“Ivy, my injury has nothing to do with you, so don’t blame yourself. When we get back, if my family has anything to say, just ignore them.” Jamison could tell she was feeling guilty and wanted to put her at ease.

Ivy turned to face him, her striking eyes blinking at him. She reached out, took his hand in hers, and spoke softly, “No matter what you say, I can’t pretend your injury has nothing to do with me. Your brother called tonight–he didn’t say anything about me, but your mother is definitely going to blame me when we get back. Don’t worry, though. I promise I won’t get into an argument with her.”

Jamison chuckled. “If she pushes you too far, you have every right to argue back. In fact, I’ll even back you up.”

Ivy frowned at him, utterly incredulous. “Do your parents ever regret having you?”

He just grinned, closing his eyes as his voice grew soft and drowsy. “Maybe they do. But I think, once a man’s married, he’s supposed to stand by his wife. Calming my mom down–that’s my dad’s job…”

Ivy didn’t respond because, by the time he finished, he’d already drifted off to sleep.

In the faint glow of the nightlight, Ivy watched him sleep, unable to resist reaching out and tracing her fingers over his strong, handsome features. Her mind was a tangle of emotions she couldn’t quite name–she just felt so safe, so steady, so content to lean on him.

In that moment, she realized with perfect clarity what happiness felt like: having someone to count on, someone to love.

Drowsiness washed over her. Almost unconsciously, she inched closer to him, curling up until her forehead nearly touched his. Only then did she finally slip into a peaceful sleep.

That night, Jamison barely slept.

With the wound on his back, lying on his stomach was the only option, but it left his neck and limbs stiff and numb. The discomfort was relentless.

He tried to shift onto his side for relief, but any big movement pulled at his injury. Inch by inch, he painstakingly maneuvered himself until he was finally able to rest a little on his side.

But before long, the side he was lying on went numb, too.

When he tried to move again, Ivy stirred awake.

“Did I wake you?” Jamison whispered.

She didn’t answer right away, sitting up and mumbling, “What’s wrong? Is it your wound?”

“It’s not the wound, just the numbness from lying like that. It’s uncomfortable.”

“How can I help?”

Since she was up anyway, Jamison decided to ask for her help. “I’d like to lie on my right side. Could you tuck a couple of pillows behind me?”

With the pillows supporting his back, he wouldn’t feel like he was falling and could rest a bit easier.

Ivy got out of bed and dug some spare pillows from the closet, gently wedging them behind him.

“All right, try to get some sleep,” Jamison said, his voice warm.

She nodded, slipped back under the covers, and closed her eyes–reminding him as she drifted off, “If you’re uncomfortable again, wake me up.”

“I will,” Jamison promised, though he silently vowed not to move a muscle the rest of the night, just to let her sleep.

The long night finally gave way to dawn.

Jamison’s sleep was so restless that he gave up and got out of bed early.

Ivy, worried about him, hadn’t slept well either. She felt him moving and got up, too.

After they’d washed up and sat down for breakfast, Jamison’s phone rang.

Ivy picked up right away. “Hey, Gallagher, how’s it going on your end?”

Gallagher sounded exhausted, his voice hoarse from the long night. “We’ve just about finished calming everyone down, but we still haven’t found the two women who were taken into the woods. Miss Windsor, I know it’s a lot to ask, but… could you come back and help us again?”