The lights of the cabin send a wave of relief crashing over me—but I move even faster, hustling Waverly through the trees, over the packed dirt, and up the steps to the deck. The string lights I wound around the deck rail at the beginning of summer are lashing in the wind, their little bulbs still glowing heroically.

“Come on.” Less gentle than I should be in my worry, I push Waverly toward the door. She actually pauses to kick off her muddy boots first—so I snarl and lift her against my chest, carrying her inside the cabin like an unruly child and slamming the door against the wind.

I’m...