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"You're all right," I hear Ivy say soothingly as she rubs the woman's back. "No one here is going to hurt you."

"But is there a hotel? Where can I stay? I lost my wallet." Her words tumble out.

We should call the doctor. She's likely in shock.

"There isn't an inn—" Layla starts.

"Though that's really something we should look into if we're going to get more visitors here," Colt mutters.

"But I'm sure we can find somewhere for you to rest and get your bearings," Ivy assures her, though she looks a little uncertain herself.

I stare at Will's back, then I take a deep breath and evaluate the woman from the boat.

Her long black hair hangs wet to the middle of her back from the lake spray. Her skin is pale, and goosebumps scatter across her bare arms and legs. She isn't dressed for cold weather, wearing a simple black short-sleeved shirt and shorts. I wonder if she would have developed hypothermia if she hadn't reached shore.

Am I really willing to fight to recreate a protection spell that would have let her die rather than bringing her here?

"She can stay at my house," I find myself saying loudly before I can overthink it.

Every gaze on the beach turns to me.

Most are shocked.

Will's expression is more surprised than I want it to be.

"I haven't been sleeping there anyway. It's available."

Laz nods.

Will trudges through the sand toward me, and before I can say anything, his arms are around me and his face is pressed against my neck.

My hands press him closer.

"I always trust you," I whisper into his hair. "I'm sorry. I had a knee-jerk reaction."

He nods.

"It's okay. We're all just trying."

I huff.

Will, my ever-understanding mate.

How do I get so lucky?

Willoughby

We help the others take the new woman, Nola, back to Randy's house. We light a fire in his hearth, change his sheets, and show her where everything is. Randy invites her to use whatever she needs, and we assure her that we're right next door in case she encounters any problems.

She cries as she thanks us profusely, which clearly causes Randy discomfort, but he takes it with grace. Before we leave, she shocks him by throwing her arms around his shoulders in a thank-you hug.

Morty trots along behind us as we head around the stone wall to my side of the property. The pumpkin shines faintly in the moonlight.

"I can't believe how well it's doing, considering how poorly it started a few weeks ago," Randy says.

My hand slips into his, warm and comforting. "I'd say that about a certain mating bond too," I point out, bringing the back of his hand to my lips for a soft kiss.

He shivers, and a flush creeps beneath his freckles, visible even in the moonlight.