When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

53. Emmy

Chapter 53

Emmy

M addy keeps crying for a few moments longer until her sobs quiet.

I find her pitiful reflection in the mirror. “Get up, Maddy.”

“I’m so sorry for everything,” she says, getting to her feet, stepping even closer, mere inches between us. “I’m sorry about Travis and I’m sorry for the way Mom and Dad are, it’s not fair.”

She exhales, sniffs, her gaze landing on the packet of blades. “Maybe you can’t forgive me, but don’t you dare fall apart now.” A sleeve dragged across her face. “You’re the strong one. You can’t be in here and give in to that . I won’t let you.”

I stare at her reflection, her words shocking. “Me? I’m the strong one?”

She nods. “Yes, you. You’re the only one who’s been brave enough to do all the things you wanted to do. Going to nursing school instead of law school like Mom and Dad wanted. Quitting pageants. Leaving for Harbor’s Edge.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Maddy has always been the perfect child, the one who never strayed from the path laid out for her. “But you… ”

Maddy shakes her head. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. The whole scene I’m in is so toxic. What I did to you. I just feel sick with anger toward myself.” She sniffs. “I’ve already given notice at the firm, but I haven’t told Mom and Dad yet. I’m too scared. I’m taking a year to travel, to figure out what I really want to do. But first, I need you to forgive me. Please . Please forgive me. You have to.”

She takes my shoulder, turns me away from the blades, away from her reflection, until I’m facing the real her, nothing between us. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was jealous, stupid, and I hurt you. Please, forgive me.”

The need to cut, to release some of the pain of losing everything in Harbor’s Edge, has gone. The dread, the darkness that had settled over me when I got here, has receded, too. I’m still heartsick, but it’s different than before. It leaves space for other things, like forgiveness.

Maddy looks so broken, I’m softening toward her, and in that instant we’re just sisters again, stripped of all the baggage and expectations, just this big ugly thing between us. She pulls me into a hug, and I let her. She clings to me like she can’t believe it, like I could push her away again at any moment.

But I don’t push her away. The scream is gone and a bond that has been frayed for too long is unexpectedly knitting back together, fueled by her apology and her honesty, her surprising belief in me. We continue to hold each other, and for the first time since I found her with Travis, I think maybe we can get through this.

Downstairs, the doorbell rings, echoing through the house.

“You’re doing the right thing by quitting your job, especially if you don’t love it.”

Maddy pulls back slightly, wiping her eyes, her makeup streaked over her face. “What about you?”

I don’t want to tell her about Patrick, about the awful mistake I made ending things with him, and how I need to find a way to fix it, somehow.

Footsteps on the stairs. Before Maddy can reply, there’s a knock on the door. Our housekeeper, Charlotte, calls my name from the other side. “Miss Emmy?”

“We’re in the middle of something,” Maddy calls back, still holding me, her voice shaky.

“There’s a gentleman at the front door. Patrick O’Connor. Your mother told him they were entertaining and you’re busy, but he won’t take no for an answer. I thought it best you come.”

Maddy frowns, looking at me with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Patrick O’Connor?”

But I’m already turning from her, from the blades still sitting beside the sink, the small flicker of hope catching fire in my chest.

Patrick came.

“I’m coming, Charlotte.” I pull away from Maddy and head for the door.

I walk downstairs, and the hallway seems to stretch on forever. I pass the sitting room, and the Whitakers stare at me, their polite smiles turned into curious, judgmental stares. My father is trying to continue a polite conversation, his voice strained and unnatural, but he’s struggling.

I keep walking, my heart pounding against the tight of my chest. Approaching the front door, my mother is there, physically blocking Patrick from coming in. Her posture is rigid, her expression cold and severe as she glances at me.

“Emmy.” Speaking through clenched teeth, her voice low, eyes returning to Patrick. “Ask your friend to leave. I told him we were entertaining, but he is refusing to go.”

He looks up and we lock eyes, and the fire in my chest erupts, a blaze consuming everything between us until we’re the last two people on earth. My mom and the guests and Maddy and my dad fade away, and it’s just us, the air crackling with a magnetic pull .

In that moment, all the confusion and pain dissolves, leaving only the raw, unfiltered truth of our connection.

I keep walking toward him and everything is so clear.

I stop behind my mom. “Just stop. Let him in or let me out.”

Her eyes widen, her control slipping for just a moment. “Excuse me?”

Stepping forward, positioning myself closer to her. “He’s here for me, and I want to talk to him.”

The guests in the sitting room have fallen silent, their curiosity turning into outright nosiness. My father’s voice falters, and an awkward silence follows.

She drops her voice even lower, her gaze flicking to Patrick’s old car parked in the driveway and back to me: “Emmy, we’re entertaining guests . This is not the time for whatever this is. You and your sister shouting at one another upstairs. Now a man we don’t know turning up unannounced?—”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Brooks.” Patrick’s voice is firm. “This is exactly the time. I’m here for Emmy and I’m not leaving until I have the chance to speak to her.”

“You need to leave.” Her tone is icy and controlled, but cracks are forming in her composure.

“I’m not leaving,” Patrick replies, his voice steady, but I can sense the effort it takes for him to stand his ground. He’s always cared about his standing in the community and his reputation. Facing off against my mother, in her own home, while her guests listen in, is costing him a lot.

But he’s doing it for me.

My mother’s eyes narrow as she steps closer to Patrick. “You are embarrassing Emmy. This isn’t appropriate.”

His eyes never leave hers. “What’s inappropriate is trying to control Emmy’s life, embarrassing her in her place of work, and treating her like she can’t make choices for herself. I love her, and I’m not going to let her walk away without a fight.”

My mother’s lips press into a thin line. She’s on the verge of losing her cool. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Emmy is our daughter, and we know what’s best for her.”

Patrick’s hand tightens around the edge of the door, his knuckles turning white. “With all due respect, you’re suffocating her, pulling her down instead of letting her be her best self. She deserves to live her own life, make her own choices. She’s stronger than you give her credit for, an excellent nurse, and someone people are willing to fight for. It’s not just me, my family sent me to bring her back.”

Her eyes flash with anger. “As I said, this is not the place for this discussion. You have no idea about the trouble she’s put us through.”

“No,” Patrick says, his voice unwavering. “It is the place. Because this is where Emmy is. And I’m here to show her that she has someone who believes in her, who supports her and always will.”

“I find your tone disrespectful and uncalled for!”

“I could say the same to you.”

Patrick steps forward, his hand still gripping the door, bicep flexed, applying slow, steady pressure, the broad of him facing off against the sharp of her—two major forces in my life, silently battling it out in the narrow space of the doorway.

Time slows, the air charged, crackling. Patrick’s shoulders are squared, every muscle in his body radiating his resolve. He doesn’t say a word, but the intense blue of his eyes remains on me. His jaw is set, the hinge of it determined as he holds his ground.

Mom’s posture is impeccable even as she tries to hold the door, but she can’t withstand the quiet, immovable force that is Patrick. Her lips part as if to issue one last command, but he is too much.

She finally steps aside, the movement small but significant, a silent acknowledgment of defeat. Then he’s reaching out to take my hand. There’s a moment when Mom realizes if she doesn’t let me pass, she’s going to make this scene worse, and she finally steps all the way back, visibly resetting her false smile, her voice unnaturally bright.

“Well, Emmy, don’t be long. We’ll expect you back soon.” But the look she gives me lets me know this isn’t over.

I step outside with Patrick, closing the door behind us.