Chapter Seventeen Ethan
Ethan stepped out of the stall, brushing straw off his jeans. Carter watched him for a second, something unreadable in his eyes, before turning back to the horse.
Ethan walked toward the barn doors, the sunlight spilling across the dirt. His chest still felt tight, but the pressure eased a little knowing Carter had stepped in—again. And that scared him too. Because every time Carter showed up like that, it got harder to pretend he didn’t want him to.
Ethan sat on the bench outside the stables with a cigarette burning between his fingers.
The late-afternoon sun hit the gravel in long streaks, warm but not enough to loosen the knot in his stomach.
Smoke curled up past his face, sharp and familiar, something to hold on to while everything else spun.
He heard Carter’s boots before he saw him.
“You hiding out here?” Carter asked.
Ethan shrugged. “Taking a break.”
Carter leaned against the post beside him, arms crossed. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched the smoke drift. Ethan hated how seen that made him feel.
“You want to tell me what that was about?” Carter asked.
Ethan flicked ash onto the dirt. “Mary. Church. My mom.”
Carter waited.
Ethan took a long drag, letting the burn settle in his lungs before he spoke. “She didn’t call me. Didn’t visit. Didn’t even text to ask if I was alive. But she told Mary’s mom I’d be at church on Sunday like nothing happened.”
Carter’s jaw tightened a little. “That bother you?”
Ethan gave a fake laugh. “Yeah, it bothers me. She acts like I’m some… extension of her. Like she can just sign me up for whatever makes her look good. Potluck, choir, youth group. Doesn’t matter if I want it.”
He rubbed his thumb along the filter, restless. “I was in that barn. She knew. She didn’t come. But she’s already planning where I’m supposed to sit on Sunday.”
Carter shifted his weight. “You want to call her?”
Ethan hesitated. He did. He didn’t. He wanted to scream at her. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted her to say she was sorry. He wanted her to say anything.
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “If I call, I’ll lose it.”
Carter shook his head. “If you call, stay respectful. But tell her the truth. Firm. Clear. No yelling. No backing down.”
Ethan scoffed. “Yeah, right. She’ll talk over me like always.”
“Not if you don’t let her,” Carter said. “You’re not a kid anymore.”
Ethan stared at the cigarette burning down between his fingers. “Feels like I am when it comes to her.”
Carter stepped closer, voice low. “Then this is how you stop feeling like that.”
Ethan swallowed hard. The idea of calling his mother made his stomach twist, but the idea of not calling her—of letting her keep deciding things for him—felt worse.
He flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. “What do I even say?”
“Start with the truth,” Carter said. “Tell her you’re safe. Tell her you’re working. Tell her you’re not going to church on Sunday.”
Ethan huffed. “She’ll lose her mind.”
“Then let her,” Carter said. “You’re not living under her roof. She doesn’t get to run your life from a distance.”
Ethan looked up at him, surprised by the heat in Carter’s voice.
“Do you think I can do that?” Ethan asked.
Carter nodded once. “Yeah. I do.”
Something shifted inside him, a tight pull low in his stomach that made his breath catch.
His fingers went cold around the phone as he took it out of his pocket, even though his palms were damp.
The screen blurred for a second before he blinked hard, steadying it.
He pulled up his mother’s name, thumb hovering over the call button, the muscles in his hand twitching like they couldn’t decide whether to hold on or drop the damn thing.
Carter didn’t move. “I’m right here.”
Ethan took a breath. And hit call. Ethan held the phone to his ear, the beat in his ear tapping like a loose wire sparking under his skin. Each ring buzzed through the speaker with a metallic edge, steady and intrusive, like it was drilling straight into the space behind his ribs.
His mother answered on the third ring.
“Ethan?” Her voice was bright, practiced, the same tone she used when greeting people at church. “Honey, I’ve been meaning to call you.”
Ethan’s stomach twisted. Meaning to. Right.
He swallowed. “Hey, Mom.”
