Page 97 of Boss and Brat

Safe. Where wasn’t he safe as a child?And here Carter was, tangled up in feelings he wasn’t sure he had any right to have.

Chapter Thirty-Six

They walked up the porch steps together. The boards creaked under their boots, familiar and worn. Inside, the air was thick with the subtle scent of sea salt, aged timber, and a whisper of citrus. First, Ethan checked out the waves and sandy beach through the sliding glass door.

Ethan dropped his bags on the couch and turned to Carter, studying that same cold intensity he’d had at dinner. “You’re doing it again.”

Carter frowned. “Doing what?”

“Thinking yourself into a hole.” Ethan stepped closer. “You get this look… like you’re carrying something too heavy and you don’t know where to put it.”

“I’m fine.”

“No. You’re not.” Ethan’s voice was gentle, not accusing. “You’ve been off since the restaurant.”

Carter stroked his beard, staring out at the ocean through the window as the waves kept rolling in. “I’m just…” He dragged a hand over his face. “Tired from the drive.”

Ethan stepped beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Tired?”

“Let’s unpack. Where are we sleeping?”

Ethan led Carter to the best room in the house, his grandparents’ suite. Ethan unpacked fast, tossing his clothes into the dresser, thinking about his grandparents. The air still had a hint of cedar and ocean, like those summers he could remember, a feeling he kept somewhere in his heart. Carter said little while they settled in, just moved around the room with that focused, careful way he had when he didn’t want his thoughts to show.

Later, they sat outside on the porch with cans of sparkling water. Carter had stopped at a little market on the way in and grabbed snacks—chips, fruit, some fancy trail mix Ethan pretended not to like but kept eating anyway. The sun was dropping low, turning the water gold, and the breeze carried that cool, salty bite that always meant evening on the coast.

Carter leaned back in the chair beside him, one ankle hooked over his knee, eyes on the horizon. He looked relaxed at first glance, but his fingers kept tapping against the can, a soft metallic rhythm that didn’t match the calm around them.

Ethan watched him for a moment, then set his drink down. “Okay,” he said. “What’s going on with you?”

Carter didn’t look over. “Nothing.”

“Carter.” Ethan shifted his chair closer, close enough that their knees brushed. Carter didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean in either. “If your job is more important… if your commitment to my father comes first… and that secret deal you two have, just tell me. I’ll step back.”

Carter’s head snapped toward him so fast that the chair creaked. “What? No.” His voice came out sharp, and he ran a hand through his hair like he needed to reset himself. “That’s not—Ethan, that’s not even close to what’s happening.”

Ethan’s eyes remained fixed, unblinking. “Then what is happening? And what’s with that secret deal with my father?”

“You think I’d let something come between us?” he said. “You think I’d let anyone separate us?”

Ethan closed his eyes for a few seconds. It was rare to hear Carter speak with such directness and intensity about them as a couple.

Carter leaned forward, his eyes fixed intently on Ethan. “You read me wrong if you think I’m halfway in. I’m in this. With you. Completely.”

The words hit Ethan like a warm rush, but Carter wasn’t done.

“When we get back, we’re talking to your father. Both of us. Together.”

Ethan’s faint breath caught. “You want to tell him?”

“I don’t want secrets,” Carter said. “Not about this. Not about you.”

The breeze shifted, carrying the sound of waves rolling against the rocks below. Carter reached out, brushing his fingers against Ethan’s wrist—light, hesitant, but real.

Ethan didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just let the moment settle between them in the cooling evening air. Carter wasn’t pulling away. He was stepping closer.

Ethan hadn’t expected Carter’s promise to hit as hard as it did. The words were steady, certain—Carter didn’t do dramatic declarations, so when he said something with that much conviction, it landed deep. Warmth spread through Ethan’s chest, but right behind it came a flicker of fear he couldn’t quite shake.

His father never spoke a disparaging word about gay men. But he’d said nothing supportive either. Silence could be its own kind of warning. But as a child, he repeatedly told Ethan he differed from most boys, and that difference caused him to be picked on or bullied. Ethan thought he meant he was born intoan affluent family with every advantage, but maybe he knew all this time, but he didn’t put it into the file he had given Carter.