Despite the chaos, the crews operated as a tightly knit unit, each person understanding the urgency of their role, all of them working with the kind of precision that only comes from years of practice—they’d faced these storms before. Local contractors and volunteers labored alongside utility trucks with out-of-state insignias. Every action visibly contributed to restoring a sense of order and safety.
Emily hopped out of the truck and met Patrick at the tailgate. He opened his cooler, retrieved a couple of bottles from the ice, and handed them to her. Then he got his own.
“Anybody need free water?” he called, striding across the street toward a group clearing debris from a parking lot.
Emily followed his lead.
A couple of people stopped, clapped the debris off their hands, and met them happily. One of the men clapped Patrick on the back.
They continued passing out bottles. Once everyone there who wanted water had received one, they got back in Patrick’struck and drove until they found the next cluster of people, where they made the same offer.
“I’m surprised Winston isn’t with us,” Emily said, making conversation. “I could see him enjoying this.”
“He wanted to come with me,” Patrick said as they drove. “I thought, too, it’d be a good job for him.”
“Why didn’t he come?” Emily asked.
“Julia convinced him not to when I told her you were coming. She said she’d rather I have some time to talk to you when I wasn’t preoccupied.” When Emily didn’t respond, Patrick continued. “How’s the ex?”
Her chest tightened at the mention of Will. “Just as much of a disaster as ever.”
Patrick nodded, his lips set in a pout, his wrist guiding the steering wheel as they made their way down the road. “I want to apologize for my…openness last night. I don’t want to create any extra stress.”
“You didn’t.”
“I know you’ve got a lot to deal with right now. You don’t need me adding another layer.”
“I don’t have ‘a lot’ to deal with, apart from the fact that Will drove here in Tyson’s car and is stuck here for the weekend.”
“Maybe it’s meant to be. You two will have time away from your lives to figure out what you really want to do.”
“What I want to do is kick him out of the house. He cheated on me. I can’t forgive him for that.”
“Your emotions are raw right now. You might not forgive him. But you won’t know until you two have some time.”
His words hit her with a unique blend of truth and discomfort, like someone gently pressing on a bruise she hadn’t fully acknowledged. She wanted to believe she was done with Will, that her time here had removed any remaining attachment, but now doubt flickered at the edge of her certainty. She didn’twant to forgive Will, didn’t think he deserved it. But hearing Patrick’s words unsettled her. Patrick was rational, thoughtful, and she trusted him. Was she rushing toward something new just to outpace the old—the dreaded rebound? Or was this the clarity she needed?
He stopped at the next group of people and got out, tossing a few bottles to the workers. Then he climbed back in and they were off once more. As the truck rolled forward and the landscape blurred past the windows, she wrestled with the quiet truth: Healing wasn’t just about moving on. It was about understanding who she planned to be. In a very short time, her interactions with Patrick had begun to shape her. Without even trying, he’d shown her what she should expect from someone and the kind of person she wanted to spend time with. But just when she’d found him, she had to leave him.
Emily let the conversation go. Patrick didn’t offer anything else, and she didn’t bother to stand her ground—it wouldn’t matter if she did say something, given the situation. Instead, she focused all her energy on the people who worked so hard to make a difference.
Despite the crews’ obvious fatigue and the endless challenges she’d witnessed, there were moments of humanity that reminded her why the work mattered. A homeowner offering coffee to workers at a table in his front yard, children waving from porches, and, one time, it was the simple nod of appreciation from a wearied worker when she handed him water. This work wasn’t just about the physical recovery of the town, it was about helping a community stand strong. And Patrick was right in the middle of it. She would’ve never guessed it early on.
When all the water was gone, Emily didn’t want to return to the beach house.
“It’s still early,” she said. “Is there any other way I can help today?”
“You don’t need to get back?”
She shook her head. That was the last thing she wanted.
Patrick eyed her, clearly thinking—debating? “How are your raking skills?”
“As good as they’ll ever be.”
He abruptly changed direction, the truck’s tires grinding in protest. With a wide arc, he maneuvered past piles of windblown trash and debris and headed in a direction she’d never been before. The scenery evolved into a less-populated landscape, the beachy appeal of shops and vacation homes giving way to a more rural area.
Patrick took her down an extensive dirt road, into the woods. They bumped along until they arrived at a small cottage.
