When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

49. Patrick

Chapter 49

Patrick

W atching her walk away, my heart shattering with each step she takes, the weight of her words crushing me. The woman I love is leaving, and I don’t know how to stop her.

She’s soon out of sight, and my gaze shifts to the harbor: suddenly everything is gray, desolate and empty, hopeless. The world has lost all of its color and I’m lost. Broken.

Loving someone should be enough. In the fairytale version of life, it’s enough.

And I tried the fairytale route. I really did. I told her I’ll be there for her if she wants to face her parents and her sister. And I told her I love her. It’s all true. I love her so much, and it destroys me that she just left.

Should I have done more to stop her? Begged? Pleaded? Made a stronger case? I drop my head into my hands. The need to call her immediately, to talk her down and convince her to come back, is strong, but she made her feelings pretty clear, she doesn’t want me.

There’s only one logical conclusion: I’m not enough. My love doesn’t make the cut. I laid it all out there and it didn’t change a thing. I can’t fix her and I can’t fix me. Fairytale happy endings aren’t possible. Not for someone like me.

Maybe it’s some kind of divine punishment for what happened to Danny, a reminder from the universe to stop trying to do anything other than work and meet my responsibilities. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut: I never should have even tried to be happy. I never should have let myself believe I could have something good, something real.

Sinking down to the bench, still trying to process what just happened. A message alert sounds on my cell but I ignore it, until my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. Pulling it out to see Nora calling again. I can’t deal with my sister right now, and I silence the call but it starts ringing a moment later.

Answering, feeling numb. “Hey, Nora.”

“Patrick.” Her voice is tight with concern. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you. You didn’t reply to my messages. Emmy left here with her parents and sister! Something was wrong. They were awful to her, and I’m worried, to be honest. Can you try and call her? She’s not answering my calls. I sent her a text telling her we just want her to come home, hopefully she gets back to me.”

“Trust me, I’m the last person she wants to speak to.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

Other than Emmy, I can’t even remember the last time I opened up to anyone about anything important. It’s been lonely. Really lonely. I don’t know if it’s the impossible pain of Emmy leaving, or the fact that there’s nothing left to lose, but I start talking and can’t stop.

“We’ve been kind of dating, I guess. In secret. But she just ended it. None of it matters, now. I’ve done everything I can. Trust me. She just left Harbor’s Edge. I think she’s going to quit as Granny Sloane’s nurse, too.”

“Where are you?”

“On the boardwalk. But I need to get back to work.”

Nora’s voice is firm. “Stay right there.”

She terminates the call before I can protest. I don’t have time for this, but it probably makes sense to give myself a moment to get my emotions in check before going back to the station, so I settle on the bench, staring at the harbor.

The air is heavy with the salty scent of the sea, mingling with the faint aroma of fried food from nearby stalls. The water is so beautiful, and it’s impossible not to think about Emmy as the minutes elongate and stretch, how she’s turned my life upside down—the fact I’m even sitting here at all when I should be at work. How much I fucking miss her already.

I check my watch, the seconds ticking by with excruciating slowness, still waiting for Nora. Frustration, bitterness, washes through me, and it’s pretty clear: I’ve hit rock bottom.

Emmy walking away from me was the final blow and I could pretty much combust. I’ve made so many sacrifices, stuck in this endless cycle of guilt and regret. And what do I have to show for it? Nothing. No one. It’s not fair. None of it is fair.

Fury pulses out of me, rebounding off the waves, off the faces of those walking past, off the gray, churning, overcast sky. I need to get my house in order. But how can I get my fucking house in order when she’s gone?

Standing, I pace back and forth, shaking out my hands, trying to get my mind right, to focus on work, anything , but it’s hard to let go of the anger when the pain of losing Emmy is so raw and the present feels like I’m balancing on a knife’s edge.

“Patrick!”

Looking up to see Nora walking toward me, Mom just behind her, locking the car. She can see the emotion on my face no matter how hard I try to hide it.

She reaches the bench, sits and pats the space beside her. Glancing sideways at Nora as I sit down next to her, finally clamping a lid on my emotions: “Who’s with Granny Sloane?”

“She’s got the cell Emmy left her, and Stormy is with her. She insisted we both come down here and figure out how to get Emmy back. I told her and Mom you think she’s going to resign. I didn’t tell them about you both, I thought you’d want to be the one to do that.”

Looking down at the boardwalk, I swallow. A montage of memories slam into me: the way Emmy laughs, the way her eyes light up, twin pools of hazel-green that draw me in every time. The softness of her touch, the way she fits perfectly against me, like she was made to be there.

And it’s more than just physical. Emmy makes me feel alive in a way I never thought possible. She pulls me out of the monotonous grind of work and responsibility, showing me there’s more to life. With her, I’m not just going through the motions; I’m living.

She brings color to my world, makes everything brighter and more vibrant. There’s a sense of excitement in everything we do together, whether it’s making love on the beach as a hurricane bears down on us, or an intense conversation late at night.

The realization that I might have lost her for good is a knife twisting in my gut. I can’t imagine a life without her. I don’t want to. She’s become so much a part of me, the thought of losing her is unbearable.

It’s not just a physical pain; it’s deeper, cutting into my very soul. I need her more than I can put into words, more than I’ve ever needed anyone.

Mom takes a seat on the bench. Her hand reaches for mine. “Son. Are you okay?”

“Emmy’s gone.”

She squeezes my hand gently. “We’ll get her back, Paddy.”

I flinch as she calls me Paddy. It’s not my name. It’s my father’s name. And her words feel hollow, unable to reach the part of me that knows I’ve let Emmy down.

A breath, expanding the tightness of my chest, the words scraping against the sides of my throat as they fight not to be released: “That’s not true. She’s gone and it’s my fault.”

She looks at me, confusion and concern etched across her face. “ Paddy, what are you talking about? How could this possibly be your fault?”

I think about Emmy, how brave she was to open up to me. How it felt to speak to her about everything that happened with Riley and Danny. They were things I’d never spoken about with anyone before, but opening myself up to her felt natural—she’s the light that makes all the darkness slide away, the shadows shrinking until it’s just her and me. Except now Emmy is gone.

And this entire situation is my fault.

We never should have kept our relationship secret and just fun , me remaining focused on work like it was the most important thing. Looking back now, I can see how that made everything so much worse in Emmy’s head, how it led to the explosive situation on the boardwalk.

I should have given her what she deserved from the very start. How could I have let her leave? What the fuck have I done?