When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

29. Emmy

Chapter 29

Emmy

I wake with a start, the dark of the room and the storm’s crazed howling disorienting. Patrick walked me back to bed last night, tender lips kissing as the hurricane roared outside, then returned to his own room, so it’s just me and Stormy.

The sound outside is like the hounds of hell have been unleashed, the wind shrieking and rain hammering against the house with a fury that tightens the skin at the back of my neck. Stormy is whimpering beside me, his little body trembling.

“Shhh, it’s okay.”

I pull him closer and tuck him into the comforter, despite the wet dog smell that clings to him. Stroking his fur, his rapid heartbeat slowly begins to calm under my touch, big brown eyes looking up at me with so much trust, it almost breaks my heart.

“You’re safe here, little guy.”

Once he’s settled, I pull on a sweater over my pajamas and quietly slip out of bed, pausing briefly in Patrick’s doorway, smiling at his sleeping form, face pressed against the pillow, his sheets a tangle around his legs. He’s so unsettled at night, the opposite of peaceful, and I wish I could make the ghosts that haunt him disappear, give him one night where he’s not tossing and turning, crying out to find her .

I make my way through the dark house to Granny Sloane’s room. Her bedside lamp is on, casting yellow light over her white hair, the fine silk of it just touching her shoulders. She’s awake, her eyes wide and a little frightened.

“Hey, Granny Sloane.” I sit on the edge of her bed. “Do you need anything to help you get back to sleep?”

“No, dear. I won’t be sleeping now with this racket outside.”

I check the time. It’s 4 a.m. The hurricane is expected to peak in the next few hours. “How about we get up and make a cup of tea? Maybe that’ll help.”

She nods, and I help her into her dressing gown and get her walker. Together, we make our way to the kitchen, the storm’s fury echoing through the house. I turn on the light, fill the kettle, before turning to Granny Sloane with a smile.

“I have a surprise for you.” I head back to my room and gently pick up Stormy, carrying him into the kitchen.

“Granny Sloane, meet Stormy.”

Stormy sniffs her outstretched hand cautiously, his eyes wide and curious.

“We found this guy in the bushes by the side of your house, just as Karen was getting started.”

Granny Sloane’s face lights up, a genuine smile breaking through her worry. “Well, aren’t you a handsome little fella.” She reaches out to stroke his fur.

“He was all alone and terrified. I couldn’t leave him out there. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. I miss my little Bertie. A house isn’t a home without a dog.” Her smile is wistful, fingers gently stroking Stormy’s fur. “I wonder if someone is worried about him. Although he looks like a stray, look at all this matted fur behind his ears. Poor little boy. Did you see any collar or tags when you found him?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, once the hurricane passes we’ll need to search for his owner. The vet can scan him to see if he’s microchipped. In the meantime, there are some sausages in the fridge. My Bertie used to be partial to sausages. Do you think Stormy would like one?”

“He’s going to be better fed than any of us,” I say with a laugh, standing up to look for the sausages. “I already gave him the leftover chicken. How about I make us both a very early breakfast?”

“Make that three.” Patrick’s deep voice cuts in from behind me, and the fluttering sensation in my stomach returns with a vengeance.

He’s standing in the doorway, looking impossibly perfect, even after only a couple hours of sleep.

“I hope we didn’t wake you.” I try to keep my voice steady as I open the fridge and pull out the sausages.

“The storm woke me. Figured I’d check on you two.”

He steps into the kitchen, his presence filling the room, and suddenly I’m not sure where I fit, how to be in this space without touching him. It takes a lot to rein in my smile, to suppress the urge to kiss the softness of his lips, and wrap my arms around him.

“I’ll get these sausages going and we can all have a proper cooked breakfast.” I grab a pan from the kitchen cupboard.

Patrick stands next to Granny Sloane, a tender hand on her shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing just fine, Paddy. Emmy’s taking good care of me,” she says, patting his hand. She glances at the chair beside her, where Stormy is curled in a ball. “And Stormy here is an excellent hurricane companion. Very brave and capable.”

