When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

41. Emmy

Chapter 41

Emmy

I t’s the end of the night, the dishes are all put away and the projector packed up. I’m assisting Granny Sloane to bed after helping her take her meds, and she smiles up at me, her eyes full of emotion.

“Thank you for being here tonight, Emmy,” she says as she sits on the side of the bed, squeezing my hand with surprising strength. “It means a lot to me that you were here tonight for Paddy’s dinner. You’re fast becoming one of us, and we’re all so glad you’re here.”

And it’s clear she really means it. The unfamiliar sensation of being wanted and valued makes me smile.

“It’s my pleasure, Granny Sloane. I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Sleep well.”

She nods, settling onto her pillows as I quietly close the door behind me. Walking down the hallway away from her room, this place has really started to feel like home. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere before, and now, with the O’Connors, in Harbor’s Edge, I’m starting to.

The thought is both comforting and terrifying, especially with my non-relationship with Patrick bubbling away in the background. I may be considering opening myself up to him in the way he wants, the way Kathy thinks I should, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared.

I wish so badly I could scream my past away so that I can be the kind of girl he deserves, one without so many dramas and issues. The scars he saw are the remnants of my darkest moments, etched into my skin as a permanent reminder of battles fought and lost. It’s terrifying to expose that to anyone .

I head back to the kitchen, the house dark and quiet. Ruby and the others went next door with Stormy to show Riley the damage to the house after the hurricane, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

As I approach the hallway, low voices arguing in the living room reach me. It’s Patrick and Liam, their tones tense and clipped. I pause, not wanting to intrude, but unable to stop myself from listening.

“It’s unethical, Liam,” Patrick says, his voice tight with anger. “Taking people out to look at ruined houses is exploiting other people’s tragedy. And can you imagine how this looks for me? I’m the fire chief… and my own brother is out there parading tourists past people who have lost everything. I need this job, Liam. The mayor has put a lot of trust in me. And you need to go back to college and stop going along with every foolish plan that Ethan comes up with.”

“It’s all part of our business plan, Patrick,” Liam tries to explain, frustration lacing his words. “We’re gathering clients who will be interested in our skydiving venture. It’s not like we’re doing anything illegal. But our clients are going to be thrill-seekers by nature. They want something different from what the other tour groups are offering.”

Patrick’s voice drops, heavy with disappointment. “You’re a fool, Liam. And it’s not just the tragedy porn you’re serving up by taking people out to see the hurricane damage. How can you go freediving after what happened to Dad?”

“How do you know about that?”

“It doesn’t matter. People are talking. You know what it’s like here. Do you have any idea how that would make mom feel when she finds out? And she will find out. Dot McLellan or one of the other Chatty Cathies is going to tell her.”

“You’re not my dad, Patrick. Please mind your own business for once. And for the record, you don’t know everything.”

“I know enough! You need to grow up, Liam. Or are you just going to pretend you’re a little kid for the rest of your life? A regular old Peter Pan who everyone else has to be responsible for?”

Liam’s response is sharp, a mix of anger and pain. “You’re just bitter because you never got to live out your own dreams, Patrick. You gave up everything because you had to look out for us, you started working straight out of high school to help Mom out. And now you can’t stand to see me trying to build something for myself. Actually living a life I want , not a life I’m trapped in.”

The words hang in the air, the truth of them lingering long after they’ve been said. There’s a moment of tense silence before footsteps, a door slamming as Liam storms out.

I should go to Patrick, try to offer some comfort, but he’s so private, he would hate that I overheard their conversation, hate that I heard the words Liam said, the clear truth ringing so loudly in them, so I head to the bathroom instead to get ready for bed.

Once the door is closed, I put my hands on either side of the sink, staring at my reflection but not really seeing myself at all, processing what I just heard. Both brothers have a point, but they can’t lower their weapons long enough to see it.

Patrick is right about the boat trips; it’s not a great idea to exploit people’s suffering for profit, especially when the wounds are still so raw. And the fact he’s the fire chief means he has a reputation that people trust.

But his delivery leaves a lot to be desired. He’s so rigid, so unforgiving in his approach to his brother. And besides, it’s human nature to look for disaster, to be interested in things like this. It’s no wonder Liam feels defensive and misunderstood.

