I'm awakened several times during the night.

First Mrs. Adelaide, then Carlos nudge me from my sleep and give me water, making sure that I remain coherent and hydrated. Apparently it's concussion protocol.

They repeat this at least one more time before morning, who while the intention was well-meaning, it leaves me sleepy.

But no matter how hard I try-whether due to the daylight or unfamiliar surroundings-I can't stay in bed later than nine.

After slipping on my shoes, I go downstairs expecting Clayton to be at the breakfast table, but while everything is set, his place is empty.

"Dr. Ward has asked that you make yourself at home and stay for as long as you'd like."

The unexpected voice from behind me makes me jump. It's a woman I hadn't seen before. She's carrying some linens or bedsheets, and she appears pleasant enough.

"Is he here?"

"No, miss," she responds with a shake of her head.

"Thank you," I say, deciding not to ask any other questions. If I had run into Carlos or Mrs. Adelaide, it would be another story. "I think I'm going to go home now."

I expect to walk, but outside, there's another man I've never seen before standing next to Clayton's SUV. My best guess is that he's part of the security team. Since he doesn't introduce himself, I'm going to think of him as Carlos, Jr.

He's gotten orders on driving me home, and since he won't take no for an answer, I reluctantly accept. I do try to ask if he knows where Clayton is, but I just get a "no, ma'am" in response.

When I get home, logic tells me that I should rest, but I'm too jittery from everything that's already happened this weekend. Plus, I'm starving. So after taking a long, steamy shower, I head back out.

It's definitely a puffer vest and boots kind of day because although it's sunny, the air has a sudden crispness to it as though autumn finally decided to arrive in full-force. It's my favorite season-and not just because I look darned cute in a knit pom hat-but rather the back-to-back holidays that are about to begin.

With a pastor father, we weren't allowed to celebrate Halloween in the modern gore-fest kind of way, but there was always tangy apple cider, gooey campfire s'mores and vibrant chrysanthemum flowers to always set the fall vibe. The small-town parades and home cooked feasts on Thanksgiving, and then all of the whimsical decorations of Christmas also made the shorter than average days bearable.

Reminiscing about Christmases gone by, I don't even notice the length of my cross-campus trek before I find myself in front of Howling Good Bites. Oy. I knew I'd eventually run into a bad wolf pun.

I was also worried that it would be crowded, but it's early enough on Sunday morning where most of the students are still asleep, so there's hardly a line before it's my turn.

I order a chocolate croissant and a tall latte before finding a small table in the corner, but a familiar face carrying a loaded tray out from the kitchen catches my eye. I give Galina a little wave and after she puts the tray on a back counter, she comes over.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" She greets me with a huge smile and a quick hug before handing me an iced sugar cookie. It's a cute werewolf head and it makes me chuckle.

"Real subtle," I say, taking a bite of the ear before pointing to the empty seat across from me. "Got a minute?"

"What? We have ghost and bat ones, too." Galina shrugs innocently as she sits down. "But I do only have a minute. There's a huge order of pumpkin scones I have to finish before the pack retreat. You are coming to that, right?"

I didn't feel comfortable being the only one besides Clayton to know the truth about the missing girl who really wasn't and Galina was the only person here I could trust with the revelation. But that was before any mention of a pack retreat completely derailed my thoughts.

"No. I mean, I didn't even know about it. At least I don't think I do," I say, silently wondering if it was something that Clayton had recently mentioned and yesterday's crash literally knocked it out of my memory.

Galina's eyes widen. "Oh! Good thing you dropped by, then. It's an absolute blast even though Clayton totally hates it. But it's Allegheny pack tradition and even he's not cocky enough to go against that."

I force a smile. I think she's underestimating Clayton's cockiness, but I don't mention that, either.

"Great. But what is it exactly?" I ask, instead. "Retreats make me think either cringy corporate team building to come up with goals you'll never use or new age wellness events where you smoke dubious stuff and eat kale."

Galina giggles. "Thankfully this is neither. We just get together for a couple of days every fall to hang out in an informal setting and just chill. It's nice to have a way to reconnect with members who you might otherwise not see other than ceremonies or work."

