Page 15 of Ethan (Pecan Pines #7)

Dean

Ethan’s voice was steady, but there was a tension in it I didn’t miss.

“Lower him into that bed, gently,” he said, gesturing to one of the unoccupied cots in the clinic.

Ben and I moved in sync, careful as we eased Nick down onto the mattress. He was out cold, his shirt torn and blood soaking through the gauze Ethan had hastily wrapped around his leg earlier.

His skin was clammy, his pulse faint but there. Still hanging on. I caught the flicker in Ethan’s expression as he watched us. Not just concern, but guilt.

He’d already worked on Ben, stabilizing the worst of his injuries. His mouth tight, he locked his eyes on Nick like he was trying to will him back to consciousness.

“You good?” I asked, my voice low.

Ethan didn’t look at me. “I should’ve done better,” he muttered, brushing hair out of Nick’s eyes before checking his vitals.

I frowned. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re not a machine, Ethan.”

He still didn’t look up, just opened a drawer and pulled out antiseptic, gauze, and a clean set of gloves. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the room.

He was in full medic mode now, but I could see the way his hands trembled slightly before he steadied them. The way his shoulders hunched, like he was bracing for failure.

Ben hovered near the foot of Nick’s bed, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his whole body tense with worry. I understood it.

Nick had taken a pretty nasty hit from that wild wolf, but hovering over Ethan like a storm cloud wasn’t helping.

“Hey,” I said quietly, nudging Ben with my elbow. “Maybe give Ethan a little space. Let him work.”

Ben’s head snapped toward me, eyes flashing. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

The sharpness in his voice hit like a slap, and for a second, all my instincts flared. Anger first, then defensiveness, followed by the deeper, uglier feeling I still hadn’t figured out how to name.

I gritted my teeth and looked away, jaw tight. I got it. I did.

If it were Ethan in that bed, bleeding out and unconscious, I wouldn’t be calm either.

I clenched my fists and exhaled slowly, trying to shove my pride back into its box. No point starting something here. Not when Nick needed help.

A long silence stretched between us. Then, to my surprise, Ben scratched the back of his neck and muttered, “Sorry.”

I blinked.

“We’ve been out there for hours,” he went on, his voice softer now, almost sheepish. “And he was fine. Nick was fine, until we circled back to check on that scent trail. He told me to stay behind and I didn’t listen. If I had…”

“Don’t,” I said, cutting him off gently. “Don’t blame yourself. Those wild wolves came outta nowhere.”

Ben looked like he wanted to argue, but then his shoulders slumped. “Still.”

I nodded toward the sink in the corner. “Go clean up. You’re covered in blood. Ethan’s got Nick now,” I reassured him.

He hesitated, eyes lingering on Nick. But then Ethan finally glanced over and said, quietly, “He’s stable. I promise.”

That seemed to do it. Ben let out a breath and stepped away from the bed, heading to the sink with dragging footsteps. I stayed behind, watching Ethan work.

He was all focus again, cleansing the wound with swift, precise movements, stitching where he needed to, wrapping Nick’s leg with practiced ease.

The glow of healing magic started to bloom faintly beneath his palms, just enough to close the deeper tissue damage. Nothing reckless. Nothing that would wipe him out.

Still, I could see how pale he looked under the overhead lights. There were smudges under his eyes and a drawn tightness to his jaw.

I reached for one of the extra stools near the exam table and quietly pushed it closer to him.

“Sit,” I murmured. “Just for a sec. While you wait for the healing to settle.”

Ethan gave me a look. “I’m fine.”

“You’re tired. There’s a difference,” I pointed out.

He opened his mouth to argue but before he could, the clinic door swung open and Griffin strode in.

His presence filled the room instantly. Calm, controlled, all business.

“Dean,” he said, heading straight for me. “Update me.”

I straightened, stepping out of Ethan’s way. “We were tracking the scent trail west of the forest, near the hills when we found Nick and Ben. They were hiding under a bunch of rocks and bushes.”

