And so I stayed.
The days passed one at a time.
I kept seeing patients. He kept running the pack.
We didn't rush anything. We didn't put names on things. We just existed in the same space, like two people learning how to be in the same room again.
Sometimes we ate dinner together.
Sometimes we walked the territory in the evenings.
Sometimes he'd pull up a chair in my office and we'd talk about pack business until late into the night.
Slowly, I started seeing a different Ethan.
He'd leave warm milk and a slice of cake outside my door when I worked past midnight.
He sat by my bedside the one time I got sick. Didn't leave.
On full moon nights, he invited me to run in the forest with him.
"Selene," I asked one of those nights. "Do you think he's changed?"
"He has," she said softly.
