Page 13 of Ethan (Pecan Pines #7)

Ethan

I checked over Naomi and Connor one last time, gently pressing around the scrapes and minor cuts they’d picked up.

The swelling had already gone down, and the bruises looked less angry than the night before.

They were healing well. Relief loosened the knot that had been sitting in my chest since the call came in.

The clinic door opened then, letting in a rush of cool morning air and the sound of hurried footsteps.

Naomi’s parents stood in the doorway, faces pale, her mother’s eyes already wet with tears.

“Naomi!” her mother breathed, rushing forward.

She gathered the girl into her arms, hugging her so tightly that Naomi gave a muffled protest. Her father stood close, his hand resting at the small of his wife’s back in silent support.

“Thank you, Ethan,” Mrs. Halloway said. She turned to me, her voice breaking. “Thank you for finding her.”

“She’s a smart girl,” I said, giving Naomi a small smile. “If she hadn’t waved down that hiker on the trail, we wouldn’t have gotten to her so quickly. She knew what to do.”

Mrs. Halloway let out another sob and smoothed her daughter’s hair. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. We never should’ve gone out of town. We should’ve been here. We’ll never leave you alone like that again, I promise.”

Naomi wrinkled her nose at the fussing. “Mom…” she muttered, clearly embarrassed, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Before I could step away, there was a soft knock on the door. It creaked open slowly, but no one came in.

I turned, puzzled, only to find Micah peeking in. His dark eyes flicked to me before darting away again.

I gestured him inside with a nod. “It’s okay. Come on in.”

Micah padded forward, clutching something in his hands. As he got closer, I saw it was a handful of candy bars and a roll of mints.

“Those for your friends?” I asked gently.

He nodded.

I tipped my head toward Connor’s bed first. “Go on. Start with him.”

The moment Connor saw him, his face lit up, a big grin spreading across it. Micah climbed onto the edge of the bed and set the candy carefully on the table.

“Just one thing,” I said, raising a finger in warning. “No sweets until after you’ve all had breakfast. Deal?”

Micah scrunched his nose, but after a long pause, he gave a reluctant nod. With exaggerated care, he placed the rest of the candy on the bedside table.

Out in the reception area, I sank into the chair behind the desk and stared at the chaos waiting for me: paperwork, unfiled charts, half-finished reports. Stacks that had only grown higher since Devon left.

I rubbed a hand over my face. There was no way I had the energy to tackle any of it now.

With a sigh, I reached for my phone. Only an hour had passed since I’d left Dean’s place. Just an hour.

It felt like half the day had already dragged itself by.

I leaned back, closed my eyes for a moment. The muffled sounds from the room down the hall filtered through: the boys’ laughter, Naomi’s small voice soothing her mother’s tears.

The noises swelled and then faded again, leaving me in a strange kind of quiet. My thoughts wandered straight to Dean.

I remembered the way the morning had started. I’d woken up tangled against him, his arm heavy around my waist. I’d pressed back into his warmth, breathing him in, letting my fingers trail lazily across his chest.

When I’d nuzzled closer, I’d thought he was awake. He’d moved, after all, tightening his hold on me.

So I’d leaned in, whispered against his mouth, half-teasing, half-serious: one more round before I go?

He hadn’t answered, just shifted and let out a soft breath, lips parting under mine when I kissed him.

I’d deepened it, slow but hungry, imagining what it would be like if I didn’t have to leave, if I could wake him properly, slide my hand lower, coax him into rolling me beneath him, losing myself in the weight and heat of him all over again.

But then I’d realized he was still asleep. The pull I’d felt had been nothing but instinct, his body reaching for mine even in dreams.

I’d forced myself to slip free instead, pressing one last kiss to his temple before I left.

Now, sitting at the clinic, my chest tightened with the thought of what could’ve happened if I’d stayed, if I’d woken him on purpose.

The images came too easily: his mouth on my throat, his hands gripping my hips, the sound of his voice when he?—

A sudden thud jolted me back, rattling the counter beside me. My eyes flew open.

