Page 63 of Ethan
From the corner, someone whimpered. No one even looked up as I stepped inside.
I stood there like an idiot for a second, drinks in hand, before I caught Ethan moving past me.
“Ethan,” I said, keeping my voice low.
He stopped. Looked at me.
His eyes looked sunken with fatigue, but when he saw the cup in my hand, something flickered there. Something softer, something familiar.
“I brought you this.” I held the coffee out.
His fingers brushed mine as he took it, and I felt a jolt in my chest.
“Thanks,” he murmured. “Really. But I have to…there’s a patient with a torn ligament. I can’t talk right now.”
And just like that, he was gone again, disappearing behind a curtain before I could say anything. Nohey, nosorry I’ve been distant, not even asee you later.
I stood there, heart sinking, staring at the space he’d just vacated. So much for that.
A shuffle of footsteps behind me made me turn. Micah stood there, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyeing the cup in my hand.
“You got me one?” Micah asked, eyes lighting up as he spotted the second cup in my hand.
I handed him the cocoa without a word. I half-expected a wisecrack, something about me groveling with overpriced coffee to win Ethan over.
But to my surprise, he didn’t say anything snarky. He just wrapped his small hands around the cup, took a long sip, and let out a pleased hum.
“You okay?” he asked after a minute, voice soft.
I blinked down at him. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
He gave a small shrug, then peeked up at me. “You look kinda sad. Like someone stomped on your heart and then kicked it into a puddle.”
I huffed a laugh despite myself. “Thanks for the image.”
He grinned around the rim of his cup. “I saw it in a cartoon once.”
Of course he did.
I turned my gaze back toward the curtained-off area where Ethan had disappeared.
The scent of herbs hung in the air, sharp and clean. My fingers tightened around my own cup, which I hadn’t even touched.
“You think I’m being dumb?” I muttered. “Standing around like this.”
Micah tilted his head, expression unusually serious for a kid his age. “No. I think you’re trying really hard. And I think Ethan knows you are.”
I swallowed, my jaw clenching. My grip loosened on the cup, and I stared down at the smear of whipped cream on the lid where my thumb had been.
“It just feels like… like I messed up. And I don’t even know how,” I mumbled.
Micah took another sip of cocoa, then said, “I don’t think he’s mad at you. He’s just really, really busy. Grandpa Maurice says being the pack healer means you don’t get a lot of naps.”
I managed a half-smile. “No kidding.”
“And now there’s lots of people getting little injuries and stuff.”
“I get that. I really do. It’s just…” I hesitated, then let the words fall out. “I miss him.”
