When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

38. Patrick

Chapter 38

Patrick

W e continue walking, the path strewn with smaller pieces of debris, the occasional streetlight flickering as if unsure whether to stay on or surrender to the damaged electrical network. Stormy is having a field day, burying his nose in every piece of decomposing garbage we pass.

“Has Liam been home today?” I ask, not really wanting to bring him up.

“He hasn’t been in all day. Your mom said he was working.”

Fingers of tension push on my temples. “Look, if you see him tomorrow, can you keep an eye on him? Tell him I need to speak to him. Don’t be shy about telling him I’m pissed.”

Emmy looks uncomfortable, her brow furrowing, but she nods. The street is eerily quiet, other than the occasional gust of wind, and a corresponding rustle of leaves and detritus.

“Sorry to put you in the middle of this.” I squeeze her hand gently. “I would ask Nora, but I don’t want it to get back to my mom what he and Ethan have been up to.”

Her eyes fill with understanding. “I get it. I’ll do what I can.”

We walk in silence for a few beats. The streets are deserted, many houses still dark and lifeless. Joe Heart moved back home yesterday, but there are still a decent number of people at the evacuation centers, waiting for someone to help return their homes to a livable condition. But for once, I’m not even going to think about it. Tonight is about Emmy.

Giving her hand a gentle tug, we veer off toward the fire station. “Come on. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? What is it?”

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.” I wink at her, loving the high-wattage grin she flashes back.

We reach the fire station, and I unlock the door, leading her inside so we’re standing beside the red bulk of one of the fire trucks. The space is dimly lit, and I pull out a blanket from the storage cupboard and lay it on the ground for Stormy.

“Sit, boy,” I say, unleashing him. He gives me a dubious look but settles on the blanket, eyes locked on us as we walk around the truck.

“What are we doing here?” She looks bemused.

“You’ll see.”

I guide her to the back of the station, where I’ve set up a small, cozy corner with a couple of chairs and a table. On the table is a thermos of hot chocolate, a candle I took from the supply cupboard, and a plate of freshly baked cookies, courtesy of Alex from the bakery.

“Wow,” Emmy says, her eyes widening in surprise. “This is...”

“It’s the best I can do for a romantic date,” I reply. “You deserve so much more, but while we’re keeping this secret, this is about all I can manage.”

She smiles, shaking her head. “Patrick, this is amazing. Thank you.”

We sit down and I light the candle, the warm flicker brightening the green in her eyes as we sip hot chocolate and eat the cookies, chatting about our days like this is the most normal thing in the world. Once we’re done, my gaze settles on her and I pat my lap.

“Come over here, babe. Let me show you how much I missed you today.”

She stands and takes a couple of steps before she straddles me, her hands reaching up, teasing through my hair. She’s wearing yoga pants and a thick sweater, her hair tied back in a ponytail, soft, escaped waves framing her face, and she’s never looked more beautiful.

I run my hands up the fluid silk of her pants before cupping the firm curves of her perfect ass, then lean forward, my mouth meeting hers. Like it always does with us, we go from zero to a hundred in a second, the heat ramping up as our need for one another takes over.

I’m hard between her legs, and she shifts her hips slightly up and down, rubbing herself against the length of me as we kiss slowly and deeply. My mouth trails a path of desire from her lips to her neck, tasting the slight saltiness of her skin—the flavor of raw, unquenchable need.

Her hands skim over my torso possessively, fingers digging into the firm muscle of my chest as if she’s trying to anchor herself, but the moan in the back of her throat lets me know she’s already flying high. When we’re together, we both soar, leaving the whole world behind us.

“Arms up,” I say into the graceful line of her neck, and she obliges.

Leaning back in the chair so her weight is right on my cock, I pull her sweater and T-shirt off over her head. She’s not wearing a bra, and the perfect roundness of her breasts stares back at me, her nipples hard before I even touch her.

I drink in the sight, taking my time exploring every inch of her beautiful body with my gaze. Leaning forward, bringing my mouth to one breast, closing my eyes as she arches her back, thrusting her hard nipple into the wet of my mouth. I flick it with my tongue, then suck it, greedy, Emmy’s soft moans filling the fire station as her hands dive through the scruff of my hair, the tease and tug of her fingers letting me know she needs more.

My reluctant mouth releases her. Both hands move to her hips, lifting her until she stands in front of me, then my thumbs hook the waistband of her yoga pants, pushing them down her hips slowly, enjoying the feel of her skin, the slide of the material as it glides down her legs, pools on the floor. I slide a hand between her legs, one finger teasing, gliding across her opening, groaning when I feel how wet she is, fighting the need to be inside of her right now .

I’m still sitting on the seat, so rock hard I’m about to burst out of my pants, and my mouth goes to her breasts again, while my hands move up her thighs, sliding one finger inside, then another. Pulling her onto my lap again, taking her mouth with mine. The kiss deepens, my fingers inside her, stroking and thrusting, until Emmy pulls away, breathless.

“I want you inside me, Patrick,” she whispers hoarsely. “Right here, right now.”

“I want to taste you first,” I say, raw need in my voice. I stand and lift her, bare legs wrapping around me, and I walk to the fire truck, our greedy mouths lashing against one another. I shift her weight onto one arm, bicep flexing, and pull open the rear passenger door with my free hand, the interior light switching on.

