Page 9 of Ethan (Pecan Pines #7)

Dean

The dining hall was loud. Too loud for someone trying to think about banana and mayonnaise.

Specifically, the banana and mayo sandwich Ethan had made me earlier this afternoon. It had tasted like home.

The moment I bit into it, I thought of Carter, of late nights back in Thornebane when we were half-starved from training and raided the fridge like feral raccoons.

And Ethan… Ethan had made it for me. Because I’d mentioned I missed home.

He hadn’t teased me. He hadn’t asked dumb questions. He just made me something that tasted like a memory and shoved it into my hands like it wasn’t a big deal.

He was prickly. That had been my first impression of him. He was sharp-eyed, snarky, hard to read. But underneath it, there was something warm. Something careful. Steady. Sweet.

And it was driving me crazy.

I stabbed my fork into my mashed potatoes, my tray sitting in front of me on an empty table I barely remembered sitting at.

The entire hall buzzed with shifter voices, laughter, the clatter of trays and boots. None of it registered.

All I could think about was Ethan’s tired smile and the way his fingers had lingered a second too long on mine when he handed me that stupid sandwich.

“Dean!”

I didn’t hear it at first.

“Dean!” A louder voice. Then a wave. Griffin, from across the room.

He was sitting at one of the long tables, half-finished plate in front of him, eyebrows raised as he motioned me over again. A few wolves glanced my way as I stood up, tray in hand.

I made my way over and sat down across from him.

“Saved you a spot,” Griffin said, casually. “It’s usually crowded at this hour.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, suddenly self-conscious. I didn’t think anyone would’ve noticed I was sitting alone, but apparently, someone had.

Griffin took a sip from his water bottle, then tilted his head. “You were really spaced out just now. You good?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Just… thinking.”

His brows twitched, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Looking for someone?”

I looked up, caught mid-scan of the room. Dang it.

“I wasn’t?—”

“Ethan usually eats at the clinic,” Griffin said smoothly, like it was no big deal. “He gets stuck with late-night patients. Kids. Elder wolves. Whoever doesn’t heal right on their own.”

I flushed and stabbed at my mashed potatoes again.

“I wasn’t looking for Ethan,” I muttered.

“Really.”

I didn’t answer. Griffin chuckled under his breath and took another bite of his food.

After a minute, he leaned forward slightly. “Listen… about yesterday.”

I glanced up, surprised at the shift in his tone.

“You don’t have to…”

“No, I do.” Griffin frowned. “I jumped to conclusions. I should’ve handled it better. You were new. You were trying. I was?—”

“You were right,” I cut in.

He paused, eyes searching my face.

“I was reckless,” I said, voice lower. “And I was only thinking of myself. About proving something. I put you and Maurice at risk. That was on me.”

Griffin blinked. For a second, he looked genuinely surprised. Then he nodded. “That takes guts to admit.”

“I’ve got guts,” I muttered. “Just not a whole lot of brains, apparently.”

He smirked. “Hey, you’re learning.”

After dinner, I headed back to my room, my limbs pleasantly sore from the training earlier and my stomach full.

I showered, then flopped onto my bed in just sweats, hair still damp, and exhaled into the silence. It was just starting to get dark outside when my phone lit up with an incoming call.

Carter. I groaned but answered anyway.

“What now?” I demanded.

“Nice greeting, baby brother,” Carter said, deadpan. “Heard you picked a fight with a pack of wild wolves and had to get rescued.”

I rolled my eyes and flopped onto my back. “News travels fast.”

“When it involves you, it always does,” Carter said.

I rubbed a hand over my face. “Look, I’m fine. I didn’t die. Maurice and Griffin handled it.”

“Dean.”

There was a pause.

“You don’t have to force yourself to stay there, you know,” Carter said quietly. “There’s still a place for you in Thornebane. We could work things out. Together.”

I stared at the ceiling.

“My wolf still won’t acknowledge you as alpha,” I said. “It’s not personal. It’s just… instinct.”

“That’s the problem,” Carter said. “If I didn’t give a damn, I’d let it go. But you’re my brother. And it’s killing me that you think you’re better off away from me.”

“It’s not about what I think,” I said, voice hoarse. “It’s about what keeps the pack stable. What keeps you safe. If I stayed, I’d divide it.”

Silence hummed over the line.

“I agreed to come to Pecan Pines because I wanted to help. But also because…” I hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “Because I think I have a reason to stay now.”

