Page 101 of Boss and Brat

He hated this feeling—this sinking, twisting guilt that sat low in his stomach.

Why did I do that? Why couldn’t I just listen? He told me once. One rule. One warning.

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.

Ethan finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Carter… I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

Carter didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink. His hands stayed locked on the wheel, knuckles pale, like keeping the truck steady was the only thing stopping him from saying something he’d regret.

Ethan shifted in his seat, shoulders curling in. “I wasn’t trying to make you worry. I just… got carried away.”

Carter’s voice came out rough. “Well, you did.”

Ethan winced. That hurt more than yelling. More than anything.

The truck hummed along the highway; the sun dipping low, painting everything in warm gold that didn’t match the icy knot in Ethan’s stomach.

He shifted in his seat, fingers picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “I just… I got excited. It felt—”

“Ethan.” Carter’s tone cut him off. Not loud. Just sharp. “Stop talking.”

Ethan froze. His throat closed up.

Okay. Yeah. He’s really mad. Like… really mad.

Carter exhaled through his nose as if he were trying to keep himself together. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Badly. Do you understand that?”

Ethan nodded quickly. “I do. I swear I do.”

“Then why didn’t you act like it?”

Ethan didn’t have an answer. Not one that wouldn’t sound stupid. “I don’t know,” he said.

Carter shook his head, eyes still forward. “You’re damn lucky we’re even having this conversation and not sitting in an ER.”

Ethan sank lower in his seat, heat crawling up his neck. Shame. Embarrassment. And something else—something that made his pulse jump every time Carter’s voice dropped like that.

The closer they got to the beach house, the thicker the air grew. Like the truck itself knew what was coming.

Beside Ethan, Carter’s anger simmered, a quiet, controlled rage that hadn’t at all subsided. Every mile made Ethan’s stomach twist tighter.

He glanced at Carter’s hands on the wheel. Strong. Steady. Furious.

Ethan swallowed.

Yeah… I’m in for it. And he’s not cooling off at all.

As the beach house’s driveway came into view, Ethan’s heart hammered against his ribs, the forceful beat echoing in his throat.

Whatever was waiting for him inside… Carter wasn’t letting this go. Not tonight.

The truck rolled to a stop in front of the cabin, gravel crunching under the tires. Carter killed the engine, but he didn’t move. He just sat there like he was counting to ten in his head.

Ethan didn’t move either. His hand hovered over the seatbelt buckle, but he didn’t click it. His entire body tightened, as if he shifted even an inch he’d set Carter off again.

Finally, Carter spoke—short, clipped. “Get out.”

Ethan swallowed. “Carter… can we just—”