Carter stayed beside him, leaning against the post, arms crossed, silent but solid.
His mother continued, “I heard you’ve been staying at the ranch with the workers. Your father said you’re doing chores and helping out. That’s wonderful. I knew some structure would help you settle down.”
Ethan closed his eyes. There it was—the tone, the assumption, the way she talked around him instead of to him.
Ethan stared at the dirt between his boots. “Yeah. I heard.”
“Well, good.” She acted like the matter was settled. “It’ll be nice to have you back in the pews.”
Something tightened in Ethan’s stomach. “Mom.”
“Yes?” she answered, too light, too cheerful.
“You didn’t call me.”
A beat of silence. Then she let out a soft laugh that didn’t sound real. “Oh, sweetheart, you know how things get. Busy week. Lots going on.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Her tone sharpened just a little. “Ethan, I don’t see why you’re bringing this up. You’re fine. You’re working. Everything’s moving in the right direction.”
He gripped the phone harder. “You didn’t check on me.”
“I didn’t want to interfere,” she said, voice smooth as glass. “Your father said you needed space.”
“That’s not what I needed.” Ethan raised his voice.
“Well,” she said, breezy again, “you’re safe now, and that’s what matters. And Sunday—”
“Mom,” he cut in, even louder this time. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Another pause. Longer. He could almost hear her deciding which version of the truth she wanted to pretend was real.
Finally, she said, “I didn’t think it would help.”
Ethan’s breath caught. “Help who?”
She didn’t answer.
He swallowed hard. “Me? Or him?”
Still nothing.
Her silence suffocated him every time she’d chosen comfort over honesty.
He forced the words out. “You didn’t call because it was easier not to.”
Her inhale was sharp, offended. “Ethan, that’s not fair.”
“It’s true.”
She didn’t deny it. She just pivoted again, fast and clean. “You’ll feel better once you’re back at church. Everyone will be so happy to see you.”
He closed his eyes, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he bit down.
His mother didn’t even pause long enough to acknowledge the silence between them. “Ethan, listen—everyone at church has been asking about you,” she said, her voice bright and practiced, like she’d been waiting to slip into that tone. “They’re expecting you on Sunday especially Mary.”
“Mom.” He cut her off before she could hide behind his father again. “I was living in that old green barn alone. You didn’t come. You didn’t check on me.”
Silence. A long one.
Then she sighed. “Ethan, you know how your father is. I didn’t want to make things worse.”
Ethan pinched an unlit cigarette between his fingers, rolling it back and forth while the phone stayed pressed to his ear. His thumb kept flicking the lighter open and shut without sparking it, the metal clicked sharp in his ears.
“You didn’t want to make things worse for him,” he said, voice tight. “So, you knew where I was living. You knew I wasn’t staying with the workers.”
“That’s not fair,” she said, voice tightening. “I prayed for you every night.”
He let out a breath that felt like it scraped his ribs. “I didn’t need prayers. I needed you.”
Carter shifted beside him, not stepping in, just grounding him with his presence.
His mother’s voice softened, but not in a comforting way — more like she was smoothing wrinkles out of a tablecloth. “Sweetheart, you’re overreacting. And I told the ladies at church you’d be at service on Sunday. Everyone’s excited to see you.”
Ethan’s throat closed up. “I’m not going.”
“Of course you are,” she said, almost laughing. “Don’t be dramatic. There’s a potluck afterward. Mary’s mother said—”
“Mom, I’m not going back there.”
Her tone sharpened. “Ethan, you will go. You owe it to your community. To your family. To God.”
He felt heat rise in his chest — anger, hurt, all tangled. “I don’t owe them anything. I don’t owe you church attendance.”
“Watch your tone,” she snapped.
Ethan pulled his hair. Carter stepped closer, voice low enough only Ethan heard. “Steady. Keep your voice calm.” He placed his hand on Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan took a breath. “Mom,” he said, “I’m not going. I’m working now. I’m living at the cabin. I’m doing my own thing.”
