Page 16 of Ethan (Pecan Pines #7)

Ethan

I reached for the other side of the bed and found it cold. My hand sank into the sheets where Dean should’ve been, and I frowned at the empty space.

He was up already? This early?

I’d lost count of how many nights I’d crashed here. Lately, it just made more sense.

Dean’s place was closer to the clinic than my own house, and the walk home at midnight had started feeling longer and longer after the days we’d been having.

The wild wolf problem had the enforcers running near-constant patrols, and with that came injuries.

Nothing too serious so far, but “mild” didn’t mean easy.

Patching up bruises, cuts, and sprains over and over, all day and half the night, wore on me.

Sometimes I wondered how much longer I could keep going like this. I’d already tried asking Cooper if Devon was coming back soon.

Cooper just said Devon was still handling his family problem and told me I was doing a good job.

A pat on the shoulder, a reassuring smile, but no real answer. And Devon still wasn’t answering his phone.

I wasn’t satisfied with that. I was running myself into the ground, trying to keep up with the clinic during the day and finishing paperwork late into the night.

That was how I usually ended up stumbling into Dean’s place too tired to care about appearances, just grateful for how close it was.

Not that there weren’t other perks.

I let out a quiet laugh and buried my face in the pillow, breathing in the faint mix of cedarwood and smoke that clung to Dean’s sheets. His scent grounded me in a way I hadn’t expected it would.

Somewhere beyond the bedroom, I heard him humming, followed by the clatter of dishes hitting the table.

My lips tugged into a smile before I could stop them. Of course, he was already making breakfast. I pushed myself upright and padded out of the bedroom.

Dean’s temporary housing wasn’t much. It was a modest unit on pack lands with just enough space for a living area, dining table, and a compact kitchen that only had a single electric plate, a microwave, and a fridge. But he’d already stamped his personality all over it.

His training schedule was tacked to the fridge, right beside a small thank-you note Micah had left him a few weeks back.

A little plant sat on the counter, the one we’d picked out at the supermarket the other day, its leaves stretching toward the light from the window.

And then there were the cups and utensils, which looked suspiciously like they’d been “borrowed” from the pack house cafeteria.

I raised an eyebrow at them but didn’t say anything. That one I was saving for later, in case I ever needed something to hold over Dean.

I rubbed at my eyes as I shuffled into the kitchen. “Morning.”

Dean perked up the second he saw me. He crossed the space with that easy grin of his and pressed a warm mug into my hands, leaning down to brush a quick kiss against my temple.

“You could’ve slept in a little longer,” he said.

I huffed quietly into the steam rising from the cup. He could’ve slept in too.

I wouldn’t even have woken up if the bed hadn’t gone so cold. But I kept my mouth shut.

The last time I said something like that, it had ended with both of us tangled up, late for work, and Griffin chewing us out for messing up the patrol schedule. I wasn’t about to repeat that.

So instead, I stepped aside and let him finish setting up the table. “You didn’t have to do all this. We could’ve just grabbed something from the dining hall.”

“Ah, well…” Dean’s voice trailed off.

He turned away a little too quickly, busying himself with bringing over a plate stacked with toast, eggs, and bacon.

My eyes narrowed. Not only did the plate itself look suspiciously like it came from the cafeteria, but so did the food on it. I took a sip of the coffee he’d given me, and the taste confirmed it.

“Did you sneak out early to get all this?” I asked.

Dean didn’t answer right away. Instead, he nudged the trash can further into the corner, like he thought I wouldn’t notice it overflowing with takeout cartons.

His pout gave him away before he mumbled, “Knew this’d probably be the only real meal you’d bother eating today…”

The corner of my mouth tugged up. Damn him.

I set my mug on the counter, caught his jaw in one hand, and pulled him in for a kiss. His pout turned into a soft sound against my lips, and I took advantage, biting lightly at his lower lip until he gave way.

I pressed him back against the counter, the height difference now tipping in my favor. My fingers threaded into his hair, tugging his head whichever way I pleased, and he followed without hesitation.

I could feel the smile tugging at his lips as I kissed him deeper, and the lazy slide of his mouth melted into mine until I forgot about the coffee, the paperwork, the exhaustion. Everything but him.

His hands found my waist, then slid lower, cupping my ass and pulling me flush against him. The gentle roll of his hips sent heat sparking through me, and I groaned into his mouth.

“Mm.” Dean’s voice was a husky whisper between kisses. “You want to go back to bed?”

