Page 2 of Ethan (Pecan Pines #7)

Ethan

My computer purred quietly in the background as I sifted through treatment logs. The familiar, rhythmic scratch of Devon’s pen from across the room was the only other sound.

That was until a sharp shout pierced the quiet outside, followed by a loud crash and the unmistakable shatter of glass.

I froze mid-typing, my head snapping up. The noise was too loud to ignore. It sounded like it came from the pack house’s main building.

I glanced over at Devon, who was sitting at his desk, casually sipping his coffee while circling something in the newspaper in front of him.

Spot the Difference , I realized with a flicker of irritation.

“Didn’t you hear that?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Hmm?” Devon didn’t even bother looking up, his pen drifting lazily to circle yet another discrepancy on the page.

“Aren’t we supposed to, I don’t know, check it out?” I gestured vaguely toward the door, my tone sharpening. “You know, help?”

He finally looked up, though only to give me a look that said, Let me finish this first .

I shrugged. Well, if Devon didn’t seem like he wanted to do anything about it, I didn’t mind.

Maybe I could pack up early, meet Noah and Zack to talk about rehearsal for our gig at Griffin’s… see if we could squeeze in a few more practice sessions.

Before I could press further, the office door creaked open. Cathy walked in, gripping her son Micah’s shoulder.

Her face was pale, her movements jittery. Micah, on the other hand, seemed more focused on patting his mother’s hand.

“I—I don’t know what’s going on,” Cathy stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush. “There was this fight, and they were going at it?—”

“What happened? Is everyone okay?” Devon asked, finally setting his pen down.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. He can get his head out of the damn paper when he feels like it, apparently.

“Yes—no—I mean, Cooper asked for a healer,” Cathy managed, her grip on Micah tightening.

I shot Devon a sharp look, trying to gauge his reaction. He didn’t look surprised. If anything, there was a faint knew-this-was-coming look in his eye as he gestured toward me with his pen.

“Ethan, you should go.”

Of course. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, biting back a retort.

This wasn’t the first time he’d passed something important onto me like it was beneath him. In fact, he’d been doing it a lot more lately, and it wasn’t even subtle anymore.

Wasn’t he the head healer? My irritation bubbled hotter as I tried not to think about why he’d been acting like this recently.

“Ethan?” Cathy’s uncertain voice broke through my thoughts.

I exhaled, pulling my mind back to the moment. “Micah, you all right, kid?” I crouched slightly to meet his eye level, my voice softer.

Micah nodded quickly, his small face tight with determination.

“Good.” I nodded back. “Stay here with Devon for a bit, okay?”

Micah hesitated, his eyes flicking to his mom for approval, but I was already ushering him toward Devon’s desk.

“Here, sit beside him,” I instructed, ignoring Devon’s mildly surprised blink as he scooted over to make room.

“You can help him with this,” I added, gesturing to the newspaper. “See this? Right here,” I said, pointing to the spot where Devon’s pen hovered, circling the difference between a missing tree branch on one picture and an intact one on the other.

Devon scowled. “That was the last one!”

I patted Micah on the shoulder. “Keep him on his toes, kid,” I said lightly before turning back to Cathy, motioning for her to lead the way.

As we stepped out of the clinic, I threw one last glance over my shoulder at Devon.

He was half-slouched over the paper again, muttering under his breath as Micah pointed at the page.

The reluctant set of his mouth almost made me grin. The scene was oddly satisfying, but I shoved the thought away as Cathy guided me toward the pack house.

“So what exactly did happen?” I asked Cathy as we hurried toward the main building.

“I’m not entirely sure. Cooper was meeting with some wolves from Thornebane, and then—” She shook her head. “One of them just… started fighting with Griffin. It all happened so fast.”

My jaw tightened. Thornebane wolves with Cooper?

That alone sent a spike of unease down my spine. Their pack’s reputation preceded them, a volatile mix of chaos, aggression, and self-serving politics.

Sure, there were exceptions. Wolves like Remy, who’d built a decent life here in Pecan Pines.

I’d even heard a couple of good things about their new alpha. But as a pack? Thornebane brought trouble wherever they went.

My mind flicked to the disaster at the regional pack summit months ago. The memory was enough to make my hands curl into fists as I walked.

What the hell is Cooper thinking, bringing them here?

