Chapter Thirty-One
The ranch hands showed up just after Mr. Evans left—three men Carter trusted, all of them carrying toolboxes and plywood.
They didn’t ask questions, didn’t make comments.
They had just got to work, sweeping glass, boarding the windows, and cleaning the kitchen floor until the place looked less like a crime scene and more like a home again.
Carter appreciated that. Ethan needed quiet, not gossip.
Ethan hovered near him the whole time, still shaken, still pale.
Every loud noise made him flinch. Every time someone walked past the guest room, he tensed.
Carter hated it. Hated seeing him like that.
Hated that someone had done this to him.
When the men finished and drove off, the cabin’s silence was deafening. Too vulnerable.
Carter made the call instantly. “We’re not sleeping here tonight.”
Ethan blinked. “We’re not?”
“Nope.” Carter grabbed a duffle from the closet and started tossing clothes inside—shirts, jeans, and socks. Then he paused and grabbed a few of his things for Ethan. “You’re coming with me.”
Ethan didn’t argue. He just nodded.
Carter locked the cabin up tight, double-checked the windows, then guided Ethan to the truck with a hand on his back. The kid leaned into the touch as if he needed it.
They drove an hour out—far enough that the tension in Carter’s shoulders eased a little. He went for a tiny motel on the side of the road, the type with a neon sign and a peaceful parking area. Nothing fancy, but safe enough.
Inside the lobby, Carter kept his voice low. “Two beds, please.”
The clerk didn’t look twice. Just handed over the key cards.
Carter appreciated that too.
When they stepped into the room, Ethan dropped a bag by the door and looked around. Two beds, fresh sheets, a little table, and a TV screwed to the wall. Nothing special.
But the moment the door clicked shut behind them, something shifted. Ethan stood there, arms wrapped around himself, looking diminished and tired, and breakable. Carter’s protective instinct flares up again—hot, impossible to ignore.
Carter set his bag down and stepped closer. “You okay?”
Ethan nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Thinking.”
Carter sat on the edge of his bed. “About who did it.”
Ethan’s eyes widened. “You think it was them?”
Carter exhaled slowly. “I don’t know. Could’ve been those guys after you. Could’ve been someone else. Could’ve been your mother hiring someone, but I don’t have proof.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “She wanted control.”
Ethan stiffened. “She wouldn’t—”
“She might,” Carter said. “But I’m not accusing anyone until I know for sure.”
“You think she hates me that much?”
He rubbed a hand over his face and yes he thought she wanted to control Ethan at any cost. “I’m not sitting on this. I’m gonna find out who did it.”
Ethan swallowed. “Carter… you don’t have to—”
“Yes,” Carter said, voice firm. “I do.”
Silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Carter forced himself to lighten the mood, just a little. “Besides, you think I’m gonna let someone trash my kitchen and ruin your clothes? Hell no. That’s personal.”
A faint, genuine laugh escaped Ethan. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
Carter leaned back on his hands, watching him. “We’ll get you new clothes tomorrow. Good ones. Ones you pick.”
Ethan nodded, eyes softening. “Okay.”
Carter studied him for a moment—the way he stood there in the dim motel light, hair messy, shoulders slumped, trying so damn hard to be brave. He wanted to pull him close. Wanted to promise nothing bad would ever touch him again.
Instead, Carter kept his voice steady. “No one’s getting near you.”
Ethan’s breath eased out slowly. “I know.”
Carter patted the bed beside him. “Come sit. We’ll watch something dumb on TV. Keep your mind off things.”
Ethan crossed the room and sat down, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Carter didn’t move away. He flipped through channels until he found something harmless—some old sitcom rerun with canned laughter and bright colors. He wasn’t watching it. He was watching Ethan.
The kid sat beside him on the bed, knees pulled up, hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The break-in seemed to have shaken him, making him look devalued in a way Carter despised.
After a long stretch of silence, Ethan spoke. “I was really scared,” he said. “When you went inside the cabin… I thought maybe they were still there. Or that you’d get hurt. Or that—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
Carter’s chest tightened. He shifted closer, resting a steady hand on Ethan’s back. “Hey. I’m right here. Nothing happened to me.”
Ethan nodded, but his eyes were shiny. “I know. But it felt like everything was falling apart again. Like… like I can’t outrun any of it.”
Carter exhaled slowly. “You don’t have to outrun anything. That’s not your job.”
Ethan looked up at him, confused. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Let me handle the danger,” Carter said, voice low but sure. “Let me keep you safe. That’s my job.”
Ethan swallowed hard. “But what if they come back? What if they try something worse?”
Carter didn’t sugarcoat it. “Then they’ll deal with me.”
Ethan blinked, startled by the certainty in his tone.
Carter softened it a little. “I’m not letting anything happen to you. Not now. Not ever.”
Ethan’s breath hitched, and he leaned into Carter’s side—slowly at first, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. Carter wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in gently. Ethan melted into the touch, head resting against Carter’s chest.
Carter could feel the tremors still running through him.
He rubbed slow circles on Ethan’s shoulder. “You’re safe tonight. We’re far from the cabin. No one knows we’re here. And I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“I don’t want to be alone.”
“You’re not,” Carter murmured. “You won’t be.”
They stayed like that for a while, the TV flickering in the background. Carter kept talking—soft, steady, grounding words. Nothing heavy. Just enough to keep Ethan anchored.
“Tomorrow we’ll get you new clothes,” he said. “We’ll get breakfast somewhere good. Maybe stop by the coast again. We’ll make a day of it.”
Ethan didn’t answer.
Carter glanced down. The kid had fallen asleep against him—completely out, breathing slow and even, his cheek pressed to Carter’s chest like he’d found a place he could rest.
He shifted just enough to get comfortable without waking him, then pulled the blanket over both of them. Ethan curled closer instinctively, fingers gripping the fabric of Carter’s shirt. Carter stared at the ceiling, wide awake, mind racing.
Whoever broke into that cabin had crossed a line. And Carter wasn’t going to let it go. He’d find out who did it. He’d make damn sure they never came near Ethan again. But for now? He held the kid a little tighter. Ethan needed sleep. Safety. Steadiness. And Carter could give him that.
He stayed awake long after Ethan drifted deeper, listening to the quiet rise and fall of his breathing, keeping watch as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Because for Carter, it was.