Page 18 of Boss and Brat

Silence. Not the annoyed kind—something heavier.

Then Mr. Evans said, “You should’ve told me before you sent him out.”

Carter straightened. “Why?”

Another pause. Longer this time. Carter could almost hear the man debating whether to say whatever came next.

Finally: “Because Ethan’s been followed before.”

Carter’s stomach dropped. “Followed by who?”

“People he owes money to,” Mr. Evans said. “Or thinks he owes. I don’t know anymore. But last month, someone showed up at his dorm asking for him. Campus security got involved.”

Carter sat forward, boots planted on the floor. The room suddenly felt too small. “You didn’t put that in the file.”

“I didn’t want to scare you off,” Mr. Evans said. “But if he’s off the ranch alone, you need to know.”

“I gave him permission, and I downloaded a location tracker app on his phone.”

Carter’s jaw tightened. He looked toward the window, toward the dust trail Ethan had kicked up on his way out. The kid wasn’t just reckless—he might be in danger. And Carter had just handed him the keys and cash as if it were nothing.

Mr. Evans added, “And don’t let him smoke in your truck.” Then he hung up.

Carter lowered the phone slowly, staring at the blank screen.

Damn. No wonder the kid was all messed up. No wonder he flinched at rules, at authority, at anything that felt like someone closing in.

And now Ethan was out there alone with Carter’s truck, a pocket full of cash, and maybe someone was looking for him. Damn it. Not with this new piece of the puzzle rattling around in his chest like a warning bell.

Chapter Eight

He headed straight for the grocery store, windows down, wind tearing through his hair. Dust curled behind the truck as he hit the main road. For the first time since landing on the ranch, the world didn’t press in on him. He sat behind the wheel like any other guy running errands instead of someone being monitored.

Sunlight warmed his arm through the open window. Music thumped from the radio, steady and loud, and he drummed his fingers on the wheel in time with the beat. The road stretched wide and open, nothing but sky and asphalt ahead. For a few miles, the ranch, the rules, and the constant pressure slipped off his shoulders.

Pieces of his old life drifted back—late-night drives, fast food wrappers on the floor, no one tracking his location or timing his return. Not freedom exactly, but close enough to taste.

And he held onto that feeling for as long as the road let him.

Pieces that hadn’t been taken. Pieces he could still claim.

He grabbed his phone at a red light and fired off a text.

Ethan:At the grocery store. Meet me in the fruit and vegetable aisle.

Sarah:OTW

His pulse quickened. He hadn’t seen his sister in weeks. The thought of her walking toward him—alive, safe, smiling—made his chest tighten in the best way.

Inside the store, he pulled up Carter’s list. The man had a thing for produce. Grapes, apples, berries, greens—half the damn list looked like a farmer’s market exploded. Ethan grabbed plastic bags and started counting out fruit as if he knew what he was doing. He tied each bag neatly, trying to match the tidy rows he’d seen in Carter’s fridge.

He’d never shopped like this. Growing up, his mother handled everything. In college, he lived on dining hall food and whatever fast-food place stayed open past midnight. This whole adult grocery run thing seemed foreign, but weirdly satisfying.

He reached for a container of strawberries when a familiar voice cut through the aisle.

“Ethan!”

Sarah barreled into him, arms tight around his neck. He lifted her off the ground without thinking.