Page 103 of Boss and Brat

Carter’s jaw flexed. “Yes.”

Carter’s honesty hit Ethan like a punch. He looked down at the floor, heat crawling up his neck.

“But,” Carter added, voice softer but still firm, “I’m not doing this because I’m angry. I’m doing it because I was concerned about your immature behavior. And because you ignored a direct warning.”

Ethan nodded again, slower this time. “Okay.”

Carter tipped his head toward the hallway. “Bathroom. Now.”

The word now wasn’t shouted this time, but it still made Ethan’s pulse jump. He turned and walked down the hall, each step feeling heavier than the last. The bathroom door felt like it was a mile away. When he reached it, he paused with his hand on the knob, heart pounding.

Think about why you’re being punished.

Yeah. He knew exactly why.

Ethan pushed the door open, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. The quiet there was even louder. And all he could do was wait.

He sagged back against the door, breath shaking loose. The brightness in the room didn’t feel suffocating—it felt exposing, like the light saw straight through the calm he was pretending to have. Even the low hum of the overhead bulb made his nerves jump, sharp and jittery under his skin.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a slow line from the sink to the shower and back again. His boots thudded against the tile.

Think about why you’re being punished.

Yeah. He didn’t need to think. He knew.

Ethan pressed his palms to the cool edge of the sink, staring at his reflection. His cheeks were still flushed from the ride, but now it was embarrassment more than adrenaline.

Why did I do that? Why can’t I just listen when he tells me something important? He warned me. He literally warned me.

He swallowed hard, throat tight. The guilt sat heavy in his chest, like a weight he couldn’t shake off. He kept replaying the moment Carter yelled his name on the trail—the fear in his voice, the anger that came right after.

Ethan paced the bathroom, rubbing his arms as if he were cold even though the room was warm.

He’s really mad. And he has every right to be.

He paused by the door, listening. Nothing. Just the faint creak of the house settling and the distant sound of waves outside. The waiting was the worst part. His stomach twisted tighter with every second.

Just get it over with. Please.

He didn’t know how long he stood there—maybe a minute, maybe five—before footsteps moved in the bathroom’s direction. Slow. Heavy. Controlled.

The doorknob turned.

The door opened.

Carter stepped inside with a wooden paddle in his hand, closing it behind him. He didn’t look explosive anymore. That almost made it worse. He looked calm, but Ethan could tell Carter was still mad, just in a more controlled, icy way.

“Where did that paddle come from?” Ethan asked.

“My suitcase.”

Ethan squinted his eyes as if he were confused and tried to understand why he’d pack a paddle.

Carter’s eyes swept over him. “Did you think about why you’re in here?”

Ethan nodded. “Yeah. I—I know why.”

Carter stepped closer, not looming, but close enough that Ethan felt the heat of him. His posture was controlled, shoulders squared, and jaw set.