More silence.

Then Carter’s voice turned sly. “Oh? And does this reason have a name?”

I didn’t respond.

“I knew it,” he said, triumphant. “You met someone.”

“Carter…”

“Is it that healer? The one you mentioned before?” Carter asked excitedly.

“Would you calm down?” I demanded, worried the walls were thin and my next door neighbour might hear.

“I won’t! I’m emotionally invested now,” Carter said.

I groaned into the phone. “I don’t know exactly what this is yet, but I know he’s important.”

Carter was quiet for a beat. Then, “You’re serious.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I am.”

“I didn’t think I’d see the day,” Carter remarked.

“Don’t make it a thing,” I pointed out.

Carter chuckled. “Alright. So? What’s he like?”

“Snarky,” I muttered. “Annoying. He’s always scowling at me. He thinks I’m an idiot.”

“But you like him,” Carter pointed out.

I closed my eyes and smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

“So what’s the problem?” Carter demanded.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted. “He made me a sandwich when I said I was homesick. Banana and mayo. Like the ones you used to make.”

Carter let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s weirdly romantic.”

“I know,” I muttered.

A pause.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m an expert on romance,” Carter said grandly. “Want advice?”

I rolled my eyes but said, “I was hoping you’d offer.”

“Tell me everything. And I mean everything.”

I gave him the rundown. Our first awkward meeting, the healing, the coffees, the patrol with Griffin, all the way to the sandwich.

Carter listened without interrupting, though I could practically hear him grinning through the phone.

“You’re coming on strong,” Carter said when I finished. “And I get it. You’re a wolf. You feel things hard. But if he’s not a shifter, or even if he is and just isn’t used to that energy, it can be a lot.”

I sighed. “So what? I should back off?”

“Not back off. Just slow your roll a little. Give him space to breathe. Let him come to you too. Otherwise, he might feel like you’re trying to bulldoze him into a connection,” Carter said.

“That’s hard,” I groaned.

“I know,” Carter said, not unkindly. “But if he’s worth it, it’ll be worth the wait.”

I lay in the quiet of my room, staring up at the ceiling again.

He was worth it. Every awkward word, every failed coffee, every rough moment where I didn’t know how to be the version of myself I wanted to be. He was worth all of it.

“I’ll try,” I said softly.

Carter laughed. “That’s the best I can ask for.”

“Thanks, big bro,” I said.

“Anytime, little idiot.”

I ended a call with Carter smiling.

I woke up with sunlight slanting through the blinds and the vague sensation that I was already behind on something.

My internal clock buzzed with mild panic until I remembered: I didn’t have training with Griffin for a couple of hours. Miraculous.

Stretching, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, the cotton blanket twisted around my legs. My body still ached from yesterday’s drills, which was nothing new.

What was new was the stupid grin tugging at my mouth.

Ethan. I groaned and dragged a hand down my face, hoping that would scrub the thought of him from my brain. It didn’t.

Instead, all it did was bring up the mental image of that banana-and-mayo sandwich, the soft smile he gave me when I told him it reminded me of home.

That almost gentle look he got when I wasn’t being a complete disaster. He’d been nice to me. He hadn’t had to be. That counted for something.

I tossed the blanket off, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and stood, stretching until my spine cracked. A cup of coffee sounded good. Real good.

I grabbed my hoodie, shoved it over my head, and slipped on a pair of boots. Maybe I could grab two, one for me, and one for Ethan.

But then Carter’s voice crept in like a cold draft under the door.

“You come on strong. Give him some space to breathe.”

I frowned, hand hovering over the doorknob.

Right. Carter had a point. I’d been all over Ethan the past few days. Hovering. Showing up. Flirting like a dumbass with zero game. And Ethan hadn’t exactly invited it, had he?

I sighed and leaned against the door, pressing my forehead to the wood.

Still, it didn’t feel right not to do anything. There had to be a middle ground between smothering and disappearing completely.

Then I remembered something Ethan had said once, in passing. A throwaway comment while he bandaged a teen’s twisted ankle and drank from a plastic cup with a fading label.

“This is nothing like Vanilla Bean. Now that’s coffee.”

Vanilla Bean. The tiny café downtown.

I straightened.

If I wasn’t showing up at his clinic again with mediocre pack house coffee, but instead getting him something he actually liked, something he’d mentioned himself, then it wasn’t pushy.

