Page 73 of Boss and Brat

Neither of them answered. Carter didn’t trust himself to speak, and Ethan looked like he wanted to disappear.

She spun around, face tight with fury. “This arrangement is wrong. I’m going to make sure it ends.”

She threw Ethan’s Bible on the couch, then marched out and slammed the door so hard the windows rattled.

The door had barely stopped rattling before the silence hit—heavy, sharp, too damn loud.

Ethan stood in the middle of the living room like someone had unplugged him. His shoulders were tight, his hands shaking at his sides. He wasn’t even blinking.

Carter exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, then crossed the space and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Ethan swallowed hard, eyes shining with something between fear and humiliation. He leaned into Carter’s touch like he needed it to stay upright.

And Carter felt that protective heat rise in his chest again—stronger this time, sharper. No way in hell was he letting anyone rip this kid out of his home.

Not now. Not ever.

A hollow, sinking feeling spread through Carter’s core. “Ethan,” he said.

That was all it took.

Ethan’s breath hitched—once, twice—and then everything inside him seemed to collapse at once. His face crumpled, and he pressed both hands to his mouth like he was trying to hold the sound in. A broken, choked noise still slipped out.

“Hey—hey, come here.”

Ethan didn’t move at first. He just stood there trembling, eyes shiny and wide like he’d been hit. Then he was in Carter’s arms, burying his face in Carter’s chest.

His whole body shook.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Stop.” Carter wrapped both arms around him, pulling him in tight. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Ethan’s fingers curled into Carter’s shirt like he was afraid Carter might disappear. His breath came in fast, uneven bursts against Carter’s collarbone.

“She hates me,” Ethan choked out. “She—she looked at me like—like I’m—”

“She’s scared,” Carter said. “And she’s wrong. But you’re not whatever she thinks you are.”

Ethan shook his head hard, tears soaking into Carter’s shirt. “She’s gonna ruin everything. She always does. She—she won’t stop.”

Carter slid a hand up Ethan’s back, thumb brushing slow. “Breathe for me,” he murmured. “Slow. Right here.”

Ethan tried. His breath stuttered, but he tried.

Carter kept grounding him—steady pressure on his back, warm hand at his neck, quiet voice in his ear. “You’re safe. She can’t drag you out of here. She doesn’t get to decide your life.”

Ethan’s grip tightened. “I don’t want to go with her,” he said, terrified. “I don’t want to leave.”

“You’re not leaving,” Carter said, firm enough that Ethan looked up at him. “I’m not letting anyone take you out of this cabin. Not today. Not ever unless you want to go.”

Ethan blinked, tears still clinging to his lashes. “You promise?”

Carter cupped his cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “Yeah. I promise.”

Ethan leaned into the touch like it was the only solid thing in the room. His shoulders slowly loosened, the panic easing just enough for him to breathe again.

Carter kept him close, kept him steady, kept him grounded. Because if Ethan was falling apart, then Carter sure as hell wasn’t letting him fall alone.