Chapter 9
Devon
My phone sat in its holder on speaker mode, my mother’s voice filling the car like she was sitting right beside me.
“Now remember,” she said for what had to be the fourth time, “you only need to reheat it for two minutes. Two, Devon. Not five. You always overdo it.”
I rolled my eyes, turning onto the road that cut through the pines toward Thornebane.
“It’s still edible,” I muttered, even though I knew she could hear me.
“Edible isn’t the same as good,” she scolded. “I packed those dishes with care. Don’t go turning my hard work into dry, sad leftovers.”
I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how to use a microwave.
But then again, maybe she had a point. There had been that one time the stew turned into something resembling cement.
Wait. Was that why she always repeated instructions?
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Mm-hm,” I said vaguely.
She kept talking anyway. Something about proper reheating, about how the soup thickens if I leave it overnight. It was comforting and exasperating all at once.
Her tendency to go on and on had delayed me long enough that I didn’t end up leaving my parents’ place until after lunch.
I should’ve gone back with Carter when I had the chance.
Then again, I’d wanted to check on Dad one last time before heading out. Watching him finally resting without pain had eased a knot in my chest I hadn’t realized was there.
Mom’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “And make sure you feed that boy properly. I could tell he wanted more but was too polite to ask. He’s a shy boy, but a good boy.”
I rolled my eyes. She wouldn’t be calling the lead alpha of Thornebane Pack a “good boy” if she knew where Carter’s hands had been last night, practically kneading my ass like dough while we were going at it in the kitchen.
I hummed again, hoping my silence didn’t give me away.
There was a brief pause on the line, long enough that I had to check if we were still connected. “Mom?”
“When are you coming back, honey?” That quiet, uncertain note in her voice always got to me.
“Before the end of the week,” I said. “Promise. I just want to finish up some things here first.”
She exhaled, and I could hear the relief even through the static. “Alright. Drive safe, okay? Don’t skip meals.”
“I won’t.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The call ended, and I let the hum of the car fill the quiet. As I neared Thornebane, something in the air shifted. My wolf stirred, uneasy, alert.
I turned toward the clinic site, or what was supposed to be the clinic site.
The moment I saw it, my breath caught. The place looked like a storm had torn through it.
Wood beams, fresh from yesterday’s work, lay splintered and broken in a heap.
A few pack members were outside, piling debris and twisted planks into neat stacks, but even from a distance, I could see the defeat in their shoulders.
Panic shot through me. I slammed the car door shut and hurried over, scanning for familiar faces.
“Rose?” I called out. My voice came out sharper than I intended. “Is Rose here? Or Carter?”
Someone pointed toward the building. “Inside.”
I jogged in, stepping over shattered glass and sawdust. Inside, Carter stood near a half-collapsed frame of a wall, speaking in low tones to two contractors. His posture was rigid, his expression barely contained.
When he finally turned to me, I could see he was trying to hold back his anger. “Found it like this this morning.”
“What happened?” I asked quietly.
“We think we know who did it,” he said. “But there’s no proof.”
Something in his tone told me he didn’t want to say more.
I nodded slowly. “Anyone hurt?”
“No. Just the site.”
That should’ve been a relief, but all I felt was the hollow ache in my chest. All that work, gone.
I wanted to push for more, but this wasn’t my place.
This was Thornebane business. I was just a healer from another pack, here on borrowed time.
So instead, I said quietly, “Tell me what you need me to do.”
Carter’s eyes flicked up to mine. For a heartbeat, the alpha mask slipped, and I saw the exhaustion beneath it.
“I’ll help clean,” I added before he could answer.
I stepped out of the half-collapsed frame, heading toward the shed where we kept the spare brooms.
But when I reached the edge of the path, I froze. What had been neat rows of young plants yesterday was now a mess of torn roots and trampled soil.
I crouched, fingers brushing over the ruined earth, my stomach twisting.
When I looked up again, the shed, the one we’d just fixed up, was tilted at an awkward angle. Even the markers I’d written by hand had been ripped out.
I swallowed hard. The anger was there, but I forced it down.
No point making things worse. Carter’s silence beside me said enough.
When I finally looked up, his jaw was tight. His gaze swept over the ruined garden, and for a moment, I saw something more than anger: disappointment. The same look he’d worn the other day.
That, somehow, made my chest ache more than the damage around us.
I brushed soil off my palms and straightened. “I’m going to run back to your cabin first,” I said. “Need to put the food my mom sent in the fridge before it goes bad. I’ll come right back to help.”
“You don’t need to,” Carter said, his voice still tight.
“I’m coming back,” I said simply.
He didn’t argue, but the look he gave me was distant, as if his mind was already turning over all the things he couldn’t control.
When I returned, a few more pack members had joined in, hauling out broken beams and sweeping up debris. The smell of wood, dust, and sweat hung heavy in the air.
I kept to the garden, clearing fallen planks and righting a few overturned pots.
