Page 50 of Ethan
I looked between him and Ben. “Or… I can focus on Ben’s ankle instead. Get him walking. Then he and Dean can take turns carrying you back. Once we’re at the clinic, I can finish healing you. If not tonight, then tomorrow morning.”
The weight of my words hung over us. It wasn’t the solution anyone wanted, least of all me.
Dean broke the silence first. “What do you think we should do?” His voice wasn’t demanding, just steady.
I drew in a breath. “Patch up Nick’s leg with the bandages and heal Ben’s ankle completely. It’s not perfect. There’s still risk, especially with Ben. He’ll need to walk slow, not push too hard, but it gives us the safest shot at all of us making it back together.” I swallowed. “That’s what I’d suggest.”
Ben exhaled, long and sharp, then nodded. “Alright. Makes sense.”
Nick gave a tired grin, even through his pain. “Yeah. Let’s just get out of here.”
I crouched by Ben and braced a hand over his ankle.
Healing surged through me, hot and heavy, and I felt the tendons shift, bones clicking back into place.
His relief was instant, a sharp gasp escaping him as the pain faded.
The strain rolled over me like a wave. I blinked hard, my chest tightening.
Dean had already stepped forward, hand half-raised like he meant to stop me.
I shook my head, hoping he’d take the hint. This, at least, I could do.
When I finally let go, I sat back on my heels, frustration curling bitter in my gut.
If I were stronger, I could’ve spread it out. A little here, a little there.
Enough to ease both of them. Devon would’ve found a way. But I wasn’t Devon.
We started back toward the pack house, choosing the longer route that wound along gentler slopes and firmer ground.
It made carrying Nick easier, though the forest pressed close around us, damp earth heavy in the air.
No one spoke much. The silence was only broken by the crunch of boots and the occasional hiss of Nick’s breath when they shifted him wrong.
Dean fell in step beside me and pressed something into my hand. An energy bar.
“Eat,” he said simply.
I tore it open, more out of obligation than hunger, chewing even as my stomach turned. Maybe if I got something in me, I could squeeze out more healing later.
“You did good back there,” Dean murmured.
The praise hit wrong. I let out a rough laugh. “Good? I could’ve done more. Should’ve. Devon would’ve handled both of them perfectly, without breaking stride.”
Dean frowned. “Would he? Even after last night with Naomi and Connor? You’ve been going nonstop. Do you really think he could’ve healed two serious injuries on top of all that?”
I chewed in silence, staring at the dirt path ahead. It took me a long time to admit the truth, the word leaving my mouth like a stone. “No.”
My chest ached with more than exhaustion. Our pack had two healers. I’d been grateful, sure, but only in the abstract. Some safety net I never thought to question.
I took it for granted, never really imagining what it would be like to hold all of it alone.
Dean’s voice was steady, grounding. “You did enough. We’re all walking back together. That’s what matters.”
Before I could answer, Ben stumbled, almost pitching forward with Nick’s weight.
Dean moved instantly, shouldering the load with an ease that made Ben grit his teeth in embarrassed gratitude.
