Page 9 of Boss and Brat

“I said okay.”

Ethan pushed his plate away, appetite seemingly gone. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

Ethan’s voice cracked—just a hair. “Why do you even care?”

Carter said, “Because someone should.”

Ethan’s breath hitched, barely audible, but Carter heard it. Ethan blinked fast, as if he were trying to clear something before it showed.

He covered it with his lousy attitude. “You don’t even know me.”

“Not yet.”

Ethan swallowed hard. “You’re not supposed to… care.”

“Too late,” Carter said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m in this now.”

Ethan looked away, out the window like he was fighting something back. “I don’t… I don’t know how to talk about that stuff.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Carter said. “Not today.”

Ethan nodded once, small and shaky. And Carter saw it. And it hit him harder than he expected.

Chapter Four

Ethan pretended to focus on the last of his toast while his mind kept drifting to the man sitting opposite him. Boss Carter. Broad shoulders, a steady voice, hazel eyes that didn’t look through him the way most adults did. Ethan hated how much he noticed. Hated how much he wanted to be noticed.

He wished—just for a second—that he had someone like Carter in his life. Someone solid. Someone who didn’t flinch when he pushed back. Someone who might actually stay. But he’d never let Carter know that. Not in a million years.

Mrs. Wilcox spotted them before Ethan even realized she was in the diner. He caught a flash of her floral blouse first—loud pink roses on stiff fabric—and his stomach dropped. She moved toward their booth with that tight-lipped determination church ladies got when they smelled sin.

Ethan’s pulse spiked.Not her. Not here. Not today.

She stopped right at their table and stared straight at him, eyes sharp behind her glasses. Her gray hair was pinned so tightit looked like it hurt, and her perfume hit him like a wall—powdery, sweet, suffocating.

“Well,” she said, voice carrying across half the diner, “if it isn’t the Evans boy.”

His throat clamped shut, fingers turning icy against the table.

“I heard all about you,” she continued, leaning in as if she had every right. “Partying all night. Drinking. Dancing with the devil instead of going to class. You disgraced your family, young man. Absolutely disgraced them.”

Heat crawled up Ethan’s neck. His face burned. He stared at his plate, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at Carter. Couldn’t look anywhere.

She wasn’t done.

“Your poor parents,” she said, voice rising. “Imagine raising a boy who throws away his future to roll around in sin.”

Ethan’s body had locked up. Every word she said was a nail pinning him to the seat. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to defend himself. Didn’t know how to breathe.

Before he could even try, Carter stood up. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… steady. Solid. Unmovable. “Ma’am,” Carter said, voice low, “you weren’t invited to this booth.”

Mrs. Wilcox blinked, thrown off. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not your place to speak to him like that,” Carter said. “Not here. Not anywhere.”

She opened her mouth, but Carter didn’t give her the chance.