Chapter Twenty-Two
Ethan pulled back first. Not because he wanted to. Because he was afraid if he stayed in Carter’s arms any longer, he’d say something stupid. Or worse, Carter would feel how hard Ethan’s heart was pounding.
He wiped his eyes quickly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…. fall apart on you.”
Carter shook his head immediately. “Don’t apologize.”
The words were firm, almost sharp, like Carter hated the idea of Ethan being sorry for needing comfort. That alone made Ethan’s throat tighten again.
He cleared his throat and stepped back, creating distance.
“Still,” Carter said, voice lower, steadier, “we gotta keep some boundaries. You can’t… we can’t do this every time something hits hard.”
Ethan nodded, even though the words stung. “Yeah. I get it.”
He didn’t get it. Carter held him like he mattered. Carter held him like he didn’t want to let go. But now Carter was putting the wall back up, brick by brick.
Ethan stared at the lake, pretending it didn’t bother him. Pretending he wasn’t replaying the hug in his head, trying to memorize the warmth of it. He wondered—again—if Carter knew he was gay.
He wasn’t hiding it. But he hadn’t said it out loud either.
Not to Carter. Not since moving to the ranch.
And Carter… Carter didn’t act weird about anything.
Not about Rafael and Andrew being married.
Not about Ethan’s partying past. Not about the way Ethan sometimes looked at him a little too long.
But that didn’t mean Carter was gay. Or even okay with Ethan being gay.
Or okay with Ethan being gay and looking at him like that.
Ethan tried to think of a way to ask. Something casual.
Something that wouldn’t sound like he was fishing for an answer he desperately wanted.
Nothing came to him. Every version in his head sounded pathetic.
“So,” Carter said, breaking the silence, “you good?”
Ethan nodded again. “Yeah. I’m good.” He wasn’t. He was a mess. A confused, grateful, terrified mess.
But Carter was watching him with that steady, protective look again, and Ethan didn’t want to ruin it. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Thanks… for earlier. For listening.”
Carter’s expression softened. “You don’t have to thank me.”
Ethan swallowed. “Feels like I do.”
Carter looked away, like he was fighting something he didn’t want to admit. “Just… don’t make a habit of crying on me.”
Ethan laughed. “I’ll try.”
Carter’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile but wouldn’t let himself. Ethan wished he knew what that meant. Wished he knew what Carter felt. Wished he knew if he was imagining everything. He wished he had the courage to ask. But he didn’t. Not yet.
So he stood there beside Carter, pretending the air between them wasn’t charged, pretending he wasn’t wondering what would happen if he reached for him again. Pretending he wasn’t falling.
They were still sitting on the ridge when Carter broke the quiet.
“So,” Carter said, brushing dirt off his jeans, “what kind of places did you party at in Chico?”
Ethan’s insides pulled tight, like bracing for impact. He hadn’t expected that question. Not now. Not after everything he’d just told him. But maybe… maybe this was the moment. Now or never.
His pulse kicked up, loud in his ears. He stared at the lake, trying to gather courage he wasn’t sure he had.
“Uh… places,” Ethan said weakly.
Carter raised a brow. “That’s not an answer.”
Ethan swallowed hard. His palms were sweating. He wiped them on his jeans. “Okay. Just… don’t freak out.”
Carter frowned. “Why would I freak out?”
Ethan took a breath that didn’t feel like enough. “I went to gay clubs. To dance. And… hook up.”
Carter froze. Not a blink. Not a twitch. Just… still.
Ethan’s heart sank straight through the ground. He shouldn’t have said it. He knew it. He always ruined things by talking too much.
He rushed to fill the silence. “I’m not out. Not really. No one knows I’m gay. Only Sarah. And, uh… the guys I hooked up with.”
Carter still didn’t say anything.
“I shouldn’t have told you. I know that. I just— I didn’t want you thinking I was lying about who I was. Or hiding stuff. I didn’t want it to change how you treat me.”
Carter blinked, like he was coming back to himself. “Ethan…”
“I’m sorry,” Ethan said. “I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you. I know it’s a lot. I know it’s—”
“Ethan.” Carter’s voice cut through his panic, steady and low.
Ethan shut his mouth.
Carter looked at him fully now, eyes softer than before. “You were brave to tell me.”
Ethan stared at him, stunned. “Brave?”
“Yeah,” Carter said. “That’s not easy to say. Not to someone you’re not sure you can trust with it.”
