Chapter 7
Devon
The garden behind the old clinic was more weeds than soil, but Rose was determined.
Kneeling beside me in the dirt, she dug small holes with her trowel, hair slipping loose from her braid every few minutes.
“Here,” I said, passing her a tray of seedlings. “These ones help with muscle pain. You can crush the leaves into a paste, or steep them in warm water to make a mild salve.”
Rose nodded eagerly, carefully patting the soil around the tiny green shoots.
“What about that one?” she asked, pointing at a darker-leaved plant in the next tray.
“That one’s for inflammation,” I said. “The stems are fibrous. You boil them to draw out the oils. They work well for bruises or sprains if you catch them early.”
She looked fascinated. “And if someone’s hurt worse than that?”
I smiled faintly. “Then you’d need something stronger. Some herbs don’t grow well outdoors. You’d have to forage for them or keep them in a greenhouse with the right humidity and shade.”
Her face fell a little at that.
“But,” I added quickly, “if you’re interested, I can teach you more when I visit again. Maybe Carter and your mom will let you help set up a greenhouse next to the clinic.”
That perked her right up. “Really?”
“Really,” I said, suppressing a laugh. “Though it depends if your alpha doesn’t mind having another project dumped on him.”
She grinned and went back to planting with renewed energy. I left her to it for a bit, fetching another tray of seedlings from the shade.
The soil was stubborn and dry, but with a bit of care, it was starting to look like an actual garden again.
Small steps, but it was a start. Between the herbs and the basic first-aid classes we’d been running, it felt like progress.
The town had a clinic for humans, sure, but shifter bodies healed differently. What worked for them didn’t always work for us.
These herbs were simple things, but they’d help. Enough to ease pain, close wounds faster, or at least hold someone steady until a real healer could tend to them.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and checked my phone. My post from last night was still up on the Healers’ Circle app, asking for any trained healers willing to relocate to Thornebane.
0 replies. 15 views.
I refreshed the page.
16 views.
Still no replies.
I sighed and put the phone back in my pocket. It had only been a few hours, but the silence stung more than I’d admit.
After everything I’d seen here, from old injuries that never healed right to chronic pains no one should have been living with, the garden alone wouldn’t be enough.
Thornebane needed a dedicated healer, someone who could stay rather than just visit once a week and hope for the best.
I’d told Carter as much yesterday. It had been tricky though. Mostly because I wasn’t sure how to bring it up after he’d grown distant.
During my class, he disappeared halfway through, which wasn’t surprising since I was sure he had urgent matters to handle. But when he returned, he was quieter and kept to himself.
But that had changed a little once we were back at the cabin. He’d eased up when I offered to cook dinner. Then I’d finally managed to bring up the idea of restoring the old clinic.
At first, he’d hesitated. Said there was no point fixing a place no one would use. “No healer would come here,” he’d said.
I’d told him that if they had a place worth coming to, they would.
And to his credit, Carter hadn’t argued after that. In fact, he’d moved fast.
I wasn’t sure what kind of contractor he’d managed to wrangle on such short notice, but by morning, one was already at the site, clipboard in hand.
I supposed that was one of the perks of being a lead alpha. You said something, and things just happened.
Maybe that’s why he kept his distance in public. Part of the job, part of the image he had to maintain.
Still, every so often, I caught him glancing my way as he walked the perimeter of the clinic with the contractor.
The old clinic was a one-story structure with peeling paint and a roof that sagged like it had given up decades ago.
The contractor was listing problems one after another: water damage, pest problems, unstable foundation, wiring issues. Carter’s frown deepened with every sentence.
I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath. The man looked like he’d rather be doing anything else than listening to another cost estimate.
When the contractor finally left, Carter was still standing there, hands on his hips, staring at the building like it had personally offended him.
I hesitated for a second, then made my way over, brushing soil off my hands. “So,” I asked, “how bad was it?”
He exhaled. “Not great.”
I’d expected that much. It was a miracle the building hadn’t collapsed yet. Even so, I braced myself for the worst.
“All right,” I said slowly. “So, can this actually be a functioning clinic, or just a fancy storage spot for medical supplies?”
Before Carter could answer, someone walked by carrying a stack of wooden beams. Carter moved instinctively, one hand firm on my shoulder as he steered me aside.