As if on cue, Stormy pushes his paws over his nose, letting out a low whimper barely audible over the frantic uproar outside. The howling wind rattles the windows and pounds against the walls like an angry beast, its ferocious gusts tearing through the sky and battering the pale blue of the house.

Granny Sloane leans over to comfort Stormy, just as the wind ratchets up again. Amid the roar of the hurricane, a sharp crack shatters the air, followed by a deafening crash as a tree succumbs to the power of the storm.

“That sounded close. I’m going to check on Mom and the others,” Patrick says, already heading down the hallway and reaching for a coat hanging on the hook by the front door.

I follow him, worry snaking through me. “Be careful out there.”

There’s so much more I want to say, and I hold his gaze for a beat, his moody blues ticking over my face. We both glance in the direction of the kitchen, but Granny Sloane can’t see us, and he steps closer, pinning me against the wall in the shadowed corner of the entryway.

His lips are hot and insistent against mine, calloused hands pulling me closer as he deepens the kiss, the heat of his body, all-consuming and intoxicating. Fingers tangle in my hair as we press together, and he finally pulls away, panting silently, as if he can’t get enough.

But he has to go, has to check on his family, and he pulls on the raincoat, its hood shadowing his face. “I’ll be back. I’ll be fine.”

With that, he opens the door, and the force of the wind almost rips it from his grasp. The black and wild of the world outside is framed by the doorway, the howling storm deafening, rain lashing against the walls of the house, determined to tear it apart.

The sounds of destruction and chaos fill the air, a thousand drums beating at once. But he steps outside and pulls the door shut behind him, and then he’s gone, swallowed up by the darkness.

Returning to the kitchen, Granny Sloane and I exchange worried glances, and minutes stretch into eternity, each second filled with the sound of the raging wind and the pounding rain. Being busy helps, and soon the smell of sizzling sausages fills the kitchen. Once they’re done, I place the sausages on a plate and set it on the table, along with some toast and tea.

Then the door bursts open, wind bulldozing its way down the hallway, and Patrick steps back inside, rain-soaked and grinning despite the storm.

“Got them!” he shouts over the noise, and behind him, Ruby, Nora, and Liam file in, all looking drenched and bedraggled but safe. “A tree went down and landed right on the house. I thought it was safer if they waited here with us. Everyone’s okay.”

“Thank God,” I breathe, relief flooding through me at the sight of them. I check Patrick over from head to toe with my gaze, resisting the urge to push his wet hair off his face. He looks fine, safe, and whole.

Ruby pulls off her raincoat, shaking it out and hanging it by the door. “That storm is something else. And the road and gardens are already flooded. My roof is going to need a lot of work…”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Patrick says. “I’ll deal with it.”

They all step into the kitchen, their presence somehow warming it, quieting the howl and the pound of the wind and rain, and Nora hugs Granny Sloane, who looks visibly relieved to see her family.

“We’re all okay,” Nora assures Granny Sloane, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We got the shock of our life when the tree went down, but Patrick was there almost straight away.” She stops and stares at the little dog on the seat beside Granny Sloane. “Oh, my gosh! Who is this little cutie?”

“Emmy and Patrick found him,” Granny Sloan replies, her hand moving to stroke the little dog’s head with a touch of possessiveness. “He’s named Stormy. If we can’t find an owner then I guess he’s going to stay with us.”

Liam smooths down his wet hair and grins at me. “Nice. I’ve been waiting for Granny Sloane to get another dog after Bertie died. What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”

“I’ll get more sausages going,” I say with a smile, moving back to the stove.

Stormy’s little nose is twitching in the direction of the plate of food, and Granny Sloane tears off a piece of sausage for him. “There you go, Stormy. You’re part of the family now, so mind your manners and no begging, okay?”

We eat together and Nora and Liam are about to clear the table when the power cuts, darkness replacing all the light. The sudden change is startling, and the wind gets louder still, howling against the house with an almost menacing force, swirling and thrashing with an animalistic fury. It tears at anything in its path, the shrieking of a thousand tortured souls.

