“Beating the shit out of your kitchen because it’s the anniversary of Will’s death?” I offered.

Her shoulders relaxed. “Exactly.”

I took in the destruction of the room. She’d gotten the easy stuff, but there was a crapload more to do. “Look, I might be the last person you want to see tonight, and if that’s the case, I get it. No judgment. I will head home the minute you say so.”

She swallowed and moved her safety glasses to the top of her head.

“But I’m pretty good with a hammer, and I’d be happy to help if you want me to.”

Morgan stilled.

“Or I can just sit with you while you demo,” I offered.

Sam glanced between us as Morgan looked anywhere but at me, making her decision. “Stay. Sit. If you don’t mind that I’m not myself.”

I’d take her any way she came.

“Okay.” I clipped the walkie-talkie to my belt, set the notifications so my phone would vibrate if the camera detected motion, and slipped my phone into my back pocket.

“In that case,” Sam sang, “I’m going to leave her with you so I can run to the store. We’re out of ice cream, and that’s not good for anyone.”

Morgan nodded, and Sam gave me a half smile and a mouthed good luck before she headed out the door.

I grabbed one of the stools from the side of the breakfast bar and sat, keeping the bar between us to give her whatever space she needed. As much as it grinded my ass to admit, she wasn’t mine tonight. She was his.

She pushed the demolished cabinets to the end of the kitchen, and I locked my jaw to stop from asking her to let me help. This was the same girl who hadn’t wanted me to screw down the plywood on her landing. She sure as hell didn’t want me stepping in here.

Then she put her glasses back on, picked up the sledge, and swung it at the row of cabinets next to the space where the refrigerator had been. A quick glance showed that she’d moved it to the dining room.

“I bet you think I’m insane, right?” she asked, then swung the hammer again.

“Not at all.”

She looked at me over her shoulder, then swung the hammer, getting it stuck through the face of the cabinet door. “Shit!”

Don’t move. I folded my hands on the counter as I watched her struggle to free it, then let out a breath when she did.

“You should. I feel insane half the time. Did you know that Will and I weren’t even together? Not really.” She swung again, and the door fell.

“You said something about a quasi-boyfriend,” I recalled.