Chapter Twenty-Three
The ride back to the cabin felt longer than usual. Not because of the distance—because of the weight sitting in Carter’s chest. Ethan rode beside him, quiet but not tense, as if he were thinking hard. Carter was thinking too. Too damn much.
Ethan being gay didn’t bother him. What bothered him was how relieved he’d felt hearing it.
How something inside him had loosened, like a knot he didn’t know he’d been carrying.
And that scared the hell out of him. He was Ethan’s boss.
Mr. Evans had trusted him with his son. He had a responsibility, a line he wasn’t supposed to cross.
But every time Ethan looked at him with those open, hopeful eyes, that line blurred. By the time they reached the cabin, Carter felt the pressure between them like humidity before a storm—heavy, close, settling under his collar and making it hard to breathe the way he normally did around people.
Carter headed straight for the kitchen. Cooking gave him something to do with his hands, something to focus on besides the kid watching him from the doorway like he was trying to read his soul.
He washed his hands and pulled out a skillet, set it on the stove, and started chopping vegetables. His knife hit the cutting board a little harder than necessary.
Ethan leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Carter said too quickly.
Ethan didn’t buy it. His gaze stayed on Carter—warm, curious, steady enough to raise a prickle along Carter’s skin. The kind of attention that made him too aware of the space between them and how easily it could close.
He stirred the pan, trying to look busy. “You hungry?”
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “But… are you sure you’re okay?”
Carter exhaled through his nose. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
Carter hesitated. Then he said something he immediately regretted. “About how much you trust me.”
Ethan blinked. “Is that… bad?”
“No,” Carter said, voice low. “It’s not bad. It’s just… a lot.”
Ethan’s expression softened, and Carter felt that dangerous warmth again. He turned back to the stove before Ethan could see it.
They sat down at the table a few minutes later, plates between them, facing each other. The silence wasn’t awkward—just charged. Like both of them were waiting for the other to say something first.
Ethan pushed his food around with his fork. “Can I ask you something?”
Carter’s gut clenched hard enough to steal his focus. “Depends.”
Ethan looked up, eyes steady. “Have you ever been to a gay club?”
Carter froze.
Completely.
His fork hovered halfway to his mouth. His breath stalled. His mind blanked. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe.
Ethan’s face fell instantly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” Carter cut in, voice rough. “It’s not that.” He set his fork down slowly, carefully, as if any sudden movement might give him away. “We’ll talk about it after dinner.”
Ethan nodded, but worry crept into his expression—the kind that tightened his mouth and pulled his shoulders in. The kid clearly thought he’d messed up, like he’d stepped over some invisible line Carter hadn’t even drawn.
But the truth was… Carter didn’t know what the hell to say.
If he lied, he’d break the trust Ethan had just given him.
If he told the truth, he’d open a door he wasn’t sure he had the right to open.
He battled himself hard. He wasn’t ashamed of who he was.
He wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done or where he’d been.
But he was terrified of what it meant now—here—with Ethan sitting across from him, looking at him like the answer mattered. Because it did. To both of them.
Carter picked up his fork again, but his appetite was gone. His pulse throbbed in his ears. He didn’t know what he was going to say after dinner. He just knew one thing for sure: Whatever he said… it was going to change everything.
Dinner had been quiet—too quiet—until Ethan broke the silence.
Ethan pushed a piece of chicken around his plate, shoulders tight like he was waiting for someone to snap at him.
“It’s my fault,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t’ve brought up…
stuff like that at dinner.” He kept his eyes down.
“Growing up, we weren’t allowed to talk about anything that might make my dad angry.
No sad stuff. No real stuff. If I said the wrong thing, he’d tell me to get up and go to my room. No dinner.”
Carter set his fork down again, the scrape louder than he meant.
That hit harder than he expected—too familiar in ways he didn’t want to unpack.
“Ethan… that’s not how a family’s supposed to be.
” He kept his voice steady, but something in his chest pulled tight.
“My parents had their own strict rules too. Ones I’d rather forget. ”
Something twisted in Carter’s chest. Jesus. He looked down at his fork, trying to keep his voice steady. “Ethan… that’s not normal.” It was a toss-up as to which of Ethan’s parents was more problematic.
Ethan shrugged like he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. “It’s just how it was.”
“I haven’t returned to Texas since I left.”
That earned him a quick glance from Ethan—curious, soft, almost grateful—but Carter looked away before he let it linger. He didn’t want to open that door. Not tonight. Not when he was already fighting the urge to reach across the table and touch the kid’s hand.
When the last dish was dried and the counters wiped down, Carter exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the whole time.
“Let’s go outside,” he said. “By the lake. We should talk.”
Ethan nodded, almost too quickly, like he’d been waiting for that.
They pulled on their boots and stepped out into the cool night.
The air smelled of pine and damp earth, and the lake reflected the moon in broken silver pieces.
They walked until they reached the trees near the shoreline, then sat down opposite each other, backs against separate trunks but close enough that Carter could see every shift in Ethan’s expression.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Carter forced himself to start. “About the gay clubs…”
Ethan met Carter’s eyes, nervous but curious.
Carter rubbed his palms on his jeans. “Yeah. I went to them. Did the same things you did when you were in Chico.”
Ethan frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”
Carter huffed a soft laugh, more tired than amused. “It means I danced. And I hooked up.”
Ethan’s breath caught, just barely. Carter saw it.
He looked out at the lake, letting the memories settle.
“When I came back to the ranch in Texas, things had to change. Or I had to leave. My brothers bullied me growing up. My parents were disgusted that I didn’t like sports, especially killing things.
Hunting season was big back there. So, I left. Started over.”
Ethan listened like every word mattered.
“I thought joining the Marines would fix everything,” Carter said. “Make me… like others. Or at least make the noise in my head shut up.” He shook his head. “It didn’t. Eventually, I realized I had to live the life I chose. Not the one they wanted.”
When he looked back at Ethan, the kid’s face was a mix of confusion and something softer—something that made Carter’s chest tighten.
“You don’t understand,” Carter said. “Not yet. But you’ve been dancing around something since the day we met.”
Ethan swallowed. “Like what?”
“Ask me,” Carter said. “Ask the thing you’re scared to say.”
Ethan hesitated, eyes searching Carter’s face. Then, he asked. “Are you gay?”
Carter nodded once. “Yeah. But I’m not out.”
Ethan’s breath hitched again. He looked down at his hands, then back up. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you… have any feelings for me?”
Carter’s pulse kicked hard, the way it used to when a drill instructor barked his name out of nowhere—sharp, disorienting, like his body moved a half-second faster than his thoughts. He could’ve lied. Should’ve lied. But Ethan deserved the truth.
“Yes,” Carter said. “I do. But we have to be careful. I don’t have a plan. I just… care about you. And I want you to be mine.”
Ethan’s eyes softened in a way that made Carter’s heart thump painfully.
“I want you all to myself.”
Before he could talk himself out of it, Carter leaned forward, closing the space between them. Ethan didn’t pull back. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t look confused. He just waited.
So Carter kissed him—slow, careful, like he was afraid Ethan might break if he pushed too hard. And for the first time in a long time, something in Carter felt right.