Page 88 of Boss and Brat

Ethan didn’t answer.

Carter glanced down. The kid had fallen asleep against him—completely out, breathing slow and even, his cheek pressed to Carter’s chest like he’d found a place he could rest.

He shifted just enough to get comfortable without waking him, then pulled the blanket over both of them. Ethan curled closer instinctively, fingers gripping the fabric of Carter’s shirt. Carter stared at the ceiling, wide awake, mind racing.

Whoever broke into that cabin had crossed a line. And Carter wasn’t going to let it go. He’d find out who did it. He’d make damn sure they never came near Ethan again. But for now? He held the kid a little tighter. Ethan needed sleep. Safety. Steadiness. And Carter could give him that.

He stayed awake long after Ethan drifted deeper, listening to the quiet rise and fall of his breathing, keeping watch as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Because for Carter, it was.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ethan woke to an empty stretch of bed and a cold dent in the pillow where Carter should’ve been. For a second, panic set in but then movement across the room broke the silence. Boots on wood. A drawer shutting.

Carter turned, his expression easing the instant he caught Ethan awake. He sat beside the bed and kissed him, like he’d been waiting for Ethan to open his eyes.

“I had a phone call,” Carter said. “There’s a situation on the ranch I need to deal with. We need breakfast, then we hit the road.”

Ethan pushed himself up on his elbows, the sheets twisting around his waist. “Okay… what happened?”

Carter hesitated, just long enough for a sharp, needling buzz to crawl up Ethan’s arms, like his nerves were waking up too fast.

“Someone broke into your bedroom at your parents’ home.”

The words didn’t hit like a temperature drop this time—they hit like static under his skin, a warning signal his body didn’t know how to process.

Ethan stared at him. “How? It’s on the second floor.”

“I don’t know,” Carter said. “But your father is furious.”

“At me?” The words came out thin. A tight pull settled across his chest, the same uneven pressure when a saddle slid off-center mid-ride.

“No.” Carter brushed his thumb along Ethan’s jaw. “Not at you.”

“I need a cigarette first.” He swung his legs over the side of the mattress. He didn’t wait for Carter to comment. He cracked open the door and lit a cigarette. Carter stood behind him until he finished.

Ethan’s mind spun through everything in that room—his laptop, his clothes, the shoebox under the bed.

“Before we go anywhere,” he said, “I want to see it. My room. I need to know what’s actually gone.”

Carter nodded. “Alright. We’ll stop there first.”

It wasn’t much—just a small decision, a single direction in a morning already spiraling—but it steadied Ethan more than breakfast ever could.

Ethan tried to breathe around the rising nausea. His room. His things. His laptop, his TV, the clothes he’d saved for years. All of it flashed through his mind like a list of losses waiting to be confirmed.

“So what did they do to my room?” His voice came out thin.

“I don’t know what you had in there,” Carter said. “Your father hired security. He’s got a crew building fences around the cabin and your home.”

Ethan’s heart lurched. “What if they hurt Storm?”

“He didn’t say they went near the horses.”

That helped, but only a little, and the fear left him feeling chilled.

Carter pulled him into his arms, kissing him slow, trying to anchor him. “Let’s get you some food after your shower.”

Ethan nodded and headed to the bathroom. The hot water helped, but not enough. When he came out and pulled on one of Carter’s shirts, the sleeves swallowed his hands. He rolled them up, but they kept sliding back down. He stepped into a pair of Carter’s jeans, zipped them, and they dropped straight to his ankles.