Chapter 12
Devon
The dining hall was already packed when we came in.
A few of the usual volunteers from the clinic were already there, clustered around a long table near the windows. Enforcers sat in the back, some half-asleep over their plates.
I lifted a hand when I spotted Rose and her family. She waved back, beaming like she hadn’t just seen me the day before. I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.
It wasn’t lost on me that coming here meant Carter and I probably wouldn’t get a quiet moment to ourselves.
The hall was too full, too loud, too public. But maybe that was for the best.
Because I didn’t know what I would say if it were just the two of us.
I wondered if I should tell him that I had been awake last night, that I had felt him lean close, his lips warm against the side of my throat.
The soft exhale against my skin froze me in place, not out of fear, but because every part of me knew what that moment could have been.
His fangs had grazed me, just barely, enough to make my breath catch. I remembered flinching, though it didn’t seem like he noticed.
All I could think about, foolishly and wildly, was what would have happened if he hadn’t stopped.
If Carter had marked me right then and there.
Would I have to leave Pecan Pines? Leave my pack, my friends, the clinic?
Would I have to choose between them and him? Between duty and whatever this thing between us was turning into?
I recoiled from the thought. But my wolf had other ideas.
I could feel him stirring even now, restless and yearning. He remembered Carter’s weight, his warmth, and the press of his arm pulling me closer.
My wolf had whined when Carter pulled away, rolling onto his stomach in my mind’s eye, tail tucked, confused and wanting.
He had wanted me to show my throat, to invite Carter back in, to bare the side of my neck like an offering.
He knew, and I knew, that I wouldn’t have stopped him. If Carter had marked me, that would have been it.
I would’ve been his.
And he’d be mine.
When the moment passed, I wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved. The truth was, I didn’t even know what I wanted.
Staying in that cabin, surrounded by the heavy scent of our bodies, the warmth and sweat lingering in the air, wouldn’t have helped. Another few hours there, and I wasn’t sure who would’ve crossed the line first.
So it was a good thing we were here, in the packed and noisy dining hall that smelled only of burnt toast and coffee. Nothing about this room would make us lose control.
Across the room, Carter was in line to get us breakfast, or trying to, anyway. He hadn’t made it far before a group of older shifters pulled him aside.
From my spot at the table, I watched him try, and fail, to escape as they launched into what looked like a long complaint. Carter nodded patiently, lips pressed into something halfway between polite and pained.
It wasn’t until Carter pressed a firm hand to one of their shoulders that the old men finally let him go.
Tray in hand, he pushed through the crowd, apologizing under his breath and dodging anyone in his path. By the time he reached me and set it down, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.
“Is that all they had?” I asked, nodding at his plate.
The scrambled eggs were overcooked and dry, clearly scraped from the bottom of the pan. The toast looked like someone had cobbled it together from leftover crusts, bits people picked up, frowned at, and rejected.
Carter sighed, sinking into the seat across from me. For someone who’d just started the day, he already looked exhausted.
“At least I managed to get something,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
I grinned. “That barely counts as something.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Those old men wouldn’t let me go.”
I matched his posture, amusement tugging at the corner of my mouth. “What did they want?”
He dragged a hand over his face. “They were showing me all these pictures of chairs. The ones they want for the clinic’s reception area. They found these padded things with soft cushions and carved armrests. You’d think they were designing a lounge.”
I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “Trust me, you don’t want those. Plastic’s better. Easier to clean in case of, you know, emergencies.”
Carter gave me a helpless look. “I know. I told them, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
He picked up his fork, stabbing half-heartedly at the eggs. “So I told them…”
He trailed off.
I frowned. “Told them what?”
He mumbled something under his breath, eyes fixed on his plate.
“Carter,” I pressed, leaning forward. “What did you say?”
He sighed. “I told them if they could convince you, then I’d sign off on it.”
My mouth fell open. “You didn’t.”
He said nothing, pretending to focus on the dry eggs on his plate instead.
I kicked him under the table. “You betrayed me.”
He grinned when I started laughing. “It was self-defense.”
I caught myself staring for a moment longer than I should have, the ease of the morning pressing down on me.
Last night had been too simple, too right.
One week, I reminded myself. One week.
I couldn’t let it slip into something permanent, not with everything at stake. My chest tightened at the thought, a mix of relief and frustration, and I let my gaze drop back to the table, the noise of the dining hall grounding me.
My phone buzzed on the table. Ethan’s name flashed on the screen. I grabbed it without thinking, grateful for the interruption.
“Hey,” I said quietly.
“Devon, sorry to call so early.” Ethan’s voice came fast, urgent. “A group of enforcers just got back from a high-risk patrol last night. A few of them are in rough shape. I don’t know if I should stabilize them here or wait for you.”
“I’ll be there soon,” I said, already reaching for my jacket.
Carter looked up, eyes alert again. “Everything okay?”
“Emergency at the clinic,” I said, standing. “One of the patrol teams came back injured.”
He nodded immediately. “You don’t have to ask. Go. They need you.”
There was no hesitation in his voice, but something in his expression caught me.
I wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or just the shadow of fatigue. Either way, it made my chest tighten.
I ended the call and gave him a small, apologetic smile. “I’ll be back by the end of the day.”
“Be careful,” he said softly.
As I turned toward the door, I thought I felt his gaze follow me. And for a moment, I wished I didn’t have to leave at all.
The familiar scent of herbs and antiseptic hit me the moment I stepped into the pack clinic at Pecan Pines.
