Page 86 of Boss and Brat

“Thanks,” Carter said.

His father gave a stiff nod, then headed for the door. “I’ll check in tomorrow. Lock up. Don’t open the door for anyone.”

When the door shut behind him, the cabin’s silence pressed into him. Too heavy.

“He thinks it’s my fault,” Ethan said.

Carter stepped closer, voice steady. “No. He’s scared. And when people are scared, they say stupid things. But none of this is on you.”

Ethan nodded, but the knot in his chest didn’t loosen. Not yet. But Carter’s presence—solid, steady, unshakable—kept him from falling apart.

Chapter Thirty-One

The ranch hands showed up just after Mr. Evans left—three men Carter trusted, all of them carrying toolboxes and plywood. They didn’t ask questions, didn’t make comments. They had just got to work, sweeping glass, boarding the windows, and cleaning the kitchen floor until the place looked less like a crime scene and more like a home again.

Carter appreciated that. Ethan needed quiet, not gossip.

Ethan hovered near him the whole time, still shaken, still pale. Every loud noise made him flinch. Every time someone walked past the guest room, he tensed. Carter hated it. Hated seeing him like that. Hated that someone had done this to him. When the men finished and drove off, the cabin’s silence was deafening. Too vulnerable.

Carter made the call instantly. “We’re not sleeping here tonight.”

Ethan blinked. “We’re not?”

“Nope.” Carter grabbed a duffle from the closet and started tossing clothes inside—shirts, jeans, and socks. Then he pausedand grabbed a few of his things for Ethan. “You’re coming with me.”

Ethan didn’t argue. He just nodded.

Carter locked the cabin up tight, double-checked the windows, then guided Ethan to the truck with a hand on his back. The kid leaned into the touch as if he needed it.

They drove an hour out—far enough that the tension in Carter’s shoulders eased a little. He went for a tiny motel on the side of the road, the type with a neon sign and a peaceful parking area. Nothing fancy, but safe enough.

Inside the lobby, Carter kept his voice low. “Two beds, please.”

The clerk didn’t look twice. Just handed over the key cards.

Carter appreciated that too.

When they stepped into the room, Ethan dropped a bag by the door and looked around. Two beds, fresh sheets, a little table, and a TV screwed to the wall. Nothing special.

But the moment the door clicked shut behind them, something shifted. Ethan stood there, arms wrapped around himself, looking diminished and tired, and breakable. Carter’s protective instinct flares up again—hot, impossible to ignore.

Carter set his bag down and stepped closer. “You okay?”

Ethan nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Thinking.”

Carter sat on the edge of his bed. “About who did it.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “You think it was them?”

Carter exhaled slowly. “I don’t know. Could’ve been those guys after you. Could’ve been someone else. Could’ve been your mother hiring someone, but I don’t have proof.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “She wanted control.”

Ethan stiffened. “She wouldn’t—”

“She might,” Carter said. “But I’m not accusing anyone until I know for sure.”

“You think she hates me that much?”

He rubbed a hand over his face and yes he thought she wanted to control Ethan at any cost. “I’m not sitting on this. I’m gonna find out who did it.”