“You’re living with that ranch hand? Mr. Higgins?” she asked, voice dripping with disapproval. “Ethan, that’s not appropriate. People will talk.”
Ethan’s heart kicked hard. “I don’t care what people say.”
“Well, I do,” she said. “And you should too.”
He shook his head, eyes burning. “I’m not coming on Sunday. And you don’t get to make plans for me anymore.”
His mother went silent again—the kind of silence that used to make him fold. But he didn’t fold this time.
Finally she said, cold and clipped, “If that’s how you feel, I don’t know what else to say.”
Ethan swallowed. “Yeah. I guess not.”
“I’ll pray for you,” she said.
He almost laughed. “Okay.”
He hung up before she could say anything else. His hand dropped to his lap, the phone trembling between his fingers. He stared at the ground, breath trembling, chest tight in a way that hurt.
Carter didn’t speak right away. He just sat down beside him on the bench, close enough that Ethan felt the warmth of him.
“You did good,” Carter said.
Ethan let out a rough breath. “Didn’t feel good.”
“Doesn’t have to,” Carter said. “It just has to be honest.”
Ethan nodded, eyes stinging. “She didn’t even ask if I was okay.”
“That’s on her. Not you.”
Ethan leaned forward, trying to breathe past the ache. “Why does it still hurt?”
Carter’s voice softened. “Because you care. Doesn’t mean she gets to run your life.”
Ethan nodded again, slower this time.
For the first time all day, the knot in his chest loosened — not gone, but not choking him anymore. And Carter stayed right there beside him, steady as a wall.
He stared at his phone like it was on fire. His breath turned shallow and uneven. The bench felt too small; the air too thin. He set the phone beside him and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.
Carter didn’t move at first. He just stayed there, letting the moment settle.
Then Ethan’s breath hitched.
Once.
Twice.
And then everything he’d been holding back cracked open.
“Not once did she talk to me, only around me.”
Carter stayed still beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. “I know.”
Ethan shook his head hard. “No, you don’t know. She—she always does this. Pretends everything’s fine. Pretends I’m fine. Like I’m some… project she can fix with church and potlucks.”
His voice wavered, and he hated it. He hated how young he sounded.
Carter didn’t flinch. “You’re allowed to be pissed.”
“I’m not just pissed. I’m… I don’t know. I’m tired. I’m tired of trying to be what she wants. I’m tired of her acting like I’m a problem she has to fix.”
His eyes burned, and he blinked fast, but the tears still came. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, embarrassed.
Carter reached out and put a warm hand on the back of Ethan’s neck. Not pulling him in, not forcing anything — just grounding him.
“Breathe,” Carter said. “Slow.”
Ethan tried. His breath stuttered, but he tried.
Carter kept his hand there, thumb brushing once against Ethan’s skin. “You did the right thing calling her. You told her the truth. That takes guts.”
Ethan let out a rough laugh. “Didn’t feel like guts. Felt like I was gonna throw up.”
“Still did it,” Carter said. “That counts.”
Ethan leaned forward, hands shaking. “Why does it hurt so much? She doesn’t even care.”
Carter shook his head. “She cares. Just not in the way you need. And that’s on her, not you.”
Ethan’s voice cracked. “She didn’t say anything I needed to hear.”
Carter didn’t pull away or make it weird. He just stayed right there beside him, steady as stone.
“You deserved that,” Carter said. “You still do.”
Ethan wiped his face again, breath slowing. The ache in his chest didn’t disappear, but it loosened, like someone had cut the rope holding it tight.
Carter nudged his shoulder. “You done beating yourself up?”
Ethan sniffed. “Maybe.”
“Good,” Carter said. “Because we’re heading back soon. And you’re not going through the rest of the day looking like someone kicked your puppy.”
Ethan laughed.
Carter stood and held out a hand. “Come on.”
Ethan took it.
Carter pulled him up with one solid tug, steadying him when his knees wobbled. Ethan didn’t feel alone.