He’s also right about Patrick probably feeling resentful and maybe even a bit jealous. Patrick has shouldered so much responsibility since their father died, and now he’s struggling under the weight of it all. He had to grow up too fast to take care of his family. Meanwhile, Liam’s been able to live life on his own terms, making choices Patrick could never afford to.

The two brothers would have been so close at one point, just like Maddy and me. Our relationship is fractured, torn apart by betrayal and a long simmering rivalry cultivated by our parents. I know what it’s like to hurt and be hurt by the people you’re supposed to be closest to. Both brothers must be feeling that pain, the sting of words spoken in anger, the regret that follows.

Patrick’s sense of duty is one of the things I love about him, but it can also be suffocating. I see how he’s become so tightly wound, carrying everyone’s burdens as his own. And Liam, trying to carve out a life for himself, must feel constantly judged and found wanting.

It’s a vicious cycle, and I don’t know how to break it for them any more than I can fix things with Maddy. I want to help them, to somehow bridge the gap between them, but I’m not sure how.

I’ve only been a part of their lives for a short while, and already the dynamics are so complicated. If only I could help Patrick somehow. The weight of responsibility he carries is immense, and I wish I could lighten that load, even just a little.

The not serious and just fun can only take us so far.

I replay my conversation with Kathy in my mind for the hundredth time, her words echoing through my thoughts: my feelings are valid. I can be mad. I deserve to let someone in. I’m not sure I fully believe her—the fear of rejection and the urge to hide parts of me away have been ruling me for too long.

But Patrick has shown me nothing but care and understanding, even when he realized what my scars really were. And if I want to help him, want him to open up to me, it’s time to open up, too, because a relationship is a two way street.

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my decision settle over me, but also a sense of resolve.

It’s worth taking the risk. I’m ready to let Patrick in.

A newfound determination wraps around me, settling along the bones in my back, around my chest. Next time Patrick and I are alone together, we’ll talk about the hard things.

Taking a deep breath, I quickly wash my face and brush my teeth, before opening the bathroom door. But I stop, half in, half out, unable to take another step.

Patrick’s there, leaning against the wall outside my bedroom, waiting for me, the shadows on his face hiding the deep blue of his eyes, obscuring his expression.

He’s got a bottle of something in one hand and my jacket in the other. “We need to talk about yesterday,” he says.

Seems like he’s come to the same conclusion as me, except I thought I’d have a few more days to stew on things, probably change my mind a hundred times. Looks like there’s no time like the present.

My heart stutters on a cliff’s edge before free-diving into the acid churn of my gut. I hate that he saw my scars, hate that I let him get close enough to see. But for his sake, I have no choice but to let him in.

Because I care about him so much. When we’re together, it feels like I’m burning from the inside out, igniting parts of me I thought were long dead. And I want to help him, to mend the broken pieces, smooth them out and make them beautiful, and maybe he can do the same for me.

So even though I’m scared, I take the jacket from his outstretched hand, feeling the warmth of his touch through the fabric. Shrugging it on, slipping my boots on at the front door. Patrick watches me, his eyes filled with something I can’t quite decipher.

“What about Granny Sloane?”

“I just texted Mom. She’s going to be back in a few minutes. I told her I needed to head out and that you’ve gone for a walk.”

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

We step outside, and the night air is crisp and biting at my exposed skin, but the chill is nothing compared to the cold fear gripping my heart. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the hurricane-ravaged landscape, while the streets are quiet, the remnants of the storm evident in the debris scattered around us. Wind rustles the leaves of the trees still standing.

As we walk, the silence between us is so big. I steal a glance at Patrick, his profile perfect against the night sky: strong, stubbled jaw, the hollows under his cheekbones, the thick curl of his hair against his collar.

He’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I want so desperately to ease that burden, if only he’ll let me. But the fear of letting him in is a wild animal tearing at my rib cage, claws carving me from the inside.

My vulnerability threatens to swallow me whole, yet the desire to be there for him, to support him, is equally fierce, warring with my instinct to protect myself. And so we keep walking, me following Patrick’s lead as I prepare to bare my soul.