It was thoughtful. Casual. Stealthy even. Yeah. I’d just drop it off. No big declaration. No hearts and flowers.

I’d ask someone else to deliver it. It didn’t have to be from me. Problem solved. I checked the time. If I left now, I could make it to town, grab the drink, and be back just in time for training.

Feeling almost smug, I pocketed my wallet and headed out.

Thirty minutes later, I was standing in a ridiculously long line outside the cafe, glaring at the back of a teen’s head in front of me while he recorded some kind of vlog about seasonal flavor rotations.

“Why are you all here at 8 a.m.?” I muttered under my breath.

The woman in yoga pants behind me snorted. “Because it’s Saturday. And we’re all caffeine-starved addicts.”

Fair enough. Still, this felt excessive. I looked at the winding line ahead and groaned. I considered backing out at least four times.

My wolf hated the wait, restless and twitchy under my skin. My human side wasn’t thrilled either. But then I remembered Ethan’s offhand comment.

The rare softness in his voice when he talked about how the barista knew his name, how the drink was just right, how the café smelled like cinnamon and cardamom and roasted almonds.

The line crawled.

By the time I got to the counter, I was sweating under my hoodie and vibrating with impatience.

“What can I get you?” the barista chirped.

“Caramel cold brew,” I said, leaning in. “With a hint of cardamom. Splash of oat milk.”

The barista raised an eyebrow. “Ah. The Ethan Special.”

I blinked. “That’s actually what it’s called?”

“He’s a regular,” she said with a grin. “Good taste.”

Yeah, he did.

I was very late by the time I got back to the pack house, and panic buzzed under my skin. Griffin would probably chew me out again. I really couldn’t afford to miss more sessions.

I’d already overslept twice this week. The last thing I needed was Griffin calling me unreliable again.

I bolted inside, nearly colliding with two wolves coming out of the cafeteria, and started asking around.

“Anyone seen Micah?” I asked a group of teenagers loitering by the stairs.

“He was at the front desk earlier,” one of them said.

I jogged to the clinic, only to find it empty except for a cheerful woman behind the counter.

She gave me a polite smile, then said, “Micah said something about the garden. He’s probably playing near the south end.”

Perfect. I doubled back, rushed down the back steps, and finally spotted him crouched beside a planter box, poking at the soil with a stick like it had insulted him.

“Hey, squirt,” I called out.

Micah looked up, unimpressed. “You again.”

I walked up and crouched beside him. “I’ve got a job for you.”

He arched a brow like a tiny mob boss. “What kind of job?”

I held up the cup. “Get this to Ethan. It’s from that café he likes.”

He stared at it, then me. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’ve got training. Griffin’s gonna skin me alive if I’m late again. Just do me a solid, alright?”

Micah held out a hand. “Ten bucks.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You want me to walk this all the way up to the clinic? Make sure it gets there while it’s still cold? That’s labor,” Micah explained.

My mouth fell open. “You’re extorting me?”

Micah shrugged.

I groaned, dug into my wallet, and held out a ten-dollar bill.

He looked at it. Then said, dead serious, “Twenty.”

“You little—” I broke off, sighing.

I checked my wallet again. “I’ve only got fifteen.”

Micah considered. “Fine. But next time it’s twenty.”

We shook on it, and I handed over the coffee. “Don’t drop it. And don’t sip it. I mean it.”

“I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve got a crush. It’s embarrassing.”

Before I could respond, Micah trotted off with the cup like he was on a diplomatic mission.

I watched him go, then took off in the opposite direction, sprinting toward the training yard like my life depended on it.

By the time I reached the clearing, Griffin was already warming up, his shirt off and glistening with sweat. He looked up, narrowed his eyes, and barked, “You’re late.”

“Yeah,” I panted, bending over with my hands on my knees. “But for a good reason.”

“You better have been putting out a fire,” Griffin said.

“Sort of,” I muttered, standing up straight. “Coffee emergency.”

Griffin just shook his head. “One day, I’m gonna teach you what a schedule is.”

Despite the grumbling, he didn’t seem too pissed. And I’d take that as a win.

But the whole time we trained, while I punched and blocked and ran drills until my arms burned, I kept picturing Ethan’s face when he saw that coffee.

Maybe he’d smile. Maybe he’d roll his eyes but still drink it. This wasn’t a grand gesture. It wasn’t pushing or hovering. It was just… showing I cared.

Carter would probably still call it “obvious,” but I didn’t care.