Griffin’s brow furrowed. “Nick took the worst of it?”

“Yeah. Gash across the leg. Ethan patched him up as soon as we got back.” I said. “Ben had a few injuries, but nothing life-threatening.”

Griffin’s gaze swept the room, assessing everything like he was mapping it out in his head.

His eyes lingered on Ethan for a beat, long enough to take in the exhaustion radiating from him, then flicked back to me.

“And the wild wolves?” Griffin asked.

“Gone. Slipped away during the scuffle. But we’ve got scent markers. Next time, we’ll be ready,” I said.

Griffin gave a small nod. “Good. I’ll talk to Cooper and loop in the outer patrols. We’ll need to double down for the next few nights until we’re sure the threat is gone.”

He turned toward the door, then paused. “And Dean?”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“You did well out there,” Griffin told me.

It caught me off guard. I managed a short nod, swallowing whatever reflexive response wanted to crawl up my throat. I wasn’t used to praise from alphas. Especially not ones I respected.

“Thanks,” I said.

Griffin left with the same quiet efficiency he’d entered, and I turned back toward the exam table.

Nick looked a little better now. His color was returning, and his breathing had evened out.

Ethan stood beside him, fingers still brushing over the bandages with a gentleness that tugged something loose in my chest.

“You okay?” I asked softly, stepping beside him.

Ethan nodded. “He’ll be out for a few hours. But he’s going to be alright.”

The relief in his voice was subtle, but it was there. I could feel the edge of tension slipping off him, bit by bit.

“I meant you,” I said.

That earned me a glance. A tired, grateful kind of smile.

“I’ll live,” Ethan said.

He finally sank onto the stool I’d nudged over earlier, shoulders slumping forward a little.

“You were amazing,” I said, meaning every word.

Ethan snorted. “I almost passed out thirty seconds ago.”

“Still amazing.”

He looked at me for a long moment. Then he said, quiet and almost shy, “Thanks for being here.”

“I’ll always be here,” I said before I could think twice. “Especially for you.”

His eyes softened, and for a second, it felt like the chaos of the past few hours didn’t exist. Like it was just us again. Like it had been in my room that morning, wrapped in warm sheets and each other.

Ben returned, looking slightly cleaner and a lot less tense. “Nick okay?”

Ethan nodded. “He’s stable. Just needs rest.”

Ben crossed to the chair near the cot and sank into it with a heavy exhale. “Then I’ll stay with him a bit.”

Ethan nodded, and I turned toward the door.

“I’ll go grab us something to eat,” I said. “You’ll both feel better after.”

Ethan’s eyes met mine. “Thanks, Dean.”

Three days after the wild wolf attack, things finally started to settle again. Nick was healing. Ben was back on his feet, quieter than usual but steady.

Patrols were doubled, and no new scents had turned up on the border. For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe. And maybe ask a certain healer out to dinner.

I found Ethan outside the clinic, crouched near the herb garden Cooper had insisted on keeping alive even though most of the pack relied on modern medicine now.

Ethan had his sleeves rolled up and a smudge of dirt on his cheek as he sorted the herb cuttings into glass jars.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my tone casual.

He looked up, eyes bright despite the fatigue in the rest of him. “Hey yourself.”

“You busy tonight?” I asked.

“I’m always busy,” he replied with a sigh, but there was a tug of a smile on his lips.

I took that as a good sign. “Yeah, but are you busy enough to turn down dinner?”

He glanced toward the clinic doors, then back to me. “Nick’s been discharged. I was going to do inventory, but… dinner sounds better.”

I grinned. “Great. Let’s go before you change your mind.”

The pack cafeteria was loud, the way it always was around dinner, voices overlapping, chairs scraping, the occasional clatter of silverware against metal trays. But tonight, it felt different. Better and lighter.

Warmth settled in my chest as packmates greeted us with nods or waves. A few even called out, “Hey, Ethan!” or “Dean, save me some dessert!”

Ethan chuckled beside me. “You’ve made a name for yourself.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re saying I’m popular.”

