Chapter 15 Willa
FIFTEEN
willa
Baby: So… how was the date?
Josie: Baby! Let her wake up first!
Baby: It’s 7 a.m. If she’s not awake yet, she had a VERY good night.
Willa: I hate you both.
Josie: That’s not an answer! Did you have fun?
Willa: …yes.
Baby: AND???
Willa: And nothing. It was nice. We had dinner and danced.
Baby: Girl, I already know that part. If you don’t give me details, I’m coming over there.
Josie: Did he kiss you goodnight?
Willa: …maybe.
Baby: WILLA MARIE JAMES
Willa: Fine. Yes. Happy?
Baby: VERY. Now about Denver…
Willa: What about Denver?
Josie: You’re going with them, right? For the championship?
Willa: I have to. Part of the arrangement.
Baby: Mmhmm. And where are you staying?
Willa: I’m getting my own room.
Baby: Sure you are
Josie: Baby’s probably right. They’re going to want you close.
Baby: “Close” is a nice word for it. My money’s on only one bed.
Willa: There will NOT be only one bed. I’m getting my own room. Professional boundaries, remember?
Baby: Professional boundaries went out the window when Beau McCrae got his hands under your skirt.
Willa: HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?
Baby: Honey, you two weren’t exactly subtle. Half the bar saw that man’s hand disappear under your skirt.
Josie: BABY!
Baby: What? I’m just saying, if she’s already breaking rules on date one…
Willa: I’m going to work now. You two are impossible.
Josie: Have a good day! Love you!
Baby:
The Sweet Grass Clinic is quiet when I arrive, the morning sun just starting to filter through the windows. Dr. Sage is already at her desk, her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun, reading glasses perched on her nose. Clearly doing the crossword.
“Morning, Willa,” she says without looking up. “You’re here early.”
“Morning, Dr. Sage.” I hover in the doorway, suddenly nervous. “Do you have a minute?”
She looks up, her sharp eyes assessing. “Of course. Come in, sit.”
I sink into the chair across from her desk, my hands fidgeting in my lap. “I wanted to put in a request for the Denver assignment. The APbrA championship next week.”
Her eyebrows rise slightly. “The one with Pack McCrae?”
My face heats. Of course she knows. Everyone knows. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her gaze flicks to the courier envelope on her desk.
“I got the request from Mr. Lane this morning. Apparently, the pack requested you too.” She sets down her pen and leans back in her chair.
“Willa, I’m going to be direct with you.
Workplace romances are complicated, especially in our field.
The power dynamics, the professional boundaries—they’re there for good reasons. ”
“I know, but—”
“But,” she continues, holding up a hand, “you’re also an adult. And as long as you’re being safe—both physically and professionally—I support you.” She pauses. “Are you being safe?”
“Yes,” I manage. “We have… rules. Boundaries.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “Rules and boundaries. How’s that working out for you?”
I think about last night, about Beau’s fingers inside me, about the way I begged him not to stop. “It’s… a work in progress.”
She laughs. “I’m sure it is. All right, I’ll do what I can about getting you on the Denver assignment. But Willa,” her expression turns serious, “be careful. Not just with your heart, but with your career. You’ve worked too hard to let anything jeopardize it.”
“I will. Thank you, Dr. Sage.”
“Now,” she says, standing and pulling an emergency kit from the storage cabinet, “I need you to take an emergency call with me out at Meadowlark Ranch. Not sure what’s going on exactly, but the landowner says there’s a dog stuck in a well.
It isn’t hurt—they just can’t get it out.
I’ve got to swing by the neighbor’s farm first—apparently, one of McMan’s pigs decided it was time to give birth without warning.
I’ll meet you at Meadowlark. Go ahead and see what’s happening and call me as soon as you know. I’ll be right behind you.”
The drive to Meadowlark Ranch takes twenty minutes, winding through countryside that’s achingly familiar. I used to ride my bike out here as a kid, exploring the endless acres with my brother and his friends.
With Charlie. His property is only a mile or so away from the old Meadowlark Ranch.
The thought sends a flutter through my chest that I immediately quash. One date with Beau and I’m already spiraling about the whole pack. This is why rules exist.
When I pull up to the main barn, a woman is already waiting—small, dark hair braided into two long, thick plaits framing her face, a simple gray wool beanie pulled low over her head.
Her arms are wrapped around herself and her puffy coat in a way that speaks of deep discomfort.
Her cheekbones are wide, sharp, and stunning.
It takes me a moment to place her, but when I do, shock ripples through me.
“Saramaria?”
