Page 14 of Ethan (Pecan Pines #7)

Ethan

Dean reached down, offering his hand as I scrambled up the slick slope.

The earth was damp, soft from last night’s rain, and my boots slid a little before I managed to grab his arm. His grip was warm and steady, pulling me the rest of the way up with barely any effort.

“You didn’t have to volunteer, you know,” I said, brushing mud off my hands. “You could’ve let Griffin come with me. He was clearly ready to go.”

Dean slowed his pace and glanced over his shoulder. I couldn’t help thinking he looked like a kicked puppy.

If he were in his wolf form, I could almost see his ears drooping, maybe even hear a pitiful whine.

Maybe joking about Griffin wasn’t the smartest move.

I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back a laugh. The more he showed me this soft, ridiculous side, the more I wanted to tease him, or do something reckless, like grab him by the collar and kiss him until he stopped making that face.

But giving in to every pout would be a mistake. Instead, I caught his hand and tugged him forward.

“Come on,” I said, picking up the pace.

The forest thickened around us, trees pressing closer together. I caught sight of a gnarled oak with a trunk twisted into the shape of an old man’s face, one I recognized from past patrols.

Sector Twelve. We still had a good stretch to go before reaching the site.

Dean broke the silence a few minutes later. “Still can’t believe you’re handling the entire clinic by yourself.”

I shook my head. “Not really. Devon usually runs things. I just help out.”

“Sure,” he said. “But these past few weeks? It’s been all you.”

I shrugged, though the words hit a little closer than I liked. “Honestly, most of the time there aren’t that many major injuries. Nothing I can’t handle.”

I shot him a pointed look. “Well, except for the sudden uptick in minor injuries lately.”

Dean only grinned, not looking the least bit guilty about the “excuses” that had brought him into the clinic before.

“The truth is,” I said, “the clinic works closely with the enforcers. Their training focuses on posture, technique, balance. The better they move, the fewer injuries we see. Cuts and bruises? They usually take care of themselves. It’s the major injuries we step in for.”

Dean tilted his head. “So it’s more like keeping them sharp so they don’t get hurt in the first place?”

“Exactly.”

Dean looked impressed, which made my chest puff up more than I’d like to admit.

So I added, with a smirk, “Which means when Griffin tells you to square your shoulders or put more weight on your back leg, you do it. Got it?”

Dean raised his hand in mock surrender. “I promise.”

“Good.”

We walked in companionable silence for a while, though I found myself glancing up at the canopy. The sunlight barely made it through, and the sky above looked heavy and gray.

Dean must’ve noticed the same thing, because he murmured, “We should pick up the pace. Storm’s coming.”

I nodded, lengthening my stride. The trail narrowed, forcing us to move single file.

Before long, both of us were panting, sweat dampening the backs of our shirts as the forest swallowed us in its dim, humid air.

Dean shook his head, still a little breathless. “I just can’t imagine how busy you must be. At least I got half a day off today, after everything last night.”

I cut him a sideways look. “Aren’t you working right now?”

He grinned, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Doesn’t count. I volunteered for this. I had the option. You didn’t. You were up at dawn, after spending half the night looking after those kids. And now here you are, trekking through the woods with me, no break in sight.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Part of the job.”

Except the truth was, I couldn’t wait until Devon came back. I’d thought he’d have returned by now, or at least checked in more.

It wasn’t like him to stay away this long without saying anything or letting me know what he thought of my work.

Most days I felt like I was just guessing. Was I doing too much? Not enough?

Usually it felt like the latter. And the guilt came fast whenever I even thought about clocking out on time, about joining Zack and Noah at Griffin’s bar like I used to. The last time I’d touched my bass felt like another lifetime.

I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up. But until Devon returned, the truth was simple: I was the only healer here.

That meant I had to take this seriously. No more late-night playing with the band, no more distractions.

At least for now. Devon wouldn’t really leave me hanging this long.

He’d come back soon. He had to.

“Hey,” I said, breaking the silence before I could sink too deep into my own head. “When Devon’s finally back, I might be able to get a day or two off. Want to make plans?”

That perked Dean up instantly. The sight made me smile.

“What do you want to do?” he asked eagerly. “Fishing? Hiking?”

“Absolutely not,” I said, deadpan. “No more outdoors. I just want to stay inside for an entire day and do absolutely nothing.”

