Page 29 of Boss and Brat

Carter’s promise hung in the air long after the words faded. I’ll keep an eye on you. Simple. Steady. Nothing dramatic. But it hit harder than anything Ethan’s father had said.

The barn waited behind him, dark and drafty, the kind of place that swallowed sound and made a person feel small. Cold air slipped through the gaps in the boards, brushing his ankles like a warning. The cot sat in the corner, thin mattress sagging, springs showing through the fabric. A space built for someone temporary. Someone who didn’t matter.

He stepped inside anyway.

The plywood walls rattled when the wind pushed against them, each shudder reminding him how exposed he was out here. Anyone walking by could hear every breath he took. Every restless shift on the cot. Every crack in his voice if he lost it.

But somewhere outside, Carter moved to his truck with that calm, grounded presence—boots steady. The sound carried through the thin walls, faint but unmistakable.

Ethan sat on the edge of the cot, hands braced on his knees. The cold from the metal locker seeped into his side. The mattress groaned under his weight. Not safe here. None of it felt like home.

And yet… the idea of Carter sleeping in his cabin by the lake eased something sharp inside him. Not enough to admit anything. Not enough to make sense of the pull in his stomach. Just enough to keep him from falling apart.

He told himself it was because Carter seemed competent. Reliable. The kind of man who didn’t lose control or walk away.

Not attraction, he insisted, jaw tight. Just relief. Just exhaustion. Just… something else. The lie wobbled, unsteady as the cot beneath him.

The barn settled into silence again, thin walls creaking around him.

Being under Carter’s watch should’ve felt like another punishment. Instead, it felt like the only thing keeping the night from swallowing him whole.

Chapter Twelve

Carter didn’t like the way the barn sat in the dark. Too many gaps in the boards. Too many shadows. Too far from the house. The whole drive back to his cabin, something tugged at him, a quiet pull low in his chest that wouldn’t let up.

By the time he stepped inside his place and stripped down to his underwear, the silence felt wrong. The cabin usually gave him peace. Tonight it felt empty. Hollow. Like he’d left something important behind.

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone. One hour. That was all it had been since he dropped Ethan off. One damn hour and the kid was already in his head.

He grabbed the phone anyway.

Carter:Everything okay over there?

Ethan:Bored.

Carter:Are you going to be okay tonight?

Ethan:I guess so. No TV here. Nothing but me and my phone.

Carter:Get some sleep. Call me if you need me.

The messaging ended, but the unease didn’t. Carter stood, grabbed his jeans, and pulled them on without bothering with a shirt. The night air hit his skin the second he stepped outside, cool and sharp. Gravel crunched under his boots as he crossed the yard to ride his motorcycle.

The barn loomed ahead, a dark shape against the moonlit sky. A faint glow flickered behind it. Smoke drifted up in a thin line.

Ethan.

Carter slowed as he rounded the corner. Ethan leaned against the back wall, a cigarette between his fingers, shoulders hunched as if he were trying to fold himself into the wood.

“Thought you were turning in,” Carter said.

Ethan jumped a little, then tried to play it off. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Carter stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. “Smoking again?”

“Better than in there,” Ethan muttered.

Carter glanced toward the barn. “I thought you agreed to follow my rules, and no smoking was one of them.”