“Damn,” Patrick mutters, moving quickly to the cupboard. He rummages around and produces a couple of flashlights and a camping lantern.

“Here.” He hands a flashlight to Liam and one to Ruby, and switches on the lantern, the halo of its glow casting eerie shadows on the walls.

“There’s no cell reception, either,” Nora says, checking her phone.

Patrick’s hand moves to the two-way radio on his belt. It’s been silent, so far.

We all remain around the table, the storm’s fury a constant backdrop. The wind’s intensity shakes the windows, and the occasional cracking and breaking noises make us all jump. But there’s a strange comfort in our closeness, a shared sense of determination to weather the hurricane together.

“Who’s up for a game of cards?” Liam asks, producing a deck from one of the kitchen cupboards.

“Sure, why not?” Patrick replies after a brief hesitation, his gaze flicking to Granny Sloane before replying. “We’ve got nothing but time.”

The simmering tension between the two brothers seems to be under control, at least for the moment, maybe for their grandmother’s sake.

We settle in, the cards dealt under dim light. With her face illuminated by the lantern and surrounded by her family, Granny Sloane looks more at ease than she has all night, and we continue playing as the storm outside reaches a crescendo.

The wind’s howling is almost deafening, and the cracks and breaks of branches and debris make us all flinch. But we keep playing, the cards passing between us, our laughter and banter a defiant stand against the destruction outside.

“So, who’s ready to lose?” Liam grins, shuffling the deck with a flourish for another round.

“Big talk from someone who still owes me twenty bucks from the last game,” Nora shoots back, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, please, like you’re ever going to see that money,” Ruby adds. “Your brother is worse at paying debts than you are at keeping secrets.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nora says, feigning innocence. “I keep secrets just fine.”

“Yeah, like the time you accidentally let it slip at school that Patrick had a crush on Miss Thompson,” Liam teases.

“Hey!” Patrick protests, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “That was years ago. For the record, she was a very attractive older lady, and it wasn’t a crush—it was respect for her teaching methods.”

“Respect, huh?” I say. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“You’re all a bunch of hooligans,” Granny Sloane says, turning to Stormy and stroking the top of his head. “I don’t know how I’ve put up with them all for so long.”

“We’re your favorite hooligans, admit it,” Liam says, flashing her a charming smile.

Granny Sloane holds my gaze. “You see what I have to deal with?”

“I think you secretly love it.”

“Maybe,” she concedes.

“Alright, enough chit-chat,” Ruby says, tapping the table. “Let’s see those cards. And Liam, no cheating this time. ”

“I never cheat!”

“Sure, and I’m the Queen of England,” Nora says, rolling her eyes.

Patrick sits across from me. As the game continues, our gazes meet every so often, and the unspoken connection between us feels so real, like we’re secretly tethered to one another and nothing and no one could tear us apart.

Looking around the table. This little family has welcomed me into their fold, storm and all. The togetherness of it all, the way they support and love each other in a way that’s so imperfect, it’s actually pretty darned perfect, it’s hard not to feel safe, cared for, and connected.

Gradually, the intensity of the wind begins to lessen. We continue playing cards as the light grows stronger, the rain still falling, the wind still blasting the outside of the house, but quieter.

Finally, the howling fades to a roar, and the cracking and breaking noises become less frequent. Morning light, gray and muted, creeps through the edges of the boarded-up windows, casting a pale glow in the room.

“We made it.” Patrick says quietly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looks at his watch. “The worst of it should be over now.”

Ruby stands. “I can’t take this anymore. Paddy, is it okay for us to go outside?”

“Just open the door, Mom. Take a look. Don’t go anywhere yet. Please . The winds are still strong and the rain hasn’t eased up. If there are loose branches or electrical wires, you could get hurt.”

“All right. I’ll stay on the front porch for now. Come on, let’s see how bad it is.”