Page 22 of Boss and Brat

“Good job at the store,” he said, voice steady. “Took you a while, though.”

Ethan’s stomach tightened. Of course, Carter knew. The tracker sat heavy in his pocket like a stone.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, keeping his tone light. “Ran into someone special.”

Carter leaned a hip against the counter, arms crossed—not confrontational, just… waiting. “Someone special?”

“Sarah,” Ethan said.

Carter nodded slowly, as if he were filing the name away.

The pause stretched just long enough to make Ethan’s pulse jump. Carter didn’t look suspicious—just curious in that unreadable way that made Ethan feel like he was being measured.

“Not a girlfriend.” Ethan said quickly. “I don’t have one.”

Carter hummed under his breath, a low sound that gave nothing away. “Didn’t say you did.”

He pushed off the counter and reached for the last grocery bag, but his eyes lingered on Ethan for a beat longer than necessary—like he was trying to decide what kind of “someone” Ethan might bring home if he had the chance.

Ethan grabbed the bag before Carter could, needing something to do with his hands. “Sarah just helped me shop. That’s all.”

“Mm.” Carter stepped aside to let him pass. “Good to know.”

The words were simple. The tone wasn’t.

Ethan carried the bag to the pantry—careful, controlled, already adjusting himself to whatever version of Carter he needed to face next.

Ethan stepped away from the pantry to the counter alongside it and pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over Sarah’s name. The guilt hit fast—sharp, sour. Dragging her into his mess felt wrong, especially with Paris hanging over her like a promise she’d earned.

He typed anyway.

Ethan:Never mind about the file. Thanks anyway.

Sarah:Okay.

He locked the screen and slipped the phone into his pocket. The tracker app sat there like a loaded gun he couldn’t unload. If Sarah got caught, Dad would bury her chances for a Paris trip and to go to college. If Ethan got caught snooping in Carter’s cabin, he wasn’t sure what Carter would do—but the tracker made one thing clear: Carter didn’t trust him. Not really. Not enough to let him breathe without a leash.

His mind spun through possibilities. Maybe he could find the file himself. Maybe Carter would leave the cabin sometimes—early mornings, late nights, those quiet stretches when Ethan had disappeared into the barn or the fields. If Ethan timed it right, he could slip inside, check the desk, the drawers, and the laptop.

But the tracker.

The tracker ruined everything. Carter would see every step he took. Every detour. Every lie. Ethan’s stomach knotted. He wasn’t just being watched. He was being mapped.

He swallowed hard and forced his breathing steady. He needed a plan. He needed to figure out what Carter knew, what the file said, and how much danger he was actually in.

Behind him, footsteps approached—slow, deliberate, the kind that always made Ethan straighten his spine before he even turned around.

Carter stopped a few feet away.

“Are you pissed off about something,” Carter said, voice low and unreadable, “or am I imagining it?”

Ethan kept his eyes on the counter, pulse thudding against the tracker in his pocket. The most dangerous question in his mind wasn’t whether Carter knew he was upset. It was whether Carter already knew why.

Chapter Ten

Something had gone sideways while Ethan was out. Carter saw it the second the kid stepped through the door—shoulders tight, jaw set, eyes darting like he expected a blow. He’d left here loose, almost cheerful. Now he moved like someone bracing for impact.

He mentioned his sister. Called her special. Carter filed that away.