Page 15 of Boss and Brat

He let out a slow breath, barely more than a whisper. “Fine. I agree.”

The words tasted bitter, like surrender. But they were out now, and he couldn’t take them back. And the cost of saying them settled heavy in his chest.

He paused, trying to sound casual. “Does breaking all the rules get the same punishment?”

“No. We’ll discuss that now.”

Ethan shifted in his seat, the kitchen feeling too warm, too quiet. The back of his neck prickled, and a dry tightness crept into his throat—like the air had thickened the longer Carter stared at him. He tried to swallow, but it didn’t help. The silence between them stretched, heavy enough to make his chest feel tight.

He needed something—anything—to break it.

“I’m… thirsty,” he muttered, rubbing his palms on his jeans as if that would settle the restless energy buzzing under his skin.

Carter didn’t move. Didn’t soften. Just said, “Drinks are in the refrigerator.”

That steady, even tone only made Ethan’s pulse jump harder. He pushed back from the table a little too quickly, the chair legs scraping the floor. The movement felt like an escape—like stepping away from the weight of Carter’s expectations, the rules, the consequences, all of it pressing in on him at once.

He crossed the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to turn his back, to breathe, to let the cool air from the fridge wash over his overheated face as he opened the door. The fridge was as neat as the rest of the cabin—rows of cans, everything arranged as if Carter had measured the spacing. Ethan grabbed a Coke.

“You want something?” he asked, holding the door open.

“The same as you.”

Ethan handed him a can once he sat back down. Carter cracked it open with a soft hiss.

“I’m impressed you chose Coke and not beer,” Carter said.

“Nothing to be impressed about. I don’t drink.”

Carter raised an eyebrow. “Really. Any reason?”

“I don’t feel like talking about it,” Ethan muttered.

Carter didn’t push. Instead, he said, “Your father compiled a file on you.”

Ethan’s head snapped up. “Are you kidding me?” Anger flared hot in his chest. He suddenly wanted a cigarette more than air.

“Only to assist me,” Carter said calmly.

“Assist you in what?” Ethan snapped.

“The jobs I assign you. If I hadn’t read the file, I might’ve given you work you weren’t suited for. He listed what you’re good at.”

Ethan scoffed. “I’m sure everything in that file is exaggerated.”

“Time will tell.”

A knot tightened in Ethan’s stomach. He needed to find that file. Needed to know what lies—or truths—his father had handed over.

“Well,” Ethan said, taking a long sip of Coke to steady himself, “what are my jobs?”

He tried to sound bored, but his pulse thudded in his ears. Whatever Carter said next was going to shape everything. And Ethan wasn’t sure he was ready for that. Not even close.

Chapter Seven

“We’re going to sit by the lake and finish talking,” Carter said.

He didn’t wait for a response—just headed toward the entryway, trusting Ethan would follow. He heard the kid’s footsteps behind him, a little hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was walking toward a conversation or a firing squad.