Page 32 of Ethan
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.”
