Page 6 of Ethan (Pecan Pines #7)

Dean

I was in a really good mood that morning. I couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. About the way Ethan had looked at me.

He must be tired from a full day managing the clinic and from his gig. And still, he’d taken the time to talk to me. To reassure me. Griffin and I are just friends, he’d said. Just friends.

I’d spent the rest of the evening high off those words, replaying them like my favorite song. I might’ve grinned like an idiot more than once.

Hell, Ethan had even offered to introduce me to some packmates after his set. Said he wanted to. That wasn’t something he did for just anyone, right?

That had to mean something. Even a little. So yeah, I was walking into the day with a spring in my step and maybe a little swagger in my shoulders.

I had a training patrol with Griffin in the western woods later, but first, I had a plan. Breakfast. And a coffee delivery.

The dining hall buzzed with early-morning chatter and the smell of eggs, toast, and something sweet baking in the back kitchen.

The line was already building, as usual. I was tempted to cut again, but just as I stepped toward the front, I caught a few familiar faces from last night. And they recognized me.

One guy nodded and gave me a casual, “Morning, Dean.” Someone else, Kate, I thought her name was, smiled and waved like we were old friends.

I blinked, caught off guard. Was this what being… liked felt like? A casual “morning” tossed my way, a wave, a smile, it was such a simple thing, but it hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

These were people I barely knew. People who didn’t owe me anything. And yet, here they were, greeting me like I belonged. Like I wasn’t a ticking time bomb or a walking disaster.

Back in Thornebane, no one said good morning. Heck, no one said much of anything unless it was a threat, an order, or a warning.

You kept your head down, watched your back, and prayed today wasn’t the day someone decided your position could be theirs if they just bared their fangs first.

You weren’t there to make friends. You were there to survive.

Every interaction was a power play, a challenge, a test. Even smiling at the wrong person could be seen as disrespect. Weakness. And weakness in Thornebane didn’t last long.

So to be standing here, nodding back at someone who smiled at me like I was just another packmate, not a walking cautionary tale… It felt strange. Disorienting. Good, but strange.

Like stepping into a warm room after living your whole life in the cold. I wasn’t used to it. Didn’t know what to do with it.

My instincts whispered to stay on guard, to question the motives behind every kindness. But something else was starting to whisper back. Maybe you don’t have to live like that anymore.

By the time I made it to the coffee machine, I knew exactly what I wanted: a mocha latte, with a reasonable amount of sugar this time. I stirred it carefully, taking a small sip just to be sure.

Sweet, but not tooth-rotting. Nailed it. Cup in hand, I made my way to the clinic.

I was already halfway picturing how Ethan would roll his eyes and tell me I didn’t have to keep bribing him. And then maybe smile. Maybe not kick me out right away.

Maybe flirt back, just a little. But the moment I stepped through the clinic doors, reality greeted me in the form of the most annoying kid I’d ever met.

Micah. Again.

He was sitting at the reception desk like he owned the place, feet swinging beneath the chair and a stack of markers and papers spread in front of him.

“Is Ethan around?” I asked.

Micah didn’t look up. “’Around.”

I waited.

“Okay… where?” I prodded.

Micah finally looked up, eyes narrowed. “You don’t look hurt.”

“What?” I asked.

He gestured at me with the attitude of a tiny grumpy old man. “This is a clinic. For hurt people. Are you hurt?”

I clenched my jaw. “Get lost, kid. I’m here to see Ethan.”

Micah crossed his arms. “You’re grumpy. And you smell like dirt.”

Before I could snap back, the little gremlin reached for the cup in my hand and took a sip.

“Hey. That’s not for you!” I leaned forward to snatch it back, but he pulled away, smirking with far too much satisfaction.

“No wonder it’s noisy in here.” The voice slid over me like silk and steel all at once. My head snapped up. There he was.

Ethan walked in from the back hallway, shirt wrinkled, dark hair pushed back with a lazy hand. His frown was aimed directly at Micah, though it didn’t lack warmth.

“Micah,” he sighed. “What did I say about drinking coffee?”

Micah shrugged, clearly unrepentant. “It’s sweet.”

“I don’t care if it tastes like candy. Your mom doesn’t let you have caffeine. You know that.”

I raised my hand. “It wasn’t for him. It was for you.”

Ethan glanced at me, brow twitching. “You brought me coffee again?”

“Yeah.” I gestured vaguely toward the rapidly vanishing latte. “Figured you’d want it.”

Micah grinned, dropped the cup on the desk, and bolted out of his seat like the little menace he was.