“Sleeping on the job?” Dean stood there, grinning, three paper cups balanced in a cardboard tray and a couple of brown paper bags tucked under his arm.

Heat rushed up my neck so fast I knew I was blushing. He didn’t say a word, but from the look on his face, it seemed he knew exactly what I’d been thinking about.

His grin was all the confirmation I needed.

I cleared my throat, trying to cover the flush. “What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering, Dean cocked his head. “Were you thinking about me?”

My ears burned. I ignored the question and started stacking loose files into a pile, pretending to busy myself with the mess.

Dean set the coffee down and leaned forward, close enough that I could feel his breath against my cheek. His scent curled into my nose, warm, grounding, and impossible to ignore.

The door to the patient room opened, and I nearly sagged with relief. Micah stepped out, and thank goodness, because a second longer of Dean leaning in, and I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done, whether to push him away or pull him down and kiss him.

Instead, I rolled my chair back from the desk and pulled Micah in front of me like a shield.

“Look, Micah,” I said, my voice a little too high-pitched even to my own ears. “Dean brought us breakfast.”

Micah frowned. “Why are you so red? Are you sick? And why are your hands so sweaty?”

Heat burned up my neck again. I tried very hard not to notice Dean grinning out of the corner of my eye.

Kids and their non-existent filters.

Usually, I had a snappy comeback ready for Micah, but not today. Instead, I wiped my palms on my pants, grabbed one of the brown paper bags, and peeked inside quickly before handing it over.

“Here. Dean got you a muffin,” I said.

A nudge against my shoulder made me look up. Dean was holding out another bag. “That one’s yours,” he said. “I got Micah a sandwich.”

Micah’s face lit up, and he snatched the bag out of Dean’s hand. I blinked, surprised that Dean had actually thought ahead, that he brought food for Micah too.

Micah’s attention shifted to the coffee cups on the counter. He leaned closer, eyes narrowing as he read the scribbles on the side. “Which one’s mine?”

Dean checked the cups, then handed one. “This one.”

“Thanks,” Micah said quickly, already shouldering his backpack. A second later, he was heading for the door.

“Hey! You can’t drink coffee!” I called after him.

“I’m late for school!” he tossed back without slowing down.

“Don’t worry,” Dean said easily, watching him go. “It’s hot chocolate.”

I turned to stare at him. Micah had been trying to steal my coffee since the first day he was tall enough to reach my mug.

The truth was, Micah liked the idea of coffee more than the taste. He wanted to drink it because his grandfather did.

Maurice downed his mug every morning without fail, and Micah idolized him too much not to want to copy the habit.

I’d tried reasoning with him, bribing him, even switching mugs when he wasn’t looking. Nothing had worked.

“When did Micah stop sneaking coffee?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“I told him it would stunt his growth. If he wanted to be big and strong like his grandpa, he should drink something else. He already liked the chocolate in your mocha, so I suggested hot chocolate instead,” Dean explained.

Words failed me. He’d done what I couldn’t. Micah had actually listened to him.

I rubbed the back of my neck, still thrown. “When did you two get so close?”

Dean thought about it for a moment, then that familiar grin spread across his face again. “I’ll tell you if you admit you were thinking about me earlier.”

I cursed myself for even opening my mouth.

The conversation had circled back again, right where I didn’t want it, and now Micah, my only excuse, was gone. Dean didn’t look like he planned on leaving anytime soon, either.

I lowered my voice to a sharp whisper. “So what if I was? I was mostly thinking about the bed because I’m tired. Anyway, don’t you have training to get to or something?”

Dean bent down and brushed the tip of my nose with his lips. “I missed you too,” he murmured.

Just like that, the edge of my irritation dissolved.

He straightened and continued, “No training until the afternoon. Griffin called me in last night for that emergency, so the schedule got shuffled. Which means I can hang out with you this morning.”