Ethan looked up from one of the beds, guilt written all over his face. “I’m really sorry, Dev. I didn’t want to trouble you. You didn’t have to come all the way here.”
I cut him off before he could start spiraling. “It’s fine. You did the right thing calling me.”
He blinked, surprised by how quickly I said it. But I meant it.
Because I needed the space. I needed to breathe.
A few hours away from Thornebane and from Carter didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Things there had gotten too easy, too comfortable.
Every brush of his hand, every small look he gave, felt too natural. Too tempting. It wasn't safe.
Not with someone who wasn’t supposed to be mine, not for just a week. The thought made my chest tighten, and I shoved it aside, focusing on the patient in front of me.
I could’ve easily talked Ethan through this over the phone, but being here meant I could fix things properly, making sure no small problem snowballed into something worse.
The pack’s enforcers had been stretched thin lately, taking on extra patrols ahead of the winter festival. Injuries were getting more serious, and I’d already told Cooper he needed to rotate teams or get backup before someone got badly hurt.
Still, I knew it wasn’t that simple.
At least Ethan was keeping everything under control. He moved with quiet confidence, directing staff, organizing supplies, and making the room feel steadier just by being in it.
I couldn’t help noticing how much he’d grown. He was more sure of himself, calmer, and more like the head healer I knew he would be.
The day passed quickly in a blur. Between Ethan and me, we patched up half the injured patrol before lunch and handled walk-ins after.
I should’ve been exhausted, but instead, I felt clear. Focused.
Still, when the last patient left, I found more excuses to stay. Cleaning, sorting through herbs, checking minor cases that could’ve waited.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go back. I just wasn’t ready. Not yet.
A soft cough from the corner pulled me from my thoughts. One of the older shifters was propped up on a cot, rubbing at his chest.
I crossed over and rummaged through the storage cabinet for the jar I needed.
“Chest balm’s running low,” I said over my shoulder, finding the small container tucked behind a row of tinctures. “We’ll need to make another batch soon. Herbs won’t last till next week.”
Ethan looked up from the counter. “No worries. I posted on the Healer’s Circle about it last night. Silvercrest sent a small box over. Should tide us through a couple of weeks.”
I smiled, genuinely proud. “You’re getting good at this.”
He grinned. “Well, I had a good teacher.”
I glanced at the balm in my hand, thumb tracing the label without thinking.
Ethan noticed. “What’s wrong? Is it no good?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’ve just been trying to get the same one sent to my parents’ place. My dad goes through them so fast. I always bring some whenever I visit, but it’s never enough.”
The words felt heavier than I meant them to. After this week, after Thornebane, I’d step back into reality and face everything I’d been putting off: convincing my parents to move here, juggling the pack, the clinic. A small knot of tension tightened in my chest as I thought about it.
Ethan studied me for a moment, then said quietly, “Just take it. We’ve got plenty for now.”
I raised a brow. “And Cooper?”
He smirked. “Won’t tell him if you don’t.”
I laughed softly. “Deal.”
I pushed a green bean across my plate with my fork, not really tasting anything.
Across the table, Carter was already done with his meal, just sitting there, elbows on the table, watching me with that unreadable expression of his.
“You’ve been quiet,” he said after a while. “Something wrong?”
I looked up, forcing a small smile. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
I hesitated. “About Pecan Pines,” I admitted. “How much easier everything is there. The clinic’s fully stocked, deliveries come on time, and if we need something, there’s always someone ready to help. It’s… steady.”
I paused, tracing a line through the sauce on my plate. “We’ve got good connections with the neighboring packs too, so if something happens, help isn’t far.”
Carter nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a good place. Strong pack.”
He was quiet for a beat, then added, “Your parents would do better there. It’s safer. Easier for them.”
That caught me off guard. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell them,” I said, letting out a short laugh. “But you’ve met my dad. He’s impossible to convince. And my mom’s not any better. If he’s staying, she’s staying.”
The words came out sharper than I meant. I sighed and rubbed at my neck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Carter shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”
The fire cracked softly in the corner, the only sound in the cabin for a while. I stared at my half-empty plate, unsure why my chest felt so tight.
Maybe it was because I knew he was right, or because he didn’t try to argue otherwise.
Without thinking, I asked, “Why didn’t you suggest they move here? To Thornebane?”
Carter went still, then exhaled slowly. “Because I don’t want them hurt,” he said. “We’re getting better, but we’re not there yet. Things are still unstable. I wouldn’t risk bringing your parents into that.”
I looked at him, unsure what to feel. Gratitude, maybe. Or disappointment that he’d said it so easily.
There wasn’t even a pause, no pretense that Thornebane could be that kind of place.
I leaned back, forcing my face into something neutral. He’s being honest, I reminded myself.
I can’t fault him for that. Still, the words landed heavier than I expected.
For a moment, my thoughts drifted back to this morning. The warmth of his hand brushing mine, the steady pull in my chest that I’d almost given in to.
I’d felt his heartbeat, his breath close enough to touch. One step away from something that would have changed everything.
It was too easy to imagine this as something real, and that thought made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t ready to admit.
“You’re probably right,” I said quietly.
You’re only passing through, I reminded myself. In a few days, you’ll be gone.
I cleared my throat, pushing the plate away. “Thanks for dinner,” I said softly. “It was good.”
Carter’s mouth lifted in a small grin. “It was your mom’s cooking. I just heated it up.”
“Still counts,” I said, returning his smile.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it was warm. His presence lingered in the faint scent he carried, subtle but familiar.
For a moment, I let myself just sit there and pretend this was normal, pretend I wasn’t already dreading how it would feel to leave.