She looks up, and I see the recognition in her eyes. “Willa? Hi.”
Saramaria Cruz. We went to high school together.
She was wild and fearless and full of life—the kind of Omega who never let anyone tell her what to do.
But the woman standing in front of me now is nothing like that girl.
She’s closed off, timid, her scent suppressants so strong they’re giving me a headache.
What happened to her?
“It’s been a while,” I say carefully.
“Yeah.” She doesn’t elaborate. An awkward silence stretches between us before she finally speaks again. “Thanks for coming. I know this isn’t exactly protocol.”
“Dr. Sage said there was a dog stuck?”
Her face crumples. “I’m sorry. Yeah, it’s my dog. He’s stuck in an old dry well about a mile from here.”
“How long has he been down there?”
“All night. I tried to get him out myself, but I can’t reach him and—” Her voice breaks.
“Show me where.”
We walk in silence, the distance stretching between us filled with questions I don’t know how to ask. What happened to the girl I knew? Why does she look so… broken?
The well appears suddenly, half-hidden by overgrown brush. And sure enough, I can hear whimpering from below.
“How deep?” I ask.
“Maybe ten feet? There’s an old ladder, but it’s rotted through in places.”
I peer over the edge. The dog, a golden retriever mix, is huddled at the bottom, clearly scared but not injured. The well is dry, thank god, but narrow.
“I can fit,” I say, already assessing the situation.
“Willa—” Saramaria starts.
“I’m taller than you, and besides, I grew up climbing things I shouldn’t. I’ve got this.”
It takes some maneuvering, but I manage to lower myself into the well, testing each rung of the ladder carefully. The dog whines when I reach him, but he lets me scoop him up. He’s heavier than he looks. I’m just thankful he’s not full-grown. I doubt I’d be able to haul a seventy-pound dog.
“Okay, Saramaria, I’m going to hand him up—“
I make it four rungs before the dog starts trying to use me as a launching pad to get back to his owner. He makes a wild leap and manages to stick his feet on the edge, but isn’t able to pull himself all the way out.
The rung under my foot gives way with a crack.
I don’t fall—I catch myself on another rung—but now I’m stuck. The dog is too heavy to lift with one hand, and I can’t climb up without both hands free.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Willa?” Saramaria’s face appears a few feet above me, pale with worry.
“I’m okay. Just… stuck. Can you take the dog?”
Between the two of us, we manage to get the dog to safety. But his last push to get out sends me off balance, and with the shifting of my weight, the rung I’m standing on breaks free. I find myself on my ass at the bottom of the well, like I’m in an old spaghetti western.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” I moan.
I pat around my coat pockets and find that, like an intelligent human, I managed to keep my cell phone. But when I go to try to make a call, there’s no service. So much for 5G. A small amount of worry starts to creep in. It’s late November in Wyoming, and it will get cold as shit soon.
“Hey, Saramaria, does your cell work?”
A pause where I assume she’s checking it. “No. My cell’s not getting service,” she calls down.
Double shit.
“But there’s a landline at the cabin,” she says.
“Can you go and call the clinic? Let them know the situation. They can send someone with proper equipment.” It would have to be a dog in a well, wouldn’t it? A cat in a tree, I could have figured out.
Maybe I can scale the sides, like they do in movies. It’s not that far, so I try to use pieces of the old ladder to make a kind of scaffolding—to no avail. I just slip on the damp wood that won’t hold me, and the rest breaks.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Just embarrassed. Go.”
She disappears, and I’m left sitting in a dry well, feeling like an absolute idiot. This is exactly the kind of thing that would happen to me. I’m trying to think of a funny way to spin this so I don’t look like a total rookie when I hear a voice.
“Anyone here?” The voice sounds familiar.
“Hello?” I call up. “Saramaria?”
A face appears over the edge of the well. One that is definitely not the tense Omega from earlier.
Jake Dillon.
Lovely. Just exactly what this moment needed—an audience. And of course it would be one of them.
His eyes go wide as he peers down at me, and he starts laughing so hard he disappears from the edge of the well rim, and I have to assume he fell right on his ass.
“All right, Dillon,” I huff, crossing my arms. “I’m pretty sure that’s sufficient—it’s not that funny.”
His head pops back over the side of the well, and he’s caught in another wave of belly laughter. Then he grins down at me, wide and boyish.
“Willa James. It absolutely is that funny. What the hell are you doing down there?”
“Oh, you know. Just hanging out. Thought I’d explore some wells today.”
He grins, that golden retriever energy radiating off him even from up there. “Only you would end up stuck in a well. What are you even doing out here?”