The touch was brief, but my body didn’t seem to know that. Heat flared beneath my skin, sharp and immediate.
When he pulled his hand back, the warmth lingered. I rubbed the spot without thinking.
“The foundation’s solid,” he said after a moment, glancing back toward the building. “That’s the only good news. Roof needs replacing, plumbing’s probably worse. We’ll need new walls in some sections, and I don’t even want to think about the flooring.”
“Well, that’s… encouraging,” I said.
He huffed a laugh. “Don’t worry. You wanted a clinic. I’ll make it happen.”
That pulled me up short. “Wait. You mean we’re actually doing this?”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “We’re doing it.”
Before I could say anything else, he reached out and plucked a small leaf from the top of my head.
I froze.
He didn’t look away as he brushed another one from my sleeve, his fingers grazing lightly against the fabric. “You’ve been rolling in the garden again,” he murmured, voice low, almost amused.
A weak laugh escaped me. “Occupational hazard.”
I caught myself watching the faint curve of his mouth. Then the morning light caught the blue in his eyes, and for a second, I couldn’t tell if my heart had skipped or stuttered.
Too close. He’s too close.
But my wolf didn’t seem to agree. It hummed under my skin, curious, urging me to lean in just a little closer.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, loud enough to startle both of us. I fumbled for it, muttering a curse when I saw the name flashing across the screen.
My mother’s voice came through, sharp with worry. My father’s pain had worsened, and she needed me home as soon as possible.
I murmured quick reassurances, then ended the call. My chest felt heavier already.
Carter’s voice cut through the quiet. “You need to go?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “My dad’s not doing great.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll drive you. My truck’s nearby.”
“I can take—”
He gave me that look again. “Devon.”
I sighed, defeated. “Fine. You drive.”
His lips twitched into that same half-smile. “Let’s go.”
Dad’s cough rattled through the small living room, sharp and wet enough to make my chest ache in sympathy.
I set my kit down and leaned forward, hovering my hand just above his sternum. My healer sense flared.
His lungs felt sluggish, thick with congestion. Not immediately dangerous, but bad enough that it would only get worse if he kept pretending otherwise.
“You’ve been pushing yourself again,” I said quietly. “You really need to come to my clinic. I can do more for you there.”
Dad waved me off. “It’s just a cough.”
“It’s not just a cough,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “You’re getting worse. You can’t keep ignoring this.”
He turned away, eyes fixed on the window instead.
I wanted to say more, to tell him that this stubbornness was hurting Mom, too, that staying here, in this ghost of a pack house, was slowly breaking both of them.
But the words stayed trapped somewhere between my lungs and throat.
My mother broke the tension with a soft voice. “Carter, dear, would you like something to drink? And sit down, please.”
Carter gave her a polite nod. “Thank you, ma’am. Water’s fine.”
“Oh, right. This is Carter,” I said. “Lead Alpha of the Thornebane Pack.”
That got Dad’s attention. He straightened immediately, coughing again but ignoring it. “Thornebane, you say? What’s a lead alpha doing here in our home?”
Carter dipped his head slightly in respect. “Helping Devon. We’re setting up a clinic for my pack. He’s been doing incredible work there.”
A small, subtle smile, half proud, half teasing. My chest went tight.
Dad ignored the compliment, pushing himself up with an effort.
“This home of ours has welcomed many lead alphas before,” he said, voice growing stronger with each word. “Used to be the pack house of our old pack. Gone now. It’s just us left.”
Carter’s expression softened. He glanced around, taking in the worn but well-loved furniture, the faded family photos crowding the mantel. “Looks like a place with a lot of history.”
Dad beamed. “It does. Held a few pack summits here before too. Maybe you’ll recognize some faces. I’ve got old photos. Thornebane lead alphas generations back. Come, I’ll show you.”
Mom moved quickly to hand him his walker, but Dad waved her off. Carter stepped in before she could argue, offering an arm.
Dad grunted something that sounded like approval and took the offered elbow. Together they made their slow way down the corridor.
Mom gave me a small smile before following, a mix of apology and gratitude, like she was thanking me for letting Carter distract him.
When the house settled into relative quiet, I packed my kit and headed for the kitchen.
Levi was already there, perched on a stool, while Mark leaned against the counter. Chris and Dane weren’t around, but the smell of chocolate hit me before I even saw the tray.