Page 94 of Boss and Brat

The difference hit Ethan hard—his father talked like he was assigning a task. Carter talked like he was making a promise.

They said their goodbyes, and his father headed toward the workers again, barking orders and pointing at fence lines.

Ethan watched him go, feeling hollow and heavy at the same time. The kind of tiredness that settled into his bones.

Carter touched his shoulder lightly. “Come on, Ethan. Let’s get inside.”

Ethan nodded, grateful for the excuse to move, grateful Carter was still there, grateful he didn’t have to face any of this alone. Everything was too big, too fast, like the world was shifting under his feet and he couldn’t find anything solid to hold onto.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Carter packed fast, movements sharp and controlled. Shirts folded into neat lines, duffel zipped before the fabric even settled. He hauled the gear outside, the cool air hitting the tension riding high in his shoulders. He set everything in the truck a little too carefully—trying to hide the edge he hadn’t shaken off.

They lifted each bike into the truck bed, muscle memory doing most of the work. Still, Carter’s grip stuck on the handlebars a beat too long, knuckles pale against the metal. The ratchet straps snapped tight, each click louder than it should’ve been in the quiet morning.

Ethan didn’t say anything, but Carter felt the kid watching him. Curious. Maybe worried. Carter kept his eyes on the bikes, pretending to check the straps again even though he’d already checked them twice.

Mr. Evans had already sent the directions.

Glass Beach.

The family’s beach house.

Carter tried not to think too much about what it meant that Ethan’s father trusted him enough to send them there together. Every ounce of the weight of trust settled upon his shoulders.

They hit the road, grabbed food, then ended up at the mall because Ethan needed clothes. Carter told himself it was practical—Ethan did need new things after the break-in—but the truth slipped through in small ways he couldn’t hide.

Every time Ethan held something up—jeans, a shirt, even that stupid backwards cap—Carter felt his mouth twitch. The kid lit up over everything, and it got to him more than he liked to admit.

He used Mr. Evans’s card to grab the basics: jeans, shirts, shorts, trunks. Ethan pointed at a tablet, and Carter didn’t even think—just added it. Then he saw the boots. His kind. Slip ons, no laces. He grabbed a pair in Ethan’s size before he could talk himself out of it. Something about Ethan wearing boots like his hit deeper than he wanted to unpack. He tossed trunks, boots, and sandals for both of them on the counter with his own card.

Too much. He knew it. But Ethan looked happy, and Carter couldn’t bring himself to say no. Ethan thanked him each time for everything.

Back in the truck, he gripped the wheel instead of starting the engine. His thumb tapped against the leather, nerves running ahead of him. Ethan shifted beside him, waiting.

Carter stared out at the parking lot lights, everything a little blurred at the edges. The words slipped out before he could stop them. “What if I’m taking advantage of you? What if she was right?” It wasn’t careful or planned—just fear hitting hard and fast. His knuckles went white on the wheel.

Ethan turned toward him immediately. “Carter, stop.”

But the panic was already there, buzzing under his skin. Carter couldn’t. The words had been sitting in his chest since they left the cabin.

“I mean… yes, your father hired me to protect you as my secondary job. My primary job is to run the ranch. And I’m here, not at the ranch, buying you half a damn mall with his credit card and taking you to your family beach house like—” He exhaled hard. “Like I forgot what my job even is.”

“Carter,” Ethan said again, softer this time. “I came out to you. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do.”

“Ethan, you’re only twenty-one and I’m twenty-eight. I’m seven years older than you.”

“So what? I want an older man. You can’t tell me what I like or want.”

Carter wanted to believe that. He did. Doubt continued creeping in. “But one day soon we have to tell your father.”

“Then what happens if we tell him?” Ethan shrugged. “If he hates us, then he hates us. Like your family.”

That hit harder than Ethan probably meant it to. Carter swallowed, finally started the engine and drove, eyes fixed on the road, fingers tightening on the wheel until the leather creaked. He wanted to reach for Ethan’s hand—just a brush of his knuckles, something small—but he kept both hands where they were, like moving even an inch would cross a line he wasn’t sure he had the right to blur.

“I want to be with you,” Carter said, the words rough around the edges. “I just… there’s a lot tied up in this. More than I know how to explain.”

He didn’t look over. Couldn’t. Not when the weight of Mr. Evans’s trust sat between them like a third passenger.