Since I've hardly gotten to know anyone else in the pack, this actually sounds great. Which makes it even more odd that Clayton seemingly doesn't want me to go.

"Oh, nice," I say, looking forward to something for a change and imagining a few days of fancy meals, digital detox and maybe even a professional massage. "So it's at a local hotel or a wellness center?"

"I wish!" Galina exclaims as she rolls her eyes. "We do it old school, girl. And by that, I mean camping in the woods where the bears poop."

"There are going to be bears?" I gasp.

Galina leans in. "Don't sound so shocked. You do remember that we're all . . . wolves," she says, significantly lowering her volume for the last word before straightening up again. "But no, there aren't any bears in this area. At least I don't think there are. It was just a metaphor. Or analogy. Or whatever. Doesn't matter. Do you have a tent? If not, you can bunk with me."

I'm pretty sure I've never owned a tent in my life and my brain starts running through what else I might need for camping. Then I realize that I have no idea, but Lark could probably help me.

"Sounds great," I say, hoping that I can figure it all out in the meantime. "When and where?"

After Galina and I square away the details, I walk over to my sister's place. The pub isn't open yet so I don't expect her to be working, but even with all of my knocking, she still doesn't answer her door. Instead, Spencer's door opens behind me.

"There's no use for that. She isn't home," he says, standing in just his boxers in his apartment's entrance. Messing up his already tousled hair, he looks like he just rolled out of bed.

I try not to stare at his amazing body, but it's hard to find another spot in the tiny foyer between the two doors. "How do you know?" I ask, wondering what they got up to after leaving me at Clayton's last night.

He thumbs behind him. "Because she's with me," Spencer says right as Lark appears.

Wrapped in a bed sheet, she looks just as disheveled as he does, but it's my cheeks that suddenly burn as I realize exactly what they did.

"Morning," she says with the type of chipper attitude that comes along with having such a night. "I'm sorry I haven't called yet. Is that why you're here? Because I totally meant to-"

"No, no. It's fine," I say, not wanting to seem like I'm here to check up on her. "I actually . . .." I trail off.

If I tell her about my camping plans, then Spencer will know that I know about the retreat. Since I really want to see Clayton's shocked face when I appear unannounced, then I shouldn't say anything about it now because the brothers may talk before then.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm feeling much better," I say instead. "Your phone was going to voicemail and I didn't want you to worry. And I was already in the neighborhood."

All of this is true, even if it is just part of the story. Thankfully though, Lark is satisfied.

"That's great news," she says, stepping out of the apartment and giving me a hug. "Go home and try to rest some more. We'll talk later."

She signals with her eyes towards Spencer to give me an idea of what that talk will be about and I smile in return. I may not have the same approach to dating or relationships as my sister, but I don't judge her for her choices and neither does she for mine. But I am rather curious to measure Spencer up against Clayton with regards to the brothers' different approaches to women.

"Sounds good," I say, stepping back. "Sorry again for the interruption."

"No worries. Take care, Barlow," Spencer says before closing the door.

I head home and by the time Galina arrives to pick me up, I've packed my essentials. There are some things that I just don't have and others that I'll have to substitute for the next best thing, but it's not like we're going to Timbuktu. I should still be fine for two days in upstate New York.

"You got a sleeping bag?" Galina asks as she helps load my stuff in her car.

I shrug. "I've got a yoga mat and a duvet."

"That'll work. Let's roll!"

An hour later, we pull into a parking lot of one of the many nature preserves in the state. From there, it's another thirty minute trek through the pines along a marked, but neglected trail before we reach the campground. There are a few dozen tens set up and a ton of people are already here, but I'm focused on seeing Clayton's reaction to my presence. As pack members-familiar, and mostly not-greet us, I keep looking around to find him.

Finally, I break down and ask, "Has anyone seen Clayton?"

An older man with his hair in a ponytail points toward a small, blue tent on the far side. "That's his A-frame over there. Not sure if anyone's there, though."

As if in response, the seal around the tent's entrance starts to be unzipped from the inside. My eyes widen as I expect to see Clayton emerge, but it's not him. It's Gemma freaking Calhoun.