Page 16 of Ethan
Cooper leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “I’ve already approved it. While Devon’s gone, you’ll be the acting head healer.”
The title hit me like a slap. Head healer. The weight of it pressed down on my shoulders. It wasn’t a role you could just “fill in” for.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to keep my panic in check. Was this why Devon had been giving me more responsibility lately? More cases to handle on my own?
“But—” My thoughts spiraled as the implications hit me. “I’ll be the only healer here?”
Devon nodded.
I stared at him. “Overseeing everything? Like patching up training injuries, handling routine check-ups, and... what else?”
“Treating minor illnesses, monitoring the pups if they catch something,” Devon offered casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
“But I can’t even fully heal a broken rib in one session!” The words blurted out before I could stop them. “And you want me to be the acting head healer?”
“You’ll be fine,” Cooper said firmly. “There are no high-risk missions scheduled, no major events planned. Things should be quiet.”
“Should be,” I echoed weakly.
Devon tapped the closed folder. “I’ve already outlined everything you need to do while I’m gone. Most of the cases are minor injuries or routine care. Nothing requiring consistent healing sessions.”
I wasn’t reassured. The information was coming at me too quickly, the responsibility too sudden. I wasn’t ready for this.
Devon must have noticed the panic creeping into my expression. He reached over, placing a reassuring hand on mine. “I’ll walk you through my cases tonight. It’ll be okay.”
“Tonight? Like, right now?” My head snapped up, disbelief clear in my tone.
“I’m leaving in a couple of hours,” he said.
My jaw slackened. He at least looked a little apologetic about throwing this at me with so little notice, but it wasn’t enough to soothe my rising anxiety.
My shoulders sagged as I sank into the chair. I had no choice but to nod.
“Okay,” I said, though it felt like anything but.
I struck the last note on my bass, letting it resonate as the crowd erupted into cheers. Zack followed it up with a quick, spontaneous drum riff.
It was a sharp, improvised roll that ended with a crash of cymbals.
The energy was electric, the kind that usually left you buzzing long after the lights came up, but I couldn’t feel it tonight.
“You’ve all been amazing tonight!” Noah called into the mic, his voice cutting through the noise. “We’ll see you same time next week!”
The audience roared in approval, and Noah gave them a quick wave before stepping back.
I turned, slinging my bass over my shoulder. My fingers absentmindedly ran along the strings, muting them out of habit.
Was I even going to be here next week?
Devon said he’d only be gone a week at most, but the look on his face made it clear he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d be back. And with the workload he’d dumped on me, it wasn’t like I’d have much free time.
The crowd cheered again as Noah gave them one last wave.
Backstage, the three of us regrouped. Noah set his guitar on the stand, while Zack rolled his drumsticks between his fingers, grinning.
“Sorry again for running late,” I said, unclipping the strap from my bass and placing it gently on its stand. “I didn’t even get to do the sound check.”
“It’s fine,” Noah said, waving it off. “Griffin was already here anyway and let us in early.”