We turned the corner, and the aftermath of the fight stopped me in my tracks. The corridor leading to Cooper’s office looked like it had been hit by a hurricane.

Picture frames lay shattered on the floor, their jagged glass glinting in the light.

A table lay splintered against the far wall, and the wood-paneled walls bore deep gouges, some with fist-sized holes that looked like someone had tried to punch straight through them.

Griffin was leaning against the wall near the carnage, one hand pressed against his ribs. My chest tightened.

“Griff, are you all right?” I asked, rushing to his side.

He gave me a half-smile. “I’ve had worse,” he muttered, his voice tight with pain. “Though I’d be better if people stopped using me as a damn punching bag.”

I snorted despite myself. “Hold still. Let me take a look.”

Before I could start, Cooper’s voice cut through the tension. “Ethan.”

Cooper nodded toward the opposite wall, where another shifter was leaning heavily, his arms crossed over his chest. It was one of the Thornebane wolves.

The shifter’s eyes found mine. He didn’t look guilty or regretful in the slightest for the trouble he’d caused.

Even after a moment, he didn’t look away. I frowned. Between his attack on Griffin and nearly destroying half the pack house, I didn’t have the patience to figure out why.

I turned back to Griffin, trying to shove the knot of frustration in my chest out of the way.

“Hold on,” I muttered. One problem at a time.

Dean Winslow .

Just reading the name made my blood pressure rise.

Dean lay on one of the clinic beds, his shirt discarded, and his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

The faint bruises forming along his ribs and the swelling around his left eye told the story of just how bad the fight had been, and it was clear who lost that fight.

I glanced at the clipboard in my hands, scanning for the injuries Cathy had listed. I exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of the duty pressing on my shoulders.

It’s my job. That’s all this is: heal him and move on.

But the resentment still bubbled under the surface. I didn’t want to help him. Not after what he’d done to Griffin, not after the damage he’d caused.

But this wasn’t about what I wanted. It was about doing what was right for the pack.

Dragging my feet, I approached the bed, setting the clipboard aside. My fingers hovered over the bruised ribs for a moment before I placed my palm gently against his skin.

Closing my eyes, I reached inward, drawing on the familiar energy from my core. It was like pulling from a deep well, the warmth spreading down my arm and into my fingertips.

The energy poured into Dean’s ribs, a golden flow that seeped into the damaged tissue and began to knit the fractures back together. I felt the faint tug of resistance—a sign the damage was severe.

Devon would’ve been able to heal him completely, but he was tied up in a meeting with Cooper.

I pushed my frustration aside and focused on stabilizing the worst of the damage, feeling the strain as the energy flowed through me.

My hands moved instinctively, sliding upward to the cut on his lip. The flow of energy followed, stitching the torn skin as I worked.

His lips were rough but full, a detail I shouldn’t have noticed but did. I swallowed hard, pushing down the odd awareness bubbling up.

Next, I placed my hand near his swollen eye, the bruising angry and dark.

My energy flowed again, the golden warmth softening the swelling. I couldn’t stop myself from remembering the other eye I’d caught earlier, a piercing shade of blue.

My gaze flickered to his jawline. Sharp. Defined. My fingers hovered, hesitant, before brushing against his hairline to clear strands of his messy black hair from his forehead.

The strands felt soft against my skin. I froze.

What the hell are you doing?

Snapping myself out of it, I pulled my hand back and turned to the supply tray at the bedside. I grabbed the bandages, thick enough to secure his ribs and hold the mending fractures in place.

Carefully, I wrapped them around his torso, keeping the pressure firm but not tight enough to hurt.

“There,” I muttered, tying off the bandage.

His breathing had evened out, and his body seemed to relax, but I couldn’t say the same for myself.

This wasn’t just about Dean or his reckless fight. It was what he represented. Trouble. Trouble that I didn’t want seeping back into Pecan Pines.

The scars of the past were still there. A lot had changed since Ryder’s rule, but the memories could still hit me if I let them.

He had taken power fast, overthrowing Cooper’s father and turning the pack upside down.

Overnight, our home felt more like a prison. Fear ran everything, and anyone who resisted paid the price.

I remembered how it felt to be a kid back then. The constant knot in my stomach, the way the adults whispered behind closed doors, always glancing over their shoulders.