A hard swallow caught Ethan halfway. “So… you’re not mad?”
“No,” Carter said immediately. “And what you shared? It stays between us. I promise.”
A long, deep sigh escaped Ethan, the air filling his lungs after a period of held breath he hadn’t noticed.
Carter continued, “And it doesn’t change anything between us. Not how I treat you. Not how I see you.”
Ethan nodded slowly, relief washing over him so fast it made him dizzy. Carter wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t disgusted. He wasn’t judging.
But Carter had frozen, gone quiet, and looked stunned. Ethan couldn’t stop wondering—
Was it because Carter didn’t expect it? Or because Carter didn’t know what to do with it?
Or because Carter wasn’t straight? Or because he was?
Ethan wanted to ask. He wanted to know. He wanted to understand why Carter looked at him the way he sometimes did.
But he couldn’t figure out a way to ask without sounding intrusive.
Without sounding like he was hoping for something he shouldn’t hope for.
So he just nodded again and said, “Okay.”
Carter gave him a small, steady look—one that felt like a hand on his back, grounding him. “Good.”
Ethan tried to smile, but his mind was spinning. He’d told Carter the truth. Carter hadn’t run. But now Ethan was left with a new question burning in his chest—one he didn’t dare ask
The ride back toward the cabin started quiet.
Not uncomfortable—just… full. Like the air between them was carrying everything Ethan had just confessed and everything Carter hadn’t said in return.
Ethan kept glancing over at Carter on his own motorcycle, trying to read him. Carter looked normal. Focused on the trail. Calm. Maybe too calm.
Ethan’s mind wouldn’t stop spinning in a circle.
Was Carter okay with it? Really okay? Did he freeze because he didn’t expect it? Or because he didn’t know how to react? Or because… maybe… he wasn’t straight?
He hated that he even wondered. He hated that he cared so much. But Carter had held him. Carter had looked at him like he mattered. Carter had promised nothing would change. And yet Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed—at least inside him.
They slowed as the trail narrowed, riding side by side. Carter glanced over. “You’re quiet,” he said.
Ethan shrugged. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous habit,” Carter said, smirking a little.
Ethan’s chest was tight. “You’re not… weirded out? About what I said?”
Carter shook his head. “I told you. It doesn’t change anything.”
Ethan nodded, but the knot in his stomach didn’t loosen. He wanted more than that. He wanted clarity. He wanted to know if Carter was straight, or bi, or something else entirely. He wanted to know if he even had a chance.
He tried to think of a way to ask without sounding like he was fishing. Every version in his head sounded like a confession.
They reached a smoother stretch of trail, and Carter eased off the throttle a little, letting the engines quiet down.
Then Carter said something—casual, offhand, but it hit Ethan like a jolt.
“You know,” Carter said, eyes on the path ahead, “I’ve never cared where people go to meet someone. Gay clubs, straight bars, whatever. People are people.”
Ethan’s heart skipped. Whatever. People are people.
That wasn’t something most straight guys said. Not like that. Not with that tone—steady, sure, like he meant it.
Ethan tried to keep his voice even. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Carter said. “Doesn’t matter who someone’s into. What matters is whether they’re decent.”
Ethan swallowed hard. “And do you think I’m decent?”
Carter shot him a look—quick, warm, almost too warm. “I wouldn’t have you living in my cabin if I didn’t.”
Ethan’s breath caught. That wasn’t nothing. That wasn’t neutral.
That wasn’t the kind of thing a guy said if he was uncomfortable with Ethan being gay. But Ethan still couldn’t bring himself to ask the real question.
He gripped the handlebars tighter, trying to steady himself. “Thanks. For… not making it weird.”
Carter’s voice softened. “Ethan, if anyone made it weird, it’d be me. Not you.”
Ethan blinked. “Why you?”
Carter hesitated—just a beat, but Ethan felt it.
Then Carter said, “Because I’m the one who overthinks everything.”
Ethan stared at him, heart thudding. That wasn’t the answer he expected. That wasn’t a straight answer. That wasn’t a closed door. It felt like Carter was saying something without saying it.
Ethan didn’t push. He couldn’t. Not yet. But the question burned hotter now, sitting right under his tongue.
Was Carter gay? Bi? Curious? Something? He still didn’t know.
But for the first time, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—Carter wasn’t as far away from him as he thought.