Page 44 of Boss and Brat

Carter stayed beside him, leaning against the post, arms crossed, silent but solid.

His mother continued, “I heard you’ve been staying at the ranch with the workers. Your father said you’re doing chores and helping out. That’s wonderful. I knew some structure would help you settle down.”

Ethan closed his eyes. There it was—the tone, the assumption, the way she talked around him instead of to him.

Ethan stared at the dirt between his boots. “Yeah. I heard.”

“Well, good.” She acted like the matter was settled. “It’ll be nice to have you back in the pews.”

Something tightened in Ethan’s stomach. “Mom.”

“Yes?” she answered, too light, too cheerful.

“You didn’t call me.”

A beat of silence. Then she let out a soft laugh that didn’t sound real. “Oh, sweetheart, you know how things get. Busy week. Lots going on.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Her tone sharpened just a little. “Ethan, I don’t see why you’re bringing this up. You’re fine. You’re working. Everything’s moving in the right direction.”

He gripped the phone harder. “You didn’t check on me.”

“I didn’t want to interfere,” she said, voice smooth as glass. “Your father said you needed space.”

“That’s not what I needed.” Ethan raised his voice.

“Well,” she said, breezy again, “you’re safe now, and that’s what matters. And Sunday—”

“Mom,” he cut in, even louder this time. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Another pause. Longer. He could almost hear her deciding which version of the truth she wanted to pretend was real.

Finally, she said, “I didn’t think it would help.”

Ethan’s breath caught. “Help who?”

She didn’t answer.

He swallowed hard. “Me? Or him?”

Still nothing.

Her silence suffocated him every time she’d chosen comfort over honesty.

He forced the words out. “You didn’t call because it was easier not to.”

Her inhale was sharp, offended. “Ethan, that’s not fair.”

“It’s true.”

She didn’t deny it. She just pivoted again, fast and clean. “You’ll feel better once you’re back at church. Everyone will be so happy to see you.”

He closed his eyes, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he bit down.

His mother didn’t even pause long enough to acknowledge the silence between them. “Ethan, listen—everyone at church has been asking about you,” she said, her voice bright and practiced, like she’d been waiting to slip into that tone. “They’re expecting you on Sunday especially Mary.”

“Mom.” He cut her off before she could hide behind his father again. “I was living in that old green barn alone. You didn’t come. You didn’t check on me.”