“More like infamous,” he teased, brushing his arm against mine as we walked toward the food line.

“You wound me,” I said, mock-offended, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my mouth.

We filled our trays. Steak for me, roasted veggies and pasta for Ethan, and grabbed two slices of cherry pie before heading to a quieter table by the windows.

Outside, the sun was just starting to dip below the tree line, painting the sky in soft oranges and purples. Inside, the chaos of dinner faded as we sat down and dug in.

“How’s Nick doing?” I asked between bites.

Ethan chewed, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Healing well. He’s young, resilient. Still sore, of course, but the worst has passed.”

“And Ben?” I prompted.

Ethan nodded slowly. “Physically fine. Emotionally… I think he’s still rattled.”

I didn’t blame him. “He’ll be okay. He’s got people looking out for him.”

Ethan’s gaze flicked to me. “That include you?”

“Of course.” I paused, then added more softly, “That includes you too.”

His lips curled slightly, but he didn’t look away. “I know.”

We ate in silence for a few moments, just the comfortable kind, where words weren’t really needed.

Then Ethan leaned forward, frowning a little. “I’m worried.”

“About?” I asked.

“The wild wolves. Even with the extra patrols, they’re pushing closer. First the border. Now I’m worried they’ll even come after kids.”

I reached across the table and laid my hand over his. “We’re not letting it slide. I promise. Cooper’s got the enforcers running new drills. Griffin’s reinforcing the perimeter with fresh scent markers. We’re ready.”

He turned his palm so our hands aligned. “It’s not the pack’s readiness I doubt. It’s… what if it’s not enough?”

I squeezed his fingers gently. “Then we adapt. We fight smarter. And we lean on each other.”

His thumb brushed mine. “You make that sound easy.”

I gave him a lopsided grin. “I’m a simple guy,” I told him.

He snorted. “Debatable.”

We finished our meals and polished off the pie. Mine disappeared in three bites. Ethan took longer, savoring every bit of the tart filling. I watched his mouth with far too much interest.

When he finally set his fork down, I asked, “So. Dessert walk?”

“Dessert walk?” Ethan asked, raising one eyebrow.

“You know. A walk to digest dessert. It’s a thing. Very romantic,” I explained.

He rolled his eyes but stood. “Fine. But only if you promise not to try and race me to the tree line again.”

“No promises,” I said, standing up and brushing crumbs off my shirt. “I’m very competitive.”

The air outside was cooler now, the lingering heat of the day giving way to a crisp summer breeze.

The woods behind the pack house stretched out like a dark curtain, shadows deepening as the sun disappeared. Fireflies danced near the tree line, blinking like stars trapped just above the ground.

We didn’t speak for a few minutes, just walked shoulder to shoulder on the dirt trail that wound through the forest.

It wasn’t long before Ethan slid his hand into mine.

We stopped near a bend in the path where the moonlight slipped through the trees. I turned to face him.

“Ethan,” I said, voice low, “I’m not good at slow. I’ve never really known what it looked like.”

He tilted his head. “And now?”

“Now I’m learning.” I stepped closer. “Because you’re worth learning for.”

Ethan didn’t answer with words. He leaned in and kissed me.

It was slow, deep, the kind of kiss that sent warmth blooming through every inch of me. I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in, felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat against mine.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine.

“I like you, Dean,” he murmured. “I’ve liked you for a while.”

I smiled. “Yeah. I figured that out around the time you didn’t yell at me for sneaking coffee into the clinic.”

He laughed, soft and breathy. “That was awful coffee,” he said.

“It’s the thought that counts.”

He leaned into me again, arms circling my waist, and I held him close. The forest was quiet around us, the hum of crickets and rustling leaves the only sound. I wanted to stay right here forever.

But eventually Ethan said, “We should head back.”

I sighed. “Yeah. You’ve got herbs to dry.”

“And you’ve got training at the crack of dawn,” he pointed out.

We walked back slower this time, fingers still laced, hearts beating just a little bit lighter.