Page 51 of Ethan
As we went on, Dean started asking questions about the wild wolves, the attack, and the tracks we’d seen.
I couldn’t help notice the change in him. He was listening, piecing things together. Learning.
And me? I was furious with myself. Not for any single mistake, but for overextending, for ignoring my own limits and letting it get this far.
Devon’s voice echoed in my head:a healer’s first responsibility is to their own body. If I fall, the pack falls with me.
I hadn’t listened. Not really.
Now I knew better. I had to be better.
Devon was only gone for a few weeks, but what if it stretched longer? What if next time it was worse?
I saw Ben’s face in my mind again, the disappointment from earlier when I’d admitted my limits clear in his expression. That can’t happen again.
Chapter 12
Dean
Ethan’s voice was steady,but there was a tension in it I didn’t miss.
“Lower him into that bed, gently,” he said, gesturing to one of the unoccupied cots in the clinic.
Ben and I moved in sync, careful as we eased Nick down onto the mattress. He was out cold, his shirt torn and blood soaking through the gauze Ethan had hastily wrapped around his leg earlier.
His skin was clammy, his pulse faint but there. Still hanging on. I caught the flicker in Ethan’s expression as he watched us. Not just concern, but guilt.
He’d already worked on Ben, stabilizing the worst of his injuries. His mouth tight, he locked his eyes on Nick like he was trying to will him back to consciousness.
“You good?” I asked, my voice low.
Ethan didn’t look at me. “I should’ve done better,” he muttered, brushing hair out of Nick’s eyes before checking his vitals.
I frowned. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re not a machine, Ethan.”
He still didn’t look up, just opened a drawer and pulled out antiseptic, gauze, and a clean set of gloves. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the room.
He was in full medic mode now, but I could see the way his hands trembled slightly before he steadied them. The way his shoulders hunched, like he was bracing for failure.
Ben hovered near the foot of Nick’s bed, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his whole body tense with worry. I understood it.
Nick had taken a pretty nasty hit from that wild wolf, but hovering over Ethan like a storm cloud wasn’t helping.
“Hey,” I said quietly, nudging Ben with my elbow. “Maybe give Ethan a little space. Let him work.”
Ben’s head snapped toward me, eyes flashing. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
The sharpness in his voice hit like a slap, and for a second, all my instincts flared. Anger first, then defensiveness, followed by the deeper, uglier feeling I still hadn’t figured out how to name.
I gritted my teeth and looked away, jaw tight. I got it. I did.
If it were Ethan in that bed, bleeding out and unconscious, I wouldn’t be calm either.
I clenched my fists and exhaled slowly, trying to shove my pride back into its box. No point starting something here. Not when Nick needed help.
A long silence stretched between us. Then, to my surprise, Ben scratched the back of his neck and muttered, “Sorry.”
I blinked.