Dean laughed and dug into his pack, pulling out his water bottle. He took a long swig before handing it over with a smirk. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

I arched a brow, taking the bottle from him. From the way he looked at me, I knew we weren’t picturing the same kind of “doing nothing.”

My idea was enjoying the air-conditioning in some hotel, greasy takeout, and binge-watching a terrible reality show until I passed out.

Dean’s was… well, obviously not that. But I didn’t exactly mind what was running through his head either.

I tipped the bottle back and took a drink, then handed it back to him. “Maybe order in some food too? Pizza?”

“I could really use one of those huge burritos right about now.”

My stomach growled loudly in answer, reminding me that the only thing I’d eaten today was breakfast.

“Let’s not talk about food,” I muttered, pulling the folded map from my pocket.

I double-checked the coordinates Griffin had given us, then scanned the tree line.

My eyes caught on the pale white face of a boulder up ahead, one we used to climb as kids. Relief loosened my shoulders.

“That’s our marker. Once we’re over that rock, we’ll need to start looking out for the couple,” I said.

Dean nodded, adjusting his pack. Despite the steep climbs and rough terrain, we’d made good time.

My legs ached and the smell of rain hung thick in the air, but it hadn’t felt as grueling as it should have. I wondered if it was the company.

With Griffin, I probably would’ve managed just fine, but the trek would’ve been filled with bickering and his endless nagging. With Dean, it was different. Lighter.

We climbed over the rock and dropped down on the other side, scanning the ground.

Dean and I exchanged a nod before splitting up, keeping a line of sight between us but widening the search.

It slowed us down, but it gave us a better chance of catching tracks or signs of movement.

A sharp whistle cut through the still air. My heart jumped.

I spotted Dean ahead, gesturing for me to come closer, and I moved quickly, keeping low. He was standing still, head tilted, sniffing the air.

“We’re close,” he said quietly.

I hesitated, unsure whether to call out the couple who’d been attacked.

If wild wolves were still nearby, drawing their attention could put us all at risk.

Then, just ahead, a flicker of light caught my eye, sunlight glinting off something metallic.

I reached for Dean’s sleeve and gave it a quick tug, before moving toward it at a jog.

The glint turned out to be a pocketknife, its blade reflecting the faint light. A man waved it weakly, trying to get our attention.

We closed the distance fast. Ben and Nick were crammed into a cluster of rocks and overgrown bushes, half-hidden.

If not for the flash of steel, we would’ve passed right by. Relief and dread hit me at once.

Ben’s face was pale, scratches ran across his arms and legs, one ankle twisted at a harsh angle.

Nick looked worse. His calf was split open by a deep gash, the leg bent in a way that made my stomach turn.

How they’d managed to escape the wolves like this was a miracle.

Questions could wait. Right now, every second counted. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, the storm drawing closer.

Dean dropped to a crouch, unslinging his pack and offering them water. “Drink slow,” he urged, his tone surprisingly gentle.

I knelt by Nick, forcing my healer’s instincts to take over. His skin was clammy, breaths shallow.

The blood loss was dangerous, and the broken leg was a mess. The gash had to be closed first.

I pressed my palms over the wound, letting my energy flow.

Heat rushed down my arms into him. The skin knitted together slowly under my touch, but after only a few seconds my vision began to swim.

The energy slipping from me was weaker than it should’ve been, thin and sluggish.

I grit my teeth. “Come on, just a little more?—”

“Ethan?” Dean’s voice was low, urgent. “You okay?”

I leaned back, pressing the heel of my hand against my temple. “I-I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Frustration boiled up hot in my chest. I’d done longer treks before, treated worse injuries after, and never faltered like this.

Sure, every healer had their limits, but not like this. My energy was draining too fast, fading before it should.

Then it clicked. The sleepless night, the skipped meals. The fact that all I’d had today was a muffin at breakfast.

No wonder I felt like my body was short-circuiting.

Shame twisted in my gut. I turned toward the others, forcing the words out.

“I can’t fully heal both of you,” I admitted. “I’ve stopped most of the bleeding, but I don’t have enough left for everything else. I can only heal one more injury. We’ll need to carry someone back to the clinic.”

