Page 17 of Ethan (Pecan Pines #7)

And then it was just me.

The clinic always felt quieter once people left, but now the hush pressed down on me like a weight.

Even the soft hum of the lights and the faint antiseptic tang that usually kept me steady now left me feeling completely exposed.

Devon would want a word with me; that much was certain. Once he finished cleaning up whatever mistake I’d made this time, he’d call me in.

Part of me wanted to wait in his office, tucked away where no one else could see me. Safe. Hidden.

Was that cowardly? Probably.

The other option was to stay out here, in full view, knowing Nick and Ben would eventually walk by. They’d probably throw more comments about my supposed “inadequate healing skills.”

Better to take it head-on, I told myself.

If they were going to talk, then let them say it to my face.

I sat down at the desk and pulled the nearest file closer, though I barely registered the words on the page.

My eyes skimmed, but my mind kept spinning, replaying the morning like a bad song on repeat.

Half an hour dragged by. Each minute stretched thin, filled only with the faint rustle of paper and the steady thud of my heartbeat in my ears.

Finally, the exam room door opened.

Devon’s voice carried first, firm and even but weary. “No strenuous activity for the next week. Please remember to come back for a checkup so we can make sure you’re healing right.”

Ben stepped out, eyes immediately locking onto me. His glare was sharp enough to cut, the kind that said everything without a word.

Nick followed, hesitated for half a second, and gave me the quickest nod before darting his gaze away.

Devon let out a tired sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. I hadn’t seen him in almost a month, and he already seemed older somehow.

Maybe it was the strain at home, or maybe this morning’s incident had taken more out of him than I realized.

I shifted on my chair, not wanting to drag this out any longer than it had to be.

“So, what did I do wrong?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Devon shook his head, a flicker of weariness in his eyes. “You tell me. Start from the beginning. Every single thing. What you did, what you thought, how you felt. Don’t leave anything out.”

I blinked at him. “You want me to—what, narrate my whole week?”

“Yes.” His tone brooked no argument. “I need to know not just what you did with your hands, Ethan, but where your head was while you were doing it.”

So I told him. Everything I could remember. From the moment we brought Nick and Ben into the clinic to the second I left this morning. I didn’t skip over anything.

Not the herbs I used, not how shaky my hands had gotten by the third night, not even the ungodly amount of protein bars I’d been inhaling between healing sessions just to keep upright.

Devon listened in silence, but the more I spoke, the more his mouth pressed into that thin, disappointed line. The same one that had been there when I walked in.

And when he did it again, pursing his lips like he was holding something back, I snapped.

“Just tell me what I did wrong.”

He stood up straighter, forcing his voice into calm even though I could hear the edge beneath it. “What is the most important thing I’ve ever told you?”

I racked my brain, annoyed. Then it hit me. A healer’s first responsibility is to their own body.

I scowled. There had to be more than that.

I didn’t want some pseudo–Yoda lecture I’d have to decode for the next six hours. I just wanted him to spit it out already so I could get back to the mountain of work I hadn’t finished last night.

“You didn’t make sure Nick came back for a follow-up,” he said finally.

I blinked. “That’s it?”

Devon’s jaw flexed. “They went for a walk in the woods. Nick tripped. Took some pain meds. By the time he admitted anything was wrong, his calf was swollen.”

I threw my hands up. “I told them to take it easy! I told them to come in if there was a problem!”

“And in serious cases,” Devon reminded me, “you don’t just tell. You set a follow-up date. You put it on the calendar. You call the day before if you have to.”

My frustration boiled over. “They could’ve come in any time!

They knew I’ve been in this damn clinic twenty-four-seven!

You think I’ve got time to chase every patient around, asking if they’re free between the hours of three and five o’clock?

I’ve been drowning handling all this alone, plus with the enforcers doubling patrols?—”

Devon ran a hand over his face, clearly worn out. Pretty sure he was going to yell at me any second now.

And, hell, I realized, I’d been the only one yelling so far. Loud enough that someone outside must’ve heard.

Couldn’t deny it, though. Finally letting everything out felt weirdly cathartic.

Devon finally broke the silence. “I know you’ve been busy.

I know you’ve been healing every single scrape and stubbed toe that’s walked in here.

” His gaze flicked toward the shelves lined with salves and tinctures.

“But we’re not miracle workers. The pack doesn’t expect us to be.

Save the actual healing for when it matters. ”

“Save it for what, paperwork? Because that’s what most of my day seems to be.” The bitterness in my voice made me wince, but I didn’t take it back.

To my surprise, Devon didn’t deny it. “You’re not wrong. Being a pack healer isn’t just about patching wounds. Most of the time, it’s logistics. Records. Supplies. Making sure everything keeps moving.”

I scoffed. “Easy for you to say. When you were here, I was at your beck and call. Now I’m doing everything alone.”

Something sharp flickered across Devon’s expression. “Then why didn’t you hire someone to help? Or tell Cooper you needed backup?”

My mouth opened, then shut again. What was I supposed to say? That I didn’t know I could?

That I thought Devon was only gone for a little while, and asking for help would feel like admitting I couldn’t handle my own clinic for a few weeks?

My pride burned hot in my chest. I should’ve been able to handle it. I wanted to handle it.

I looked up, ready to argue, but the words caught in my throat when I saw Devon’s face.

I’d never seen him look like that at me before. For the first time, I could feel his patience thinning.

“You need to understand something,” Devon said, voice low but steady. “You’re going to be in charge soon. This”—he gestured around the clinic—“this was supposed to be a trial run for you. A chance to see how you’d do as head healer. When I leave, you’ll be the one running this place.”

It had to be a joke. Head healer? Me? Either I should be furious that I’d been tested without even knowing it, or laughing at the idea that I could ever fill his shoes.

Devon sighed. “Maybe this was my mistake. I should’ve explained more, given you time to settle into it instead of throwing you into the deep end.”

I could hear the regret in his voice, but all I felt was a sting in my chest.

He didn’t say it out loud, but I knew it anyway: he was disappointed in me.

I almost wished he’d just yell at me instead. Anything would’ve been easier to stomach than this quiet letdown.

“Go home for today,” Devon said quietly. “I’ll cover the clinic. Come back tomorrow, and we’ll talk again.”

My chest felt hollow. All I could do was nod.

The fight drained out of me all at once, leaving only the weight of exhaustion pressing down on my shoulders.

By the time I stepped outside, I wasn’t sure if I was more tired from the past few weeks or from realizing just how far I still had to go.