She shook her head. “I hate our friends. I hate them all for turning their backs on me and abandoning me. I’m so tired I want to sleep for a week. This isn’t my life and I don’t want to live it anymore but saying that makes me the bitchiest bitch in the whole world because if I wasn’t living it I wouldn’t be trying to find Elise. And now I’m in Idaho not because you wanted to invite me to your house and show me…” She finally paused to take a breath and look around the room. “Show me this, whatever this project is. Nope. I’m in Idaho because it’s too dangerous for me to be in California. And because of all that, I’m behaving like a child and demanding you take back a comment. And I’m happy Cole’s not here to witness this because I’m pretty sure this is the definition of throwing drama.”

This wasn’t drama. This was everything piling on top of Sloane again.

“Two breakdowns in two days, you must think I’m a basket case.”

I shrugged off my backpack, dropped it on the floor, and closed the distance between us.

“Come on, let's get you in the shower and then to bed.”

Sloane eyed the room suspiciously before her exhausted eyes came back to mine. It was the dead-on-her-feet look that made my decision easy. I swung her up into my arms into a fireman’s hold and started across the living room.

“I can walk.”

“You might step on a nail,” I lied.

“I’m wearing shoes.”

“You’re wearing high heels and this is a construction zone,” I told her and started climbing the stairs.

“Does that mean I need to wear a hard hat and one of those orange vests if I want to see your downstairs in the daylight?”

Suddenly a filthy vision of Sloane wearing nothing but a hard hat, caution vest, and a pair of work boots filled my mind.

“Tomorrow I’m buying a hard hat.”

“Are you crazy?”

I was beginning to think I was, so I didn’t bother answering.

I stepped into the master, flipped on the light, and heard Sloane suck in a breath. Unlike the rest of the house, the bedroom remodel was done. I’d blown out the wall to the room next door to add space for a walk-in closet and enlarged the bathroom. The vaulted ceiling now had knotty alder tongue and groove. The walls were painted stark white, but it was the stone fireplace I was most proud of.

“Did you do this?”

“Yep.”

“Holy shit, Asher, this is amazing.”

“Wait until you see the bathroom.”

I skirted the bed, happy I’d changed the sheets before I left, and I walked into the bathroom.

“Flip the switch, baby.”

Sloane reached out and tagged the lights. This time she didn’t inhale—she gasped, then she struggled until I set her on her feet.

“You did this, too?” she asked as she spun in a circle.

I was proud of the work I’d done in my bedroom, but the bathroom was next level.