on a soft blanket on her bed, and we both start to shrug out of our wet clothes. I peel off my soaked shirt and pants, feeling the chill in the air, but it’s nothing next to Emmy’s smile as she struggles out of her drenched sweater and jeans.

Seeing her wearing just wet panties and a lacy bra, I’m getting hard all over again. Crossing the room in just a few strides, I pull her to me, capturing her mouth, running my hands down the smooth of her back, her curves pressed breathlessly against the heat of my skin.

She kisses me back, leaning into me, before putting both hands on my chest and playfully pushing me away.

“Hey, we’ve got an audience. I don’t want to traumatize him any more than he already is.”

But I don’t let go. Instead, my arms cage her, my insatiable gaze roaming the planes of her face. There’s an exquisite pain. I’m looking directly at the sun after a long winter, feeling the heat and bright of it, even though it hurts.

Things are shifting inside me, the broken bits rattling like they might someday come together. She looks at me with a tenderness I don’t deserve, and I just want to hold her and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist, that there’s nothing but this room, this moment.

“Well, that was a hell of a way to end the night.” She ducks away from me, laughing as she pulls on a dry T-shirt and some cozy sweatpants. Her hair is still wet, strands clinging to her face.

“Yeah, nothing like a hurricane to make a beach party memorable.” I grin as I walk to my room to pull on some dry clothes, before returning to her. “Who knew we’d end up saving a little guy like him tonight?”

I nod toward the dog, who’s starting to look a bit more comfortable on the bed. Emmy slowly unwraps him and grabs a fresh towel, gently rubbing the dog dry. He’s scruffy, light brown with white paws, painfully thin and not wearing a collar—probably a stray.

“He’s adorable, isn’t he?” Emmy kisses him right on the nose. “I think he needs a name.”

“How about Karen?” I suggest, raising an eyebrow.

She laughs. “Let’s think of something more fitting for a cute little boy.”

A gust of wind rattles the plywood nailed over the windows. “Stormy?”

“Stormy it is.” She finishes drying the dog off, and then we both head to the kitchen to get him some food, Emmy carrying the dog under her arm. She sets him down on one of the chairs and he promptly curls up, his head resting on his paws, watching us.

“How about this?” I hold up a can of tuna.

Emmy wrinkles her nose. “What about this chicken?” She pulls out a container of leftover chicken from the fridge.

“Chicken it is. Only the best for our little hurricane rescue.”

“Speaking of the best,” she teases, “you were pretty heroic out there, Mr. Fire Chief.”

“Just doing my job. Besides, you were the one who insisted on finding him. Guess you’re the real hero here.”

“Maybe we’re both heroes,” she says, nudging me with her elbow as she fills a small container with water. “A dynamic duo.”

“So, what should we name our hero team?”

She pretends to think, tapping her chin with a finger. “How about The Storm Chasers ?”

“I like it. Storm Chasers it is.”

We set the bowl of chicken and container of water down for Stormy, watching as he eagerly devours the food. Then Emmy leans against the counter, gaze on me, and I could live on that look alone, forever. Then I’m in front of her, arms bracketing her as I lean against the counter, and she tilts her head back to look at me.

Our eyes meet, and there’s a moment of silence. I reach out, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. Her skin is warm under my fingers, and she leans into my touch, her eyes closing briefly before opening again.

“Emmy, I...”

She smiles, the hazel of her eyes searching mine.

“Patrick.” Her voice is soft, like she understands my need, the way I’m falling… like maybe she feels the same way. “I don’t know what this is, but I don’t want it to end. I want everything to stay just like it is right now. Being with you, even like this, in secret, feels right.”

Cupping her face in my hands and pressing my lips to hers. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but then it deepens. Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer, and for a moment, the hurricane bearing down on us doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. It’s just the two of us, standing in the kitchen, kissing.

It’s a kiss that makes the rest of the world fade away. Time seems to stop, each second stretching into eternity, and in that moment, it’s as if the universe has broken apart and reformed around us until we’re at the very center of it all.

It’s a kiss that speaks of secrets, of promises and unspoken words, of desires and emotions too deep to be expressed any other way.

We settle Stormy on a blanket in Emmy’s room, and I lead her by the hand to mine, undressing her slowly, carefully. My mouth explores every square inch of her, then I’m inside her again, and we’re moving together like two parts of a whole.

With each thrust, each gasp, our movements become more synchronized, more intense. Her skin slides against mine, heat and friction building with each movement, until we’re lost in each other.

Until we’re all there is.