I didn’t go near Carter; I didn’t need to. I could feel him nearby, his voice low but steady as he gave quiet instructions to the volunteers.
By the time the sun dipped behind the trees, the site finally looked whole again, at least structurally, maybe even better than yesterday. But the mood still hung low.
Carter stood by what was left of the shed, giving orders for an overnight watch. When he was done, he finally came over.
“Don’t think I apologized for what happened yet,” he said, avoiding my eyes.
I shook my head. “You don’t need to. It’s not like you caused this.”
His lips pressed together, a small, pained look flickering across his face before he looked away. “Still happened under me.”
I could see the weight of it on him, the responsibility he carried even when there was nothing he could do.
I wanted to reach out, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but that wasn’t what he needed. Words wouldn’t fix this. He needed something else. Maybe I did too.
I figured he’d been here since morning. He probably hadn’t stopped to eat, drink, or even breathe properly. No wonder he looked like that.
“Hey,” I said lightly, dusting off my hands. “I’m heading to the garden center before it closes. Need to grab a few things so we can start replanting tomorrow morning.”
He blinked at me. “Now?”
“Yeah. Fresh air, short drive. Won’t take long.”
He hesitated, glancing back at the site. “There’s still stuff to handle. I should—”
“It’s getting dark,” I interrupted. “Most people have gone home already. You can come back later if you really want to boss someone around in the dark.”
That got the faintest twitch of a smile.
“Come on,” I said, softer this time. “Just a quick trip. Promise.”
He looked torn, eyes flicking from me to the mess and back.
I glanced around, making sure none of the remaining pack members were close enough to notice. Satisfied it was just the two of us, I reached out, taking his hand.
His skin was rough, warm from the day’s work, and for a moment, I expected him to pull away.
He didn’t. I led him toward his truck, and he followed without protest.
Half an hour later, we pulled into the garden center. Rows of potted plants stretched out in every direction, some still bare, others already showing tiny hints of color.
I moved between them slowly, brushing soil off my fingertips as I checked each tag. Carter followed a few steps behind.
He still seemed half-removed from the world around him, as if his mind hadn’t left the mess back at the clinic.
But I could tell he was trying, following along as I explained the difference between perennials and annuals.
“These should do well once the frost passes,” I said, crouching to inspect a tray of seedlings. “Give them a few months and they’ll start to flower.”
I ran my thumb over a thin green stalk. “These ones will bloom purple. I’m planning to put them near the entrance. They’ll look nice when they fill out, and the leaves can come in handy for treating minor injuries. Pretty and practical.”
Carter leaned over, squinting at the tray. “You can tell all that just by looking at them?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
He made a soft noise, something between a laugh and a grunt. “They all look the same to me.”
“That’s because the best ones don’t look like much yet.” I straightened and carried the tray toward the cart. “Can’t wait to show you when they bloom in a few weeks.”
The words came out before I thought about them, and I caught the flicker in his expression.
I felt the same tug. The unspoken question of whether I’d even still be here by then.
He didn’t say anything about it, just murmured, “I’ll be right back,” before turning down another aisle.
I let him go. My wolf pricked up, uneasy at the sudden shift, but I pushed it down and focused on picking out a few more trays.
I took longer than I needed to, giving him space and taking a moment to steady my thoughts.
When I finally found him again, he was in the hardware section.
“I thought you said someone else was getting these tomorrow,” I said, coming up beside him.
“We’re here anyway,” he said, not looking at me. “Might as well grab them now. Less work for the others.”
I nodded. That sounded like him. “You really don’t know how to stop taking care of everyone, do you?”
He huffed a small laugh but didn’t look up. “Just trying to get things done while you’re still here.”
The words hit harder than I expected. He probably didn’t mean anything by them, or maybe he did. Either way, it was enough to stir that reminder I’d been avoiding.
I turned toward the front, letting him finish choosing what he needed.
At the checkout, we stood side by side, not saying much. Carter’s jaw was set, his eyes distant. The quiet between us stretched until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Forgot something,” I said quickly. “I’ll be right back.”
Before he could ask, I jogged off toward the garden section again. I grabbed a trolley and loaded a few bags of soil onto it, and a couple of wooden bats from a nearby display of sporting goods.
When I rolled back to the counter, Carter raised an eyebrow.
“Didn’t we already have enough soil?” he asked.
“Just in case,” I said, setting the trolley beside him.
His eyes flicked to the bats. “And those?”
“For the kids,” I said, keeping my face straight.
He looked at me for a long second, clearly not buying it. Then, to my surprise, the corner of his mouth lifted.
The smallest, briefest curve, but still the first real smile I’d seen from him all day.
“Right,” he said quietly. “For the kids.”
I smiled back, pretending I didn’t notice the warmth creeping into my chest. “See? Worth the trip.”
He shook his head and took the trolley handle from me. “Whatever you say, doctor.”