When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

46. Patrick

Chapter 46

Patrick

S itting in my car outside Granny Sloane’s house having just said goodbye, hands gripping the steering wheel tight, I wish I’d hugged or kissed Emmy before I left. I want to reassure her that everything she said last night, her confession or whatever she thinks that was , doesn’t change the way I feel about her.

Everyone has a past, everyone has issues, but for too long Emmy’s been made to feel like she’s an annoyance or not good enough, like she needs to dampen down every impulse to be mad about the shitty things she’s been through.

I want her to see herself through my eyes: perfect , like the entire world revolves around her, and I want her to know that life is a hell of a lot darker when she’s not around—she’s the sun, the moon, and everything in between.

More than that, I want her to know she can scream and shout and rant about anything, and I’ll be there. I’m not scared of all the thoughts and emotions bottled up behind that beautiful face.

Starting the engine. Driving through the storm-damaged streets, my mind keeps drifting back to Emmy, the way she looked at me with those vulnerable eyes in the lighthouse, the way she pulls away whenever she feels exposed, pushing up walls to keep me out.

She doesn’t see her own strength, her own worth. I want her to understand that she’s not alone, that she’s more than enough. Maybe it’s time we called an end to the secret part of our relationship. I don’t think my mom would care that we’re together, at least not in the way Emmy thinks. She loves Emmy.

And as long as I can prove to Mom that I can still take care of everything else, that my responsibilities will still be met, she won’t begrudge us being together. At least, I hope that’s the case. There’s a chance she’ll be disappointed and upset, but for Emmy’s sake, I’m willing to work through that.

I pull up to Joe Heart’s small house, my heart sinking as I take in the large oak tree felled in the front yard. No one’s been here yet to use the chainsaw on it, the bare branches still reaching out across the weed infested lawn.

I’ve been so busy that I haven’t checked on Joe for a few days. After what happened with Danny, I owe him more than just an occasional visit.

Getting out of the car, the morning air cool against my skin. I need to be there for Joe, just like I need to be there for Emmy, for Granny Sloane and the rest of my family. They call it juggling but there’s nothing funny about trying to keep all these balls in the air.

I walk up the overgrown path, side stepping a branch. Today I can start making things right on all the many fronts that need my attention. Standing in front of the paint-peeling door, fall leaves clumped in the corner of the porch, I take a moment to remember the good times with Danny.

No one has ever made me laugh like he did. Even in high school he was always teasing me about being so serious while he was hatching another scheme with the boys. He had that killer smile that hooked him Blake Summerton, the most desired girl at school, the kind of quirked smile that made everyone around him crack up no matter what else was going on.

My own lips twitch at the memory of him. Danny had this way of lighting up a room, of making the darkest days seem a little brighter with just his presence. A bit like Emmy, actually. He was fearless, always up for an adventure, always the first to dive into the unknown. He was my best friend, the brother I chose, and losing him is still a raw, open wound. I just miss him so much.

Emmy’s words come back to me, how Danny dying wasn’t my fault. People have said that to me before. Many times. Friends, family, even strangers who heard the story. They all told me the same thing: it wasn’t my fault.

But they just don’t get it. They don’t understand. The burden of knowing I should have been there, could have stopped Danny going in, is never going to leave me.

But there’s Emmy’s voice again. It keeps pushing through the noise, telling me I deserve to be happy. She’s the first one to ever make me really hear the words, and she has no reason to lie.

There’s a small part of me, a tiny flicker, that wishes she was right, and standing there on Joe’s lawn, I allow myself to entertain the possibility. Maybe I’m not the villain in this story and it was just a terrible tragedy.

It’s hard to let go of the guilt, though. It’s too ingrained, too much a part of who I am. But thinking of Emmy, of the future I want with her, there’s a glimmer of hope. With her by my side, maybe I can start to forgive myself.

She makes me want that—so I can be the best version of myself for her. She’s given me a reason to believe in something better, and I’m starting to think that I can let go of some of this pain.

Regardless, Joe is like family now, and I’d do anything for him. Coming to see him, paying for his medical expenses, it’s a way to honor Danny’s memory, and work my way toward redemption.

I knock on the door, and Joe’s weak voice calls out, “Come in.”

The house is dark and dirty, the loneliness and grief on every dusty surface, and Joe looks unwell as he sits on the sofa watching television .

“Hey, Joe,” I say. “How are you feeling?”

Joe manages a weak smile. “Same old, same old, Patrick. Just getting by.”

I go to get him some water and notice the cupboards are bare. As I order some groceries on my phone, Joe tells me more bills have arrived. The tension in my head tightens, a headache forming, but I keep a calm expression in place for Joe’s sake.

“It’ll all be okay,” I assure him, handing him the water. “I’ll take care of it.”

Joe looks at me with weary eyes. “You’re doing too much. You’ve got your own life to live.”

I shake my head. “You’re family. We look out for each other.”

Joe sips the water, his hands shaking slightly. “Thank you,” he whispers.

The gratitude in his voice makes the burden feel a little lighter, but the worry remains. I need to find a way to make things better for Joe, for everyone I care about. But there are only so many hours in the day, so much extra work I can take on.

As I sit with Joe, Emmy comes to me again. I’m worried she doesn’t really see how much she means to me, how much I want to be there for her. I thought opening up would make us closer, but she feels further away than ever.

I’m right about taking away the not serious label from our relationship. After last night, I need to tell her I’m ready to go public, to show her I’m ready to give her everything I have, everything I am. I’m going to take her out tonight and finally get through to her.

But first, I need to get through all the clean-up work scheduled for today. One step at a time. If only I could clone myself, right?