Page 64 of What Remains of Grace

The guys split off to their tasks, the kind of silent coordination built over years of working together. Tarps unfurled across the flower beds. Nail guns hissed to life. By eight a.m., the whole property echoed with the percussion of hauling shingles, lifting boards, and air compressors kicking on.

Cole moved through it all with that easy command he never bragged about, checking angles, adjusting chalk lines, anchoring ladder feet with the heel of his boot. He didn’t bark orders; people just paid attention when he spoke.

Around nine, Jenna brought out a plate of cut fruit, claiming she’d made too much for breakfast.

“You mean you’re worried we’re all about to pass out?” Travis said, shoving a strawberry into his mouth.

“It’s Florida,” Jenna replied. “Hydration is survival.”

Cole caught her eye and gave a small nod, a thank-you wrapped in something cozier.

By noon, the tarps were off, the decking secured, and the first rows of shingles were going down clean and straight. The sun beat down with the full intent of August, and Emmie wandered outside every half-hour with cold waters, claiming she was “doing hydration rounds” for safety.

“Your safety officer takes her job seriously,” Jenna murmured to Cole as Emmie disappeared back inside.

Cole nodded. “She likes having a job.”

“She’s been the master baker for weeks. You all inhale food like you’re training for some sort of eating competition, plus she wants to practice recipes on you like test subjects,” Jenna added.

Travis’s voice floated down from the roof, “We are a gift to science!”

Despite the heat, despite the noise, despite everything the last few months had held, the day moved with an unexpected lightness. The crew teased each other endlessly—

“Hey Cole, this shingle’s upside down.”

“It’s not.”

“Would’ve been funny if it was.”

“Do the work, Travis.”

“Micro-managing, boss. It’s unattractive.”

Jenna laughed more that afternoon than she had in weeks. Even Cole cracked more smiles than usual, though every so often she caught him scanning the newly shingled sections like he was holding onto something he wasn’t ready to let go of. Like he knew what finishing this roof meant.

By mid-afternoon, the last shingle was set, the ridge vent secured, and the compressor fell silent. The quiet after a full workday always felt like something exhaled, but today it made her throat tight.

Cole gave a final nod. The crew packed up. And it felt like every tension line in Jenna’s shoulders loosened at once, only to twist again with the knowledge that they were nearly done here.

“Small victory?” Cole asked as he walked beside her toward the driveway.

“Massive victory,” she said. “You did it.”

His smile flickered, warm but fleeting. “We did it.”

“I did nothing of the sort.” She said with a laugh, ignoring how much the comment meant to her.

And that, more than the roof, more than the work, was the part she wasn’t ready to lose.

* * *

That night, they gathered at Capt’n Jack’s, Cole’s idea, Emmie’s insistence. A back-to-school sendoff, a goodbye to the crew, and a celebration of finishing the last big piece of the renovation.

The patio overlooked the sponge docks, lights shimmering across the water, live music drifting from the open-air bar. The air smelled like salt, fried seafood, and summer.

Jenna hadn’t realized how much she needed a night like this.

Travis had arrived first, already halfway through a basket of hush puppies. “Don’t judge me,” he said when Jenna raised a brow. “I’ve been roofing since six.”