Page 68 of Finding His Fox

Cal

Heart pounding with worry, I clutched a bouquet of roses tightly in my hand as I stepped into the small clinic attached to the Fox Haven pack house.

The events of the past few hours had left me restless and sleep-deprived.

After dropping Nate off at the pack clinic, the doctor had advised me to return home and get some rest, promising that Nate was out of immediate danger.

Nate had suffered bruises, a broken arm, and leg—physical injuries that would heal with time. Yet, I knew that the emotional scars from our recent encounter would linger.

Dr. Monica Daniels, the pack doctor, had assured me that Nate would be safe here and that I should take care of myself.

Her words resonated with me as I realized that nothing and no one could harm Nate while he was within the protective embrace of the pack lands. The pack would shield him from any harm.

Throughout the night, my thoughts were consumed by Nate and the terrifying what-ifs.

If I had arrived at the wendigo’s lair even a moment later, Nate’s life would have been lost.

The mere thought of a future without him was unbearable.

Max sensed my unease and pressed himself against my leg. His purring provided a soothing rhythm to my troubled mind.

I scooped him up in my free hand, giving his ears a gentle scratch. Max meowed in contentment, reminding me to let go of the worries that plagued me.

However, my thoughts were interrupted by a throat clearing, drawing my attention to the presence of Owen and Dr. Daniels in the clinic. I didn’t even notice they were there until that very moment.

“Cal, here to see Nate?” Owen inquired as he approached, his expression cautious as Max hissed at him.

I held Max closer, reassuring him until he settled down.

“I thought you were allergic to cats,” Owen remarked, scratching his head in confusion.

“Well, Max is an exception,” I replied, a small smile forming. “He kept me company last night.”

Owen nodded in understanding. He and Ian had recently adopted a dog.

“I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Nate or you since our late arrival at the clinic the previous night,” Owen said.

I proceeded to update him on the events that had unfolded.

“Sounds like you both went through a rough time,” Owen commented, his concern evident. “But I’m relieved that you managed to take care of the wendigo. We no longer have to worry about it posing a threat to hikers or the pack’s cubs.”

Owen cleared his throat. “Dr. Daniels, shall we get some breakfast from the kitchens?”

“I could use some coffee,” Dr. Daniels agreed, and they left the clinic together.

Before departing, she added, “Cal, Nate’s doing much better today.”

With Owen and Dr. Daniels gone, I made my way to Nate’s room, the unease in my chest still lingering.

It felt almost foolish to be anxious about seeing Nate, but deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that his current condition was a result of my actions.

If only I hadn’t encountered that lost hiker or faced off against the wendigo multiple times, Nate wouldn’t be lying here now.

As my hand reached for the doorknob, I hesitated, a mix of emotions swirling within me.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered my courage and entered the dimly lit room.

The soft beeping of medical equipment filled the air, accompanied by Nate’s steady breathing.