Ben looked like he wanted to argue, shoulders squared, but he caught himself. The flicker of anger in his eyes dimmed to something wearier.

I must’ve been paler than I thought, because Dean pressed another bottle of water into my hands without a word.

I drank, letting the cool liquid settle my throat. My fingers trembled slightly on the bottle, so I just nodded in thanks.

Nick shifted upright with a wince. “What are our options?”

I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I can close your wound, stop the bleeding entirely, or I can mend the bone. I can’t do both out here. If I fix the break, the cut stays open. But it’s too risky, infection could set in. If I heal the wound shut, your leg is still too fragile to walk on.”

I looked between him and Ben. “Or… I can focus on Ben’s ankle instead. Get him walking. Then he and Dean can take turns carrying you back. Once we’re at the clinic, I can finish healing you. If not tonight, then tomorrow morning.”

The weight of my words hung over us. It wasn’t the solution anyone wanted, least of all me.

Dean broke the silence first. “What do you think we should do?” His voice wasn’t demanding, just steady.

I drew in a breath. “Patch up Nick’s leg with the bandages and heal Ben’s ankle completely.

It’s not perfect. There’s still risk, especially with Ben.

He’ll need to walk slow, not push too hard, but it gives us the safest shot at all of us making it back together.

” I swallowed. “That’s what I’d suggest.”

Ben exhaled, long and sharp, then nodded. “Alright. Makes sense.”

Nick gave a tired grin, even through his pain. “Yeah. Let’s just get out of here.”

I crouched by Ben and braced a hand over his ankle.

Healing surged through me, hot and heavy, and I felt the tendons shift, bones clicking back into place.

His relief was instant, a sharp gasp escaping him as the pain faded.

The strain rolled over me like a wave. I blinked hard, my chest tightening.

Dean had already stepped forward, hand half-raised like he meant to stop me.

I shook my head, hoping he’d take the hint. This, at least, I could do.

When I finally let go, I sat back on my heels, frustration curling bitter in my gut.

If I were stronger, I could’ve spread it out. A little here, a little there.

Enough to ease both of them. Devon would’ve found a way. But I wasn’t Devon.

We started back toward the pack house, choosing the longer route that wound along gentler slopes and firmer ground.

It made carrying Nick easier, though the forest pressed close around us, damp earth heavy in the air.

No one spoke much. The silence was only broken by the crunch of boots and the occasional hiss of Nick’s breath when they shifted him wrong.

Dean fell in step beside me and pressed something into my hand. An energy bar.

“Eat,” he said simply.

I tore it open, more out of obligation than hunger, chewing even as my stomach turned. Maybe if I got something in me, I could squeeze out more healing later.

“You did good back there,” Dean murmured.

The praise hit wrong. I let out a rough laugh. “Good? I could’ve done more. Should’ve. Devon would’ve handled both of them perfectly, without breaking stride.”

Dean frowned. “Would he? Even after last night with Naomi and Connor? You’ve been going nonstop. Do you really think he could’ve healed two serious injuries on top of all that?”

I chewed in silence, staring at the dirt path ahead. It took me a long time to admit the truth, the word leaving my mouth like a stone. “No.”

My chest ached with more than exhaustion. Our pack had two healers. I’d been grateful, sure, but only in the abstract. Some safety net I never thought to question.

I took it for granted, never really imagining what it would be like to hold all of it alone.

Dean’s voice was steady, grounding. “You did enough. We’re all walking back together. That’s what matters.”

Before I could answer, Ben stumbled, almost pitching forward with Nick’s weight.

Dean moved instantly, shouldering the load with an ease that made Ben grit his teeth in embarrassed gratitude.

As we went on, Dean started asking questions about the wild wolves, the attack, and the tracks we’d seen.

I couldn’t help notice the change in him. He was listening, piecing things together. Learning.

And me? I was furious with myself. Not for any single mistake, but for overextending, for ignoring my own limits and letting it get this far.

Devon’s voice echoed in my head: a healer’s first responsibility is to their own body . If I fall, the pack falls with me.

I hadn’t listened. Not really.

Now I knew better. I had to be better.

Devon was only gone for a few weeks, but what if it stretched longer? What if next time it was worse?

I saw Ben’s face in my mind again, the disappointment from earlier when I’d admitted my limits clear in his expression. That can’t happen again.