Page 96 of Boss and Brat

Carter didn’t answer right away, instead he watched a wave break against the rocks with the spray glinting in the last of the light.

“I’m not pretending,” Carter said, voice low. “Just… thinking.”

Ethan didn’t push, but his hand drifted across the table, stopping just short of Carter’s. Not touching—waiting. An invitation, not a demand.

Carter hesitated. His fingers twitched toward Ethan’s, then curled back around his glass instead. The ice clinked, betraying the tremor he tried to hide.

Ethan’s expression shifted—hurt emerging there for a second before he masked it with something gentler. “If you don’t want to hold my hand out here, that’s okay,” he said. “Just… don’t shut me out.”

Carter closed his eyes for a beat. He hated Ethan could read him this easily. Hated that he couldn’t explain the mess in his chest without saying too much. Without saying the wrong thing.

“It’s not you,” Carter said, barely above a whisper.

“Okay, then.” Ethan paused. “But it feels like something’s eating at you.”

Carter didn’t answer. He couldn’t—not without laying everything bare. Instead, he reached out and brushed his thumb against the back of Ethan’s hand. Ethan’s shoulders eased. Just a little.

And Carter’s guilt shifted again—no longer a weight, but a soft ache that settled behind his ribs. Not gone. Not even close. But different now, shaped by the way Ethan looked at him. Carter pulled his hand back slowly.

Ethan leaned in, voice low and steady, like he was trying to pull Carter back from whatever edge he’d wandered onto. “Carter… you didn’t take advantage of me. I know what I’m doing. I know what I want.”

Carter swallowed hard. The room felt too tight, too loud, even though no one else was paying them any attention.

“I’m not worried about us ending,” he said. “That’s not it.” His fingers curled against his knee, trying to hold the rest in place. “I just… I don’t want to fail you. Or betray what your father trusted me with.”

The words came out rougher than he meant, but they were the truth. And saying them didn’t make the guilt any lighter.

He took Ethan’s hand again and squeezed, letting the warmth of it bleed into him. “I’m okay,” he said. “Just… thinking.”

Ethan creased his brow. “About us?”

“About everything,” Carter said, which was true enough.

Ethan smiled.

Carter squeezed Ethan’s hand again, softer this time. “Let’s finish dinner,” he said. “We’ll talk more when we get home.”

By the time they climbed into the truck, Carter kept his eyes forward, jaw set, hands steady on the wheel. He didn’t pull away from Ethan. But he didn’t reach for him either. The coastline stretched out ahead of them, wild and open. The shift inside him—was a weight he wasn’t ready to name.

Not yet.

You’re supposed to protect him, not fall for him.

You’re supposed to honor his father’s trust.

You’re supposed to know better.

The road to the beach house curved along the coastline, headlights catching the white churn of the waves. Carter kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, fingers tapping restlessly. Ethan watched the coastline roll by, occasionally glancing at Carter like he was trying to read him without making it obvious.

When they pulled into the long sandy driveway, the house came into view—a turquoise beach place with white trim and awide porch built for ocean breezes. The sign above the steps read SEA GLASS, the letters worn soft by years of salt and sun.

Ethan leaned forward, eyes bright. “I remember playing here in the summers,” he said. “We used to run up and down that porch. Sarah and I would race to see who could get to the water first.”

Carter climbed out of the truck, stretching his back, pretending the tightness in his shoulders was from the drive and not from the mess in his head. Ethan came around the front of the truck and stopped beside him, looking up at the house with a smile.

“This place is beautiful,” Carter said.

“Yeah,” Ethan murmured. “It always felt safe.”