When I first started showing signs of being a healer, Colton and Griffin had shielded me from notice.

Griffin, just a scrawny kid himself back then, had stood in front of me when another pack member’s suspicious gaze lingered too long, his fists clenched and his stance rigid.

Colton warned me later, “Never let anyone see unless you trust them. You hear me?” His eyes, so serious for someone so young, had burned that lesson into me.

It was different now. Cooper’s leadership had brought a stability I didn’t even know was possible.

He’d rebuilt the pack, not just physically but emotionally, too. There was no longer a shadow looming over every conversation, no more constant fear of stepping out of line.

I wasn’t about to let anything—or anyone—jeopardize that. Especially not a wolf from Thornebane.

Dean’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Aren’t you being a little rough with me?”

I didn’t look at him. My hands moved automatically, tightening the bandage around his ribs with just enough pressure to hold but not enough to cause more pain.

“It’s a healer’s job to make sure the patient receives proper care,” I replied, my voice clipped.

I could feel his eyes on me, watching intently. It made my skin prickle with an awareness I didn’t want to acknowledge.

My fingers stilled for a moment before I forced myself to move again, tucking the end of the bandage securely.

“Done,” I said, stepping back and still avoiding his gaze. The sooner I could put some space between us, the better.

The door swung open, and Cooper strode in. His jaw was set, his movements precise and deliberate as he stopped at the foot of Dean’s bed.

His gaze flicked briefly to me, then settled on Dean.

“Dean,” Cooper began, his voice measured. “Given the incident earlier, I don’t think this arrangement is going to work. You’re free to return to Thornebane.”

Dean tensed, and it looked like the words had hit him like a physical blow. He tried to sit up, his hand clutching his bandaged ribs as he winced.

“Wait, please,” he said, his voice tight with desperation. “Please, just… just give me another chance. I can prove myself.”

“You’ve already proven you can’t control yourself,” Cooper said firmly. “This pack has no place for rash behavior.”

Dean shook his head, breath coming faster. “It won’t happen again, I swear. I just—” He broke off, curling his hand into the sheets as he struggled for words. “I need this.”

I watched him, hands hovering near his shoulder as he tried again to push himself upright.

“You need to calm down,” I said sharply, pressing his shoulder back against the bed.

He resisted for a moment, then slumped under my touch, movements strained and jerky.

“I can do better,” Dean continued, voice cracking. “I will do better. Please. Just one more chance.”

His eyes, wide and pleading, darted to Cooper, who remained impassive.

Cooper didn’t respond right away. His gaze bore into Dean, scrutinizing every word, every gesture.

For a moment, I thought he’d double down and send Dean packing. Then his expression shifted, softening just enough to let a flicker of leniency show through.

“Fine,” Cooper said at last. “One more chance. But if there’s even a hint of trouble, you’re out. No arguments, no second appeals.”

Dean exhaled sharply, his body sagging back into the pillows.

Relief and exhaustion warred on his face, and I found myself studying him, an unwelcome pang of sympathy blooming in my chest.

Cooper turned to me, voice brisk. “When he’s ready, show him to his room. I’ll have it prepared.”

I nodded, watching as Cooper left without another word.

Dean lay there, arm draped over his eyes. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The silence stretched until I finally broke it. “Why do you want to train as an enforcer here anyway?”

He shifted slightly, slow and tired. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said, words heavy with weariness. “Being in a pack like Thornebane. Things might be a little better now with Carter, but…” He trailed off, exhaustion palpable.

I stared at him, jaw tightening. “I know exactly what that’s like,” I said, voice sharper than I intended.

The memories of Ryder’s reign crept back, pressing against my chest.

I pushed them aside and turned toward the metal tray holding the bandages and supplies, the instruments clinking softly as I cleared them.

When I looked back, Dean hadn’t moved. His arm still covered his eyes, but a faint, tired smile tugged at his lips.

“I’m just glad I made it,” he mumbled, so softly I almost didn’t catch it.

A flicker of something I couldn’t quite name stirred in my chest.

Relief? Maybe even a sliver of happiness for him. But I quickly dismissed the idea, irritated at the realization that I’d be seeing more of him.

Still, even as I grabbed the tray and moved toward the door, I found my gaze lingering on him, just a second longer than necessary.