Before I could protest, he placed another brown paper bag in front of me and set down a cup. My mocha from the cafeteria.

I shook my head and gave in, taking the muffin from the bag.

He grinned even wider, clearly pleased with himself.

The rest of the morning passed faster than I expected. With Dean there, somehow the work that had been haunting me for weeks didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

He did whatever I needed him to. He fetched files when I asked, organized piles into neat stacks, even offered to alphabetize charts.

At one point, he held papers steady while I signed them, leaning his chin in his palm like he was perfectly content just being there.

I managed to finish all the filing and clear the easy admin work that had been stacking up since Devon left.

I even managed to squeeze in some reading from the healer journals I’d been ignoring.

Every so often, Dean would make a comment that made me laugh under my breath, or he’d brush against me when handing something over, his hand warm even through the paper.

It was ridiculous how much lighter the clinic felt with him inside it.

Eventually, my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“Guess we missed lunch.” I glanced at the clock. “You should head back, get some rest before your training with Griffin this afternoon.”

He shook his head. “I’ll eat with you, then I’ll head out.”

I chuckled, half exasperated, half fond. “You really don’t take hints, do you?”

Before Dean could reply, the clinic door swung open again. Griffin stepped inside. He scanned the room and relaxed slightly when he saw me.

“Good. You’re here,” he said without preamble. “Emergency call. A couple of our packmates got attacked by wild wolves near the western section of the forest. We need to get them out and stabilized fast.”

I was already moving, heading to the storage shelf for my healer kit. Behind me, I heard the click of Griffin’s bag opening.

It was his field pack, the one enforcers carried on emergencies. He was checking the contents quickly.

“I’m ready when you are,” he said.

I nodded, slinging the strap of my kit over my shoulder. From the counter, I grabbed a few bottles of water and a couple of granola bars. Light, easy-to-grab items I could hand off to the injured if they needed them.

“I’ll go too,” Dean’s voice cut in.

I turned to find him standing, posture steady, eyes sharp.

Griffin shook his head immediately. “You were on the search last night. You need rest.”

Dean crossed his arms. “I’m going.”

The silence that followed stretched tight. Griffin’s eyes flicked to mine, full of concern.

I knew what he was thinking. The western section had been unpredictable lately, dangerous even for seasoned enforcers. Dean was still in training.

If Griffin had his way, he’d send one of the veterans with me instead. Someone he could trust to keep me safe without question.

But I trusted Dean. He’d been to that area before, and though Griffin had torn into him last time for his reckless choices, I knew Dean could handle himself.

More than that, I knew he’d protect me if it came to it.

“It’s alright,” I said. “We can handle it.”

Griffin’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he reached into his pack and pulled out a folded map, handing Dean a spare field pack in the process.

“Last contact put them here,” Griffin said, tapping the paper. “Signal’s spotty in that section, so you’ll need to navigate by landmarks.”

I stepped closer, scanning the terrain. I didn’t need the map to know the markers; I’d trekked those trails enough times to recognize them by memory.

“If we cut through the creek here,” I said, pointing, “then follow the ridge, we’ll cut half an hour off the trip. The undergrowth is thick, but it’s manageable.”

Griffin frowned. “Or you could swing wide along the timber road. Longer, but safer footing.”

“We don’t have time for longer,” I countered. “If they’re hurt, every minute matters. Creek and ridge. It’s the fastest route.”

He held my gaze for a beat before finally nodding. “Alright. But stick to the ridge line, not below it. Wolves use the lower brush for cover.”

Dean had been quiet through the exchange, but when I glanced at him, he was already helping stuff supplies into my half-packed bag, tightening straps without being asked.

When everything was settled, Griffin’s attention returned to me. “Take care of yourself, Ethan,” he said, his voice soft, carrying a hint of worry I couldn’t miss.

Then his eyes cut to Dean, his voice hardening. “And you, don’t screw this up.”

Dean only gave a small nod, but I didn’t miss the flicker of seriousness in his eyes as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder.