Page 58 of Marry Me Tomorrow

“I can wait,” I choke out. “Please. That’s my wife in there. Bring her back to me.”

Her eyes soften, but she doesn’t waste time with reassurances she can’t promise. She just nods and moves toward the clearing path, her flashlight cutting through the darkness of the early morning hours.

A voice from one of the firefighters calls out on Silvia’s walkie-talkie, “Silvia, Jon, you’re up in just a minute, we’ve almost gotten through. Be ready.”

“On it, Sarge,” Silvia calls back through the walkie-talkie at her shoulder. Silvia adjusts her gear and turns back briefly. “We’re going in now.”

I step aside, fists clenched, as the EMTs disappear into the ruins of Jenny’s room. The storm still rages, the early morning sky a murky gray, but I barely notice. My world is reduced to one singular hope: that Jenny will come back to me.

Chapter 26

Jenny

The first thing I notice as I come to are the sounds. They’re quieter than before but still loud enough to keep me on edge. Distant voices mix with the low rumble of chainsaws and the patter of rain on shattered wood. It’s disorienting, like waking up underwater, every noise muffled yet pressing in on me.

Darkness surrounds me, and a searing pain stretches across my head. Breathing feels like a monumental effort, each shallow inhale burning in my chest. I try to move, but a sharp pain shoots through me, freezing me in place.

Gentle hands touch my neck, and I flinch instinctively. A soft voice speaks close to my ear, soothing and steady. “Shh . . . You’re safe. My name is Silvia, and I’m taking your vitals. Try to stay as still as you can. There’s a lot of debris and broken glass.”

A small beam of light pierces the darkness as she shines a flashlight into my eyes. The brightness stings, and I squint, my eyelids heavy as lead. “Hurts,” I manage to say. My voice sounds foreign to me, raspy and weak.

“I know it does,” she replies, her tone gentle but firm. “The other firefighters are working to get you out of here. You’re doing great—just hang in there.”

I try to glance around, but my view is blocked by a chaotic tangle of branches and debris. The air smells of crushed pine and damp earth, a sharp contrast to the fresh, slightly sweet scent of sawdust lingering in the background. My chest tightens as I process the confinement, panic clawing at the edges of my mind.

“Trent,” I gasp, my voice improving despite the pain. “Is he okay?”

Silvia’s expression softens, and she crouches lower so I can see her face clearly. “He’s fine,” she reassures me. “He’s just outside and very eager to see you. Let us finish in here, and you’ll be back with your husband in no time.”

The word husband echoes in my mind, grounding me. Trent is okay. Relief washes over me, and I manage a weak smile before my eyes flutter shut again.

“Hey, no sleeping,” Silvia says, her voice firmer now. She shakes my shoulder, her touch light but insistent. “I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

I nod faintly, fighting the pull of exhaustion. My entire body aches, the pain radiating in waves with each movement.

“We’re going to put you on a backboard now and get you out of here,” Silvia says. “You’re doing amazing. Just a few more moments, and we’ll have you back out there where you can see your husband.” Her voice is calm, but I can hear the urgency beneath it.

A familiar Irish brogue cuts through the noise. “Alright, Silvia, ready to transport?”

“Niall,” I whisper, recognizing the firefighter’s voice, “is Trent okay?”

“Hi, Jenny,” Niall says, leaning into my field of vision. His face is smeared with sawdust, but his eyes are warm. “He’ll be loads better once he sees you. Poor lad’s been a right mess since he called us.”

I muster a small smile, letting Niall’s familiar presence soothe my frayed nerves. If Niall says Trent’s okay, then Trent is okay. The EMTs lift me onto the backboard with careful precision, strapping me in securely.

“Jenny!” Trent’s voice is hoarse and raw, and the sound of it jolts my heart. Tears well up in my eyes as his face appears above me, rain dripping from his hair and down his cheeks.

“Trent,” I whisper, my voice breaking. Tears spill from me eyes because he really is okay, even up and moving around. I reach out my fingers to him.

As soon as he’s close enough, his hand wraps around mine. His grip is warm and steady, a lifeline in the chaos. “I’m so sorry, Jenny,” he says, his words tumbling out. “Everything’s going to be okay. The EMTs think it’s nothing too serious, but they’re taking you to the hospital to be sure. You were unconscious for so long.”

“Stay with me,” I plead, my fingers curling weakly around his.

“Always,” Trent vows, his voice fierce with emotion. “They couldn’t pry me away with a crowbar.”

A soft chuckle escapes me, but the motion sends a jolt of pain through my head. I wince, sucking in a sharp breath. “Hurts to laugh,” I admit, grimacing.

“No more jokes,” he promises, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “I’m just so glad you’re alright.”

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