“That kid…” I grumbled.

Ethan’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t comment. He walked toward me, eyes sliding from my face to my hands, scanning for wounds.

His healer instincts kicked in even when he clearly didn’t see anything.

“You know only injured wolves come here,” he said, voice dry.

I grinned and held out my hand, palm up. “I got a paper cut.”

He blinked. “Seriously?”

I pointed to the faint red line along the crease of my finger. “Deadly. Could be infected. Might lose the whole hand.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched again. “You’re an idiot.”

“Not denying it,” I said with a shrug.

But then he reached out and cupped my hand gently, his fingers cool against my overheated skin.

A soft pulse of warmth spread from his palm, and I felt the tingle of healing magic slide beneath my skin. It was subtle. Gentle. Like sunlight over a wound.

And it wrecked me. My wolf pressed hard against the inside of my chest, snarling low. Not in anger, but in… something else. Something needy. Possessive.

Mine , it growled, and I had to grit my teeth to keep it in.

He was focused on the cut, eyes lowered, lashes brushing against his cheek. And he was smiling. Just a little. Like he didn’t mind this at all. I’d take that over any victory in the ring.

“Better?” he asked, glancing up.

Our eyes locked. Too close and too intense.

My throat felt dry. “Yeah. Good as new.”

He didn’t pull his hand away right away. Neither did I.

The tension between us stretched like a live wire, tight and sparking. The air felt heavier, scented with pine and warmth and the subtle pull of his magic still lingering on my skin.

“You really came all the way here for a paper cut?” he asked, voice softer now.

“I came here for you,” I said before I could stop myself.

Ethan’s brows rose, but he didn’t look mad. He looked curious.

“You always this forward?” Ethan asked.

“No,” I admitted. “You bring it out of me.”

He didn’t respond for a second. Just tilted his head, studying me with those bright green eyes like he was trying to see past every layer I kept hidden.

“I have to get ready for patrol,” I said, finally taking a step back. “But thanks. For the healing. And for last night.”

He nodded slowly. “Good luck out there.”

“Maybe when I get back, you can show me that herbal tea blend you talked about,” I said.

“That was for stress,” he said, smirking faintly.

I winked. “Exactly.”

His smile turned into a small laugh, and I turned before I could do something really stupid. Like pull him in by the waist and kiss him right there beside the front desk.

But even as I left the clinic and stepped back into the morning light, my wolf was still growling under my skin. Not angry. Just awake. And very, very certain. Ours.

By the time we hit the third ridge, I was sweating through my shirt and silently planning Griffin’s murder. The western edge of Pecan Pines territory was nothing like I expected.

It wasn’t soft woods and peaceful trails. It was all jagged hills, slick rock faces, and steep climbs that made my thighs burn and lungs scream.

We’d been hiking uphill for over an hour, and Griffin hadn’t slowed down once. Of course, he hadn’t broken a sweat either, the bastard.

I grunted and cursed under my breath as my boot slipped on a loose rock. “Are you sure we can’t shift for this?”

Griffin glanced over his shoulder, that infuriating calm expression on his face. “You’re new to the territory. Better to learn the lay of the land on two legs before you go charging through it on four.”

“Right. ‘So you can take it all in,’” I muttered, mimicking his earlier lecture. “Like I’m on some kind of nature hike.”

He smirked and kept climbing. I hated that I respected him a little. Not that I’d admit it.

By the time we reached the top of the next ridge, the trees thinned and opened into a clearing, and I finally understood why he dragged me up here.

A rustic-looking cabin stood nestled between tall pines, surrounded by open sky and jagged rock. From up here, the view of the territory was sweeping.

Layers of treetops stretching out like a sea of green, broken only by distant ridge lines and the occasional shimmer of water. It was quiet. Peaceful. Even I had to admit, it was nice.

Griffin nodded toward the cabin. “That’s Maurice’s place. Retired enforcer. Lives up here full-time. Keeps an eye on the western border. He also happens to be Micah’s grandfather.”

Before I could respond, the cabin door opened and a man stepped out.

Maurice looked like he’d been carved out of mountain stone. Older, gray at the temples, but tall and broad-shouldered, with eyes like flint and a posture that didn’t hint at retirement at all.

He was still wearing the kind of presence that made younger wolves straighten their spines without thinking.

Griffin greeted him with a nod. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Maurice said, voice gravelly but strong. His gaze turned to me. “This the new one?”

“Dean. Transferred in last week from Thornebane.”