Gently, I lay her down on the padded bench seat. She looks incredible in the light of the truck—all tanned skin and soft curves framed by the hard red lines of the vehicle. I trace the soft slickness of her opening with one finger, and she gasps. She’s warm and wet, ready for me as I slide two fingers into her, easing them in slowly, enjoying the way her eyes close and her rosebud mouth opens.

I lean over her, claiming her lips, my fingers still inside her, before I trail kisses all over her jawline and down the side of her throat, fingers stroking and teasing. The graveled heat of my breath skates against her earlobe as I whisper, “I’ve missed you.”

We both take a moment to breathe each other in, before I move down to capture one pebbled nipple between my lips, sucking hard while my fingers start teasing her clit. She moans out my name, grabbing hold of the edge of the seat, pale moon fingernails pressed into the black leather.

I whisper against her skin, “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” before moving my way down the smooth curve of her stomach. My mouth skims her wet pussy and she’s pushing toward me, fingers digging into the seat, but I want to take my time, savor her.

My lips and tongue trace the inside of her thigh and she flinches ever so slightly as my mouth moves over the scars from the surgery she had. Pulling back, my thumb moves to the skin just below her pussy, tracing the row of neat white scars, my hand holding her legs open as she tries to squeeze them shut. It’s the first time I’ve seen them in the light, and it doesn’t look like any kind of surgery scar I’ve ever seen.

“What happened here? You said it was a surgery, but it doesn’t look like that.”

“Let go of me,” she replies, and I release her, legs snapping closed, one arm going across her breasts.

“Emmy, are you okay? Did someone hurt you?” My protective instincts have taken over, muscles in my back, my arms, tensing.

She stiffens, not meeting my eye. “Let’s not talk about this.”

“Emmy, look at me.” She finally meets my gaze and I see it now, the shame, and I know . I reach for her hand but she pulls away, sitting up and sliding out of the truck, heading for the table where her clothes are piled on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” My voice is tight. “It’s just, if you want to talk about it, we can. There’s no judgment from me.”

“Well, I don’t,” Emmy says as she hurriedly pulls on her yoga pants and T-shirt.

A knot forms in my stomach, knowing I’ve touched on something painful for her. Emmy avoids looking at me as she grabs her sweater and Stormy’s leash.

“I think we should call it a night.” She stares at me for a long time, as though wrestling with something. “Remember that this is supposed to be fun. Nothing serious. You don’t need to ask about my past or my issues.” She makes a face when she says issues , like she’s tasting something bad.

“But I want to know about your past, about you.” And it’s true. Frustration rushes through me. “You didn’t want to talk about your fiancé. You don’t want to talk about this. What do you want to talk about?”

But Emmy is already fully dressed and calling for Stormy. She attaches the leash to the dog’s collar, not even glancing back at me.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” she calls over her shoulder.

I stand there stunned, partly wishing I’d kept my mouth shut, but worried about whether she’s still hurting herself. This is something she needs to talk about if there’s going to be any kind of intimacy between us, but I just don’t know what to do next.

I clean up quickly, and the darkness outside feels heavier as I lock up the station. Emmy stands a few feet away, her back to me.

“Emmy,” I say softly, reaching out but stopping short of touching her. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I have friends who’ve dealt with this kind of thing. We all have issues. This isn’t something you need to hide from me. Are you still doing it? Do you need to talk to someone if you don’t want to talk to me?”

She turns slightly, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before she looks away. “It’s fine, Patrick. It’s in my past. Nothing to worry about. I’m not doing it anymore.” Her face twists.

“Emmy, please.”

“Just let this go.”

The walk back to the house is silent, the space between us suddenly too vast and quiet. I understand why she doesn’t want to talk about certain things: I’m the same way with my own demons. But all of a sudden, it feels like more than just a shared struggle. It seems like a problem.

This unspoken connection between us, the silent recognition of each other’s pain? Maybe it’s not enough to hold us together. There’s suddenly a nagging fear that this thing between us could fall apart before it even properly begins. As we reach the front door, I pause, searching for the right words, but they all seem wrong.

“Well, goodnight,” she says before I have the chance to speak. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She slips through the doorway, her ponytail trailing behind her like a pale river. Stormy follows close behind, his tail wagging eagerly, oblivious to the human drama playing out around him. I take a deep breath of the cool night air, hoping it will calm the burning regret in my chest. But it only seems to ignite worse than before.

This was supposed to be a casual fling, but it’s become so much more than that. I care about her so damn much. Finding out about those scars was a shock, and I hope she’s telling the truth when she says she’s not hurting herself anymore, but a part of me can’t help but worry.

When I said there’s no judgment from me, I meant it. We all have our issues, our pasts, our dark places. But now, the wedge that’s come between us is more than just a barrier; it’s a harsh, glaring light that illuminates the towering walls she’s built to protect herself.

Those walls are high and impenetrable, and I’m standing here, feeling helpless, wondering how to breach them without hurting her further. I can’t lose her. I need to reach her, somehow. Figure this out.

None of this makes sense. I’m the one who said I don’t want a relationship, but falling in love isn’t rational. And I’m nothing but a madman, crazy about Emmy in ways I never saw coming.