Ava’s POV

  

   “God, it’s fucking boiling up here even with the window cracked,” I muttered, kicking the thin sheet off my legs for the third time in ten minutes. 

  

   The loft fan spun slow circles above us, doing jack shit to move the sticky air. 

  

   Moonlight slipped through the slats, painting pale stripes across the mattress we were forced to share because the guest rooms were still torn apart with paint cans and plastic sheeting.

  

   Cade lay on his back beside me, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest rising and falling steady like he’d already passed out. His board shorts were slung low, the waistband riding just below the...