For one dizzying second, I thought about it. About dragging him back to that rumpled bed, about losing myself in him instead of facing another long day at the clinic.

But reality intruded fast. Dean had an early patrol, and I needed to be at the clinic before the first enforcers returned from theirs.

With a reluctant sigh, I slid my hands down from his shoulders to his sides and pushed him back just enough to break the kiss. “Maybe tonight.”

He rested his forehead on my shoulder, breathing me in. Then he pressed a lingering kiss to the side of my neck, brushed another across the line of my jaw, and finally bumped his nose against mine.

“Tonight, then.”

When I pushed open the clinic doors, the front desk was empty.

Josh, the new temp night receptionist, wasn’t at his post. The chair sat pushed back, abandoned, which immediately put me on edge.

I scanned the lobby until I caught sight of Micah. He was halfway down the hall, peeking nervously around the corner toward the back corridor.

“Micah?” I called softly. “What’s wrong?”

He jumped and quickly pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for me to come closer.

Confused, I padded quietly across the lobby until I stood beside him. He flattened himself against the wall, and I followed his lead, leaning just enough to peek around the corner.

All the doors were shut except one: Devon’s office.

My heart lurched. He’s back?

Before I could process that, raised voices spilled into the hall. Muffled at first, but the anger in them was unmistakable.

One voice was loud, bristling with fury; another low, trying, and failing to calm him.

Shadows shifted on the wall. Then, suddenly, the door flew open, and Ben stormed out, his expression thunderous.

Devon followed a step behind, his hand raised in a placating gesture.

“I don’t know what the hell that guy did,” Ben snapped, his voice echoing down the corridor, “but Nick’s leg is not fine at all!”

“Ben—” Devon’s tone was even, steady. He angled himself slightly, steering Ben toward one of the examination rooms. “I’m sorry. Let’s take a look right now.”

I froze. Nick? Wasn’t he discharged almost a week ago?

I remembered checking him carefully before letting him go. He’d been able to walk. Not perfectly, but well enough.

Ben’s eyes suddenly landed on me. His face darkened further.

“What kind of healer are you? You didn’t even do the job right!” His voice cut sharp, each word flung like a blade.

“And where were you?” He spun back toward Devon, fury practically vibrating off him. “How could you leave someone like him in charge?”

The accusation hit harder than I expected. I swallowed, stunned into silence.

Devon’s gaze flicked to me, unreadable except for the faint edge of disappointment lingering in his expression.

He turned back to Ben, his voice calm but firm. “We’ll do whatever we can right now. I’ll personally see to Nick’s leg.”

A thousand thoughts crashed through my head.

What did I miss? Back when Nick was still under my care, I remembered triple-checking everything. I’d even kept him a day longer just to be sure he was fully healed.

I hadn’t been at my best then, I knew that, but had I really let something slip?

I took a step forward, trying to catch Devon’s eye, trying to move toward the examination room. But Devon lifted a hand and shook his head, telling me to stay put.

The urge to rush in and defend myself burned hot in my chest. But tangled with it was another instinct: a desperate need to dig through Nick’s file, to check the paperwork, to see if I’d written something wrong or missed a step.

A small sound tugged me out of my spiral. A whimper.

I looked down and realized Micah was still beside me, eyes wide and fearful.

Damn it.

I crouched to meet his gaze, forcing my voice to be gentle. “Hey.” I fished some coins from my pocket and pressed them into his hand. “Why don’t you grab yourself a snack, hm?”

He hesitated.

I pulled out my wallet and tucked a bill on top of the coins. I wasn’t even sure how much it was, but it didn’t matter.

“In fact, why don’t you get something for your mom too? Hang out with her for a while. My treat.”

He nodded, slung his bag over one shoulder, and slipped out of the clinic, the door shutting softly behind him.

Josh stepped out of Devon’s office with a stack of folders balanced in his arms.

His expression was neutral, but the polite smile he gave me as he passed felt too practiced, like he’d been waiting for an excuse to escape.

I tracked him as he dropped the folders onto the receptionist’s desk.

One by one, he slid them back into the cabinet behind. My eyes caught the names on the spines when he tilted them. Nick and Ben’s files.

My stomach dipped.

“Josh,” I said quietly. “You can head home for the day. I’ll handle the rest.”

Relief flickered across his face so quickly he didn’t even bother to hide it.

“Thanks, Ethan.” He was already grabbing his bag, out the door with a quick wave.