27. Trent
Chapter 27
Trent
Now, as we pull up to the remains of our home, Jenny’s voice catches in her throat. Her eyes fix on the shattered shell of what used to be our sanctuary, and for a moment, she says nothing.
“It looks a lot worse than it seems,” I offer gently, trying to lessen the shock. “I met with Niall and the structural engineer to assess the damage this morning. They said it’ll need significant repairs, but it’s not a lost cause.”
Jenny’s gaze stays locked on the wreckage; her lips press tightly together as tears brim in her eyes. “Our beautiful home . . . It’s destroyed.” Her voice trembles, barely a whisper.
“But you weren’t,” I reply, turning toward her. Without thinking, I pull her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I dare. “That’s all that matters to me.”
After a beat, I lean back, brushing a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “Actually,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, “I’d love to have your insight on how best to redo the upstairs.”
Her eyes widen slightly, the hint of a smile breaking through her sadness. “You do? But, Trent, I’ll only be here for less than a year.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, my voice firm but kind. “It’s our home.”
The weight of those words seems to settle between us, tangible and real.
Back in the truck, we make our way over to the marina lodge. After we park, I hop out and circle around to Jenny’s side, opening her door before she can protest.
“Trent,” she says as I scoop her into my arms, “you don’t have to carry me.”
“I insist,” I reply with a grin. “Plus, it’s only right for a husband to carry his wife over the threshold.”
Jenny folds her arms with a mock huff. “That’s only on the wedding day.”
“Well,” I counter, feigning seriousness, “I think it should apply anytime said husband and wife get a new place to live.”
Her skeptical look gives way to curiosity as I carry her into the lodge. “We’re living here?” she asks, glancing around the space.
“Yes and no,” I reply, heading toward the back of the building. “There’s one place I haven’t shown you yet.” I stop in front of a plain wooden door in the corner of the shop. “Would you mind turning the knob?”
Jenny raises an eyebrow but complies. “Doesn’t this just go to the attic? We’re not living in the attic, are we?”
I chuckle. “Sort of. It’s more than an attic—there is also a studio apartment up there. It’s where I stayed while I was building the house. I swung by yesterday to clean it up and grab a few things from home.”
We climb the narrow staircase, Jenny insisting on walking despite my protests. I’d been enjoying the feel of her in my arms. At the top, she stops short, taking in the sight of the modest space.
The apartment is simple but serviceable: a small kitchenette with mismatched cabinets, a sitting area with a loveseat and an old armchair, and a bathroom off to the side. The centerpiece is a single king-sized bed, its navy comforter neatly smoothed out.
“There’s only one bed, Trent,” Jenny points out, her tone a mix of amusement and apprehension.
“Yes,” I reply, leaning casually against the doorframe. “But it’s a king, so there’s plenty of room for your pillow fortress.”
She swats my arm playfully, then moves to inspect the space. Her fingers trail over the countertops, and she opens a few cabinets before stepping into the bathroom for a quick glance.
A voice from downstairs interrupts the quiet.
“Who’s that?” Jenny asks, peering back toward the stairs.
“That must be Margot,” I reply, heading toward the noise. “Holly’s younger sister. She works for the Tennessee Pacers, and she said she’d bring some of the guys from the team to help clean up the marina.”
Jenny’s face lights up. “That’s so thoughtful! Let’s go greet them.”
“Jenny, the doctors said you need to rest,” I caution, though I already know I’ve lost this battle.
She waves me off with a playful swat. “You’re worse than a mother hen. I won’t do any heavy lifting—I just want to say thank you.”
With a resigned sigh, I follow her down to the marina yard, where Margot stands with a group of towering athletes.
“Hi, Trent,” Margot calls, hurrying over to give me a hug. Her smile falters as she notices the stitches on Jenny’s forehead. “Jenny, I’m so sorry to hear about what happened. Are you feeling better?”
Jenny nods graciously. “A little bruised, and these,” she says, gesturing to her stitches, “but nothing I can’t heal from. Thank you so much for coming out to help—it means a lot to us.”
“It’s no problem at all,” Margot says, her tone earnest. “When I told the team owner about the damage, he was more than happy to have the guys pitch in. I only asked for a few volunteers, but over half the team wanted to help. Especially since they knew it was for friends of mine.”
“We’re always happy to help out Boss Lady here,” says one of the players, his deep voice tinged with warmth.
“Welcome to the marina,” Jenny says warmly, her smile genuine as she looks between Margot and the players who came with her.
“We’re so thankful for your assistance,” I add, extending a hand to each of them in turn. “It would take us ages to clean up this place without your help.”
“Happy to pitch in,” Margot says. “I was sorry to hear y’all got hit pretty bad.”
“Yeah, the storm wasn’t kind,” I reply, glancing toward the scattered debris and leaning docks.
After a few moments of small talk, I address the group, raising my voice slightly so everyone can hear. “Alright, here’s the plan. There are some key things we’ll need to tackle today. I’ve already walked the grounds and noted the damage—secured any loose boats too—but there’s a lot of cleanup to do. We’ll need to clear both small and large debris: wood, metal scraps, loose items from the docks and walkways. The tree removal crew is working on hazardous trees, but we need to gather the rest. For now, let’s make organized piles. Later today, a truck will bring in a large dumpster, and we’ll transfer everything then.”
The group listens intently, nodding in understanding.
“We might also need to do some small repairs on the docks,” I continue. “Replacing broken planks, securing benches. If anyone has handyman skills, I could use the help there.”
Margot doesn’t miss a beat, directing some players here and others there.
“This will be a huge help,” I say, tipping my baseball cap back and running a hand through my hair. “Honestly, without you all, I’d be working on this cleanup for weeks by myself.”
“You’re not alone,” Margot says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got this.”
I glance at Jenny, who’s been quietly observing the interaction. “You doing okay?” I ask softly, leaning toward her.
She exhales, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah. I just wish I could help with something.”
I study her for a moment, gauging her energy. “Well,” I say finally, “if you’re determined to pitch in, you could grab some waters and pass them out to the volunteers. It’s going to be a long day, and I’m sure everyone will appreciate it.”
Jenny’s face brightens, and she gives a small nod. “I can do that.”
I watch her walk toward the lodge, her steps a little slower than usual but still purposeful.