Page 41 of Boss and Brat

Ethan kept his eyes on the trail ahead. “Nope. Just studying hard at school. And now… this.”

They nodded, but he could feel their curiosity buzzing around him like flies. Not mean—just nosy. Church-nosy. It made his skin itch.

“Still weird seeing you here,” Maddie said. “Ranch Ethan doesn’t match Church Ethan.”

“Yeah,” Ethan muttered. “I know.”

He nudged Storm forward, hoping they’d drop it. They didn’t.

Their voices dipped lower, but not low enough.

“Did you hear he failed his senior year at Chico?” Lily said like she’d been waiting to say it.

Tessa clicked her tongue. “Yeah. My cousin said he partied every night instead of going to class.”

“Figures,” Lily said. “He always looked so perfect on Sundays. Guess that was fake.”

Ethan kept his eyes on the trail, jaw tightening. Storm’s ears flicked back, picking up the tension in his hands. Ethan loosened his grip before the horse reacted.

The girls kept going.

“I thought he’d end up at some fancy art school,” Maddie said. “Not… here.”

“Maybe he messed up too much,” Tessa replied. “My mom said his parents were furious.”

Heat crawled up the back of Ethan’s neck. He’d heard versions of this before—whispered in hallways, murmured in pews, tucked behind polite smiles. But hearing it now, out here, with dust on his boots and sunlight pressing on his shoulders, hit different. Like they were peeling back a layer he’d tried hard to bury.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Ethan said, voice steady.

All three girls froze. Lily cleared her throat. “We didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did,” Ethan said, not looking back. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Not even close. But he wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

He nudged Storm forward again, letting the distance stretch between them, the sound of their whispers fading behind him like a door closing.

And for the rest of the ride, Ethan kept his eyes ahead, pretending the dust in the air was the only thing making his chest feel tight.

Some of the younger girls giggled and whispered to each other, tossing their hair, giving him looks he didn’t know how to handle. He flirted back because that’s what he’d always done—smile, joke, pretend he knew what he was doing. But every timeone of them leaned a little too close or asked if he remembered them from church camp, something twisted in his stomach.

He kept the ride moving, pointing out trails, warning them about low branches—anything to keep the focus off him.

Two hours later, they returned to the stables. The teens slid off their horses, chattering about pictures and posting them online. Ethan loosened Storm’s girth and was about to lead him inside when Mary stepped up beside him.

Mary had been in his grade—a pretty girl, long brown hair, hazel eyes that always looked like she was trying to figure people out. She smiled at him now, soft and familiar.

“Hey, Ethan,” she said. “You going to church on Sunday?”

His stomach tightened. “No. Not anymore.”

She blinked. “Really? My mom talked to your mom. She said you’d be there. Potluck after service.”

He let out a scant breath. “Yeah, well… I’m not going. Ever again.”

Mary tilted her head. “But your mom said.”

“My mother doesn’t speak for me.”