Chapter Six
Ethan followed him down the short hallway, his feet dragging a little.
He wasn’t scared—he told himself that twice—but his stomach still tightened as if he were walking into a test he hadn’t studied for.
The kitchen felt even smaller with Carter standing in it, all broad shoulders and quiet authority.
“Sit.” Carter pointed to a chair and stayed standing.
Ethan dropped into the seat, shoulders tight.
He was pretty sure a lecture was coming—almost definitely about the cigarette.
And yeah, maybe he deserved that part. He’d pushed it, blowing smoke right in Carter’s face.
He knew he had. But another part of him wasn’t convinced he’d crossed some unforgivable line; he’d just wanted to see how far he could go.
Wanted to see what Carter would do. Wanted to know where the line actually was… if there even was one.
“I’m going to write out the rules and consequences after we discuss them,” Carter said.
“Rules and consequences?” Ethan asked. “You said expectations.” He sounded annoyed, but he was really feeling a bit thrown off. He’d poked the bear, and now he wasn’t sure what came next.
“First,” Carter said, “your father has given me complete authority over you. Without your agreement, I won’t work with you.”
“He told me already.”
“And?”
Ethan shrugged. “I do what you tell me.”
Carter’s expression didn’t change. “Do you understand what that means?”
“Yeah. You’re in charge.”
“I’m also responsible for your discipline and making sure you follow my orders.”
“I get that. You already said you’d give me the crap jobs or make me work doubles.”
Carter didn’t jump straight into a list. He just watched Ethan for a long, steady second—long enough for heat to crawl up the back of his neck.
The kitchen sat too neat, too lined-up, every surface wiped within an inch of its life.
The place felt like it was sizing him up right alongside Carter, waiting to see if he’d screw something up just by breathing wrong.
“No drugs or cigarettes,” Carter said, voice steady.
Ethan’s jaw tightened. Of course that one came first. His eyes flicked toward the crushed cigarette outside the door, the one Carter had stomped out without blinking. He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. He wasn’t sure if he was guilty or just annoyed.
Carter continued, “And you finish your daily jobs. All of them.”
Ethan shifted in his seat. That one stung a little—not because he didn’t work, but because his father must have said something to him. Something his father exaggerated. Something that made him look lazy. He felt his shoulders tense, like he was bracing for another hit.
“You will eat all three meals with me. So, you will eat healthy,” he said, not looking at Ethan.
Ethan blinked. “Seriously? You’re policing my food now?”
Something twisted in his gut. Irritation flared first, sharp and stupid, but underneath it sat something heavier. Guilt, maybe. Or the uncomfortable truth that most of his own meals came from fast-food bags.
He hated that the comparison even crossed his mind. Hated that it made him feel small. Hated that Carter didn’t have to say a damn thing for the point to land.
Carter turned back to him. “And you don’t lie. You don’t steal.”
That one landed heavier than the others. He stared at the table, tracing a scratch in the wood with his thumb.
Carter stepped closer, his voice low. “When rules are broken, I determine the consequences.”
Ethan swallowed hard. The room felt smaller again, the air thicker. He wasn’t sure if he deserved the lecture, or if he was just used to being told he’d screwed up before he even had the chance.
He looked up at Carter, trying to read him, trying to figure out if this was about control or something else entirely. Something steadier. Something almost… protective.
Either way, the rules weren’t just rules. They were lines. Lines Ethan wasn’t sure he knew how to stay inside. But he also wasn’t sure he wanted to test. Ethan swallowed. He didn’t like the word. Consequences. It felt heavy. Final.
Carter added, “And just so you know, I also use corporal punishment.”
The words hit Ethan like a slap. His breath caught, not out of fear, exactly, but something sharper, something that made heat crawl up his neck.
The kitchen suddenly felt too small, the chair too hard beneath him.
A tight pulse thudded at the base of his throat, and he couldn’t tell if it was anger, embarrassment, or the memory of his father’s voice barking orders he never wanted to hear again.
He stared at Carter, trying to read his face, trying to figure out if this was a threat or just another rule in Carter’s perfectly organized world. The silence stretched, heavy enough to make Ethan’s palms sweat.
He swallowed, the sound loud in his own ears. “Did my father give you permission to… do that?” The words came out before he could stop them—raw, shaky, too honest.
“Yes,” Carter said. “But it won’t happen unless you agree to my rules and consequences.”
Another beat of silence. Longer this time. It settled in his chest like a stone.
“And if I don’t agree?” Ethan asked. His voice came out tighter than he meant, like something inside him was bracing for impact.
“Your father will determine that, not me.”
That did it.
A cold familiar dread slid down Ethan’s spine.
His father. Always his father. Always pulling the strings.
Ethan dropped his gaze to the table, jaw clenching.
He didn’t want that man involved in anything—not his work, not his life, not this.
The thought of being dragged back under his father’s control made his stomach twist.
Agreeing felt like giving something up. Like handing over a piece of himself he wasn’t sure he could spare. But the alternative felt worse.
He let out a slow breath, barely more than a whisper. “Fine. I agree.”
The words tasted bitter, like surrender. But they were out now, and he couldn’t take them back. And the cost of saying them settled heavy in his chest.
He paused, trying to sound casual. “Does breaking all the rules get the same punishment?”
“No. We’ll discuss that now.”
Ethan shifted in his seat, the kitchen feeling too warm, too quiet.
The back of his neck prickled, and a dry tightness crept into his throat—like the air had thickened the longer Carter stared at him.
He tried to swallow, but it didn’t help.
The silence between them stretched, heavy enough to make his chest feel tight.
He needed something—anything—to break it.
“I’m… thirsty,” he muttered, rubbing his palms on his jeans as if that would settle the restless energy buzzing under his skin.
Carter didn’t move. Didn’t soften. Just said, “Drinks are in the refrigerator.”
That steady, even tone only made Ethan’s pulse jump harder.
He pushed back from the table a little too quickly, the chair legs scraping the floor.
The movement felt like an escape—like stepping away from the weight of Carter’s expectations, the rules, the consequences, all of it pressing in on him at once.
He crossed the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to turn his back, to breathe, to let the cool air from the fridge wash over his overheated face as he opened the door.
The fridge was as neat as the rest of the cabin—rows of cans, everything arranged as if Carter had measured the spacing. Ethan grabbed a Coke.
“You want something?” he asked, holding the door open.
“The same as you.”
Ethan handed him a can once he sat back down. Carter cracked it open with a soft hiss.
“I’m impressed you chose Coke and not beer,” Carter said.
“Nothing to be impressed about. I don’t drink.”
Carter raised an eyebrow. “Really. Any reason?”
“I don’t feel like talking about it,” Ethan muttered.
Carter didn’t push. Instead, he said, “Your father compiled a file on you.”
Ethan’s head snapped up. “Are you kidding me?” Anger flared hot in his chest. He suddenly wanted a cigarette more than air.
“Only to assist me,” Carter said calmly.
“Assist you in what?” Ethan snapped.
“The jobs I assign you. If I hadn’t read the file, I might’ve given you work you weren’t suited for. He listed what you’re good at.”
Ethan scoffed. “I’m sure everything in that file is exaggerated.”
“Time will tell.”
A knot tightened in Ethan’s stomach. He needed to find that file. Needed to know what lies—or truths—his father had handed over.
“Well,” Ethan said, taking a long sip of Coke to steady himself, “what are my jobs?”
He tried to sound bored, but his pulse thudded in his ears. Whatever Carter said next was going to shape everything. And Ethan wasn’t sure he was ready for that. Not even close.