“After all, I’m home full time, now, and you’re still a coast guard pilot, right? Not exactly a good, dependable, predictable schedule for a little girl, is it?” She tilted her head.

“Get. Out.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Just something to keep in mind, baby. There are easier ways to do this. Think about it.” She walked out of the kitchen and left through the front door without saying good-bye to Finley.

I calmed myself down and got Finley bathed and put to bed while she told me all about the field trip to Roanoke she was going on tomorrow. Once she was tucked in, I kissed her forehead, then put her walkie-talkie on her nightstand and told her I’d be at Morgan’s place for a bit if she needed me.

Switching my cell phone to our indoor cameras, I activated the zone right outside her room as I walked over to Morgan’s in the dark.

The sound of banging came through the front door as I knocked.

Sam opened the door, but her face wasn’t welcoming. “Tonight is not a good night.”

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that Sam wasn’t responsible for my shitty mood. There was another bang and the sound of cracking wood. “What the hell is going on?”

“She’s trying to demo.” Her lips flattened.

“Okay, then I can help her.” Hell, breaking shit sounded great right now.

“Not tonight you can’t. You look all pissy, and that’s the last thing she needs.”

Another bang, followed by a curse.

“Sam, I haven’t seen her since Saturday morning. This is the only night I have off for two more days. Please don’t stand there and tell me I can’t see her because I’m in a shit mood.” My jaw flexed.

Sam sighed and let her head roll back in frustration before looking at me. “Okay. Here’s the deal. It’s May sixteenth.”

“Right.”

Her eyes widened like I wasn’t catching on. “It’s May sixteenth, which is the day—”

“Will died,” I guessed, then cursed when she nodded.

“So my girl is in there breaking some shit under the guise of it being demo, and you can’t go in there all pissy. Got me?” She stared me down good for being such a little thing.

“I’ve got you.” I ran a hand over my hair and tried to get my head on right.

“Okay, then come in. Just…watch your feet.” She led me inside, and we walked through the foyer and turned the corner into the kitchen, where Morgan stood with a sledgehammer, wearing Will’s baseball hat.

She was covered in dust and breathing heavy as she surveyed the row of upper cabinets she’d brought down.

“Hey,” I said softly.

She turned quickly, clearly shocked. “Hey. I’m just, ummm—”