Chapter Thirty-Eight
Aknot tightened in his stomach as a cold dread washed over him.
Oh, that sounds bad. That sounds really bad.
He forced his legs to move, each step feeling heavier than the last. The space between them thickened, like the air before a storm. Carter didn’t say another word as Ethan approached, but his eyes followed every movement—sharp, assessing, still burning with leftover fear and anger.
When Ethan reached the steps, Carter turned and walked inside without waiting. Ethan paused at the doorway, heart pounding so hard it almost hurt.
Okay. Deep breath. You can do this. Just… don’t make it worse.
The house greeted him with an unfamiliar feeling upon his entry. The place wasn’t heavy the way the truck but felt hollow, like the walls were holding their breath.
The door clicked shut behind him, and the sound was too loud in the peaceful house. Ethan stood just inside the entryway, hands shoved into his pockets, heart thudding as if he’d run the entire way home instead of sitting in a truck trying not to breathe too loud.
Carter walked a few steps in, then stopped. His back was to Ethan at first—broad shoulders rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. Ethan could tell he was trying to calm down. That almost made it worse.
When Carter turned around, his expression wasn’t explosive anger anymore. It was something tighter. Sharper. A mix of fear and disappointment that made Ethan’s stomach twist.
Carter’s voice was low, steady, but there was no softness in it.
“You’re going to receive your punishment in the bathroom.”
Ethan’s entire body went still.
Oh. He’s serious. He’s really serious.
Carter stepped closer, not looming, but close enough that Ethan felt the heat of him. “I want you to go in there and wait for me,” Carter said. “And while you’re waiting, think about why you’re being punished.”
Ethan nodded, but his feet didn’t move. His brain was trapped between he deserved this and he didn’t want to walk in there alone.
Carter’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Ethan.”
Ethan swallowed. “I—I know. I’m going.”
He took a step toward the hallway, then hesitated again, glancing back. “Carter… are you still mad?
Carter’s jaw flexed. “Yes.”
Carter’s honesty hit Ethan like a punch. He looked down at the floor, heat crawling up his neck.
“But,” Carter added, voice softer but still firm, “I’m not doing this because I’m angry. I’m doing it because I was concerned about your immature behavior. And because you ignored a direct warning.”
Ethan nodded again, slower this time. “Okay.”
Carter tipped his head toward the hallway. “Bathroom. Now.”
The word now wasn’t shouted this time, but it still made Ethan’s pulse jump. He turned and walked down the hall, each step feeling heavier than the last. The bathroom door felt like it was a mile away. When he reached it, he paused with his hand on the knob, heart pounding.
Think about why you’re being punished.
Yeah. He knew exactly why.
Ethan pushed the door open, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. The quiet there was even louder. And all he could do was wait.
He sagged back against the door, breath shaking loose. The brightness in the room didn’t feel suffocating—it felt exposing, like the light saw straight through the calm he was pretending to have. Even the low hum of the overhead bulb made his nerves jump, sharp and jittery under his skin.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a slow line from the sink to the shower and back again. His boots thudded against the tile.
Think about why you’re being punished.
Yeah. He didn’t need to think. He knew.
Ethan pressed his palms to the cool edge of the sink, staring at his reflection. His cheeks were still flushed from the ride, but now it was embarrassment more than adrenaline.
Why did I do that? Why can’t I just listen when he tells me something important? He warned me. He literally warned me.
He swallowed hard, throat tight. The guilt sat heavy in his chest, like a weight he couldn’t shake off. He kept replaying the moment Carter yelled his name on the trail—the fear in his voice, the anger that came right after.
Ethan paced the bathroom, rubbing his arms as if he were cold even though the room was warm.
He’s really mad. And he has every right to be.
He paused by the door, listening. Nothing. Just the faint creak of the house settling and the distant sound of waves outside. The waiting was the worst part. His stomach twisted tighter with every second.
Just get it over with. Please.
He didn’t know how long he stood there—maybe a minute, maybe five—before footsteps moved in the bathroom’s direction. Slow. Heavy. Controlled.
The doorknob turned.
The door opened.
Carter stepped inside with a wooden paddle in his hand, closing it behind him. He didn’t look explosive anymore. That almost made it worse. He looked calm, but Ethan could tell Carter was still mad, just in a more controlled, icy way.
“Where did that paddle come from?” Ethan asked.
“My suitcase.”
Ethan squinted his eyes as if he were confused and tried to understand why he’d pack a paddle.
Carter’s eyes swept over him. “Did you think about why you’re in here?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah. I—I know why.”
Carter stepped closer, not looming, but close enough that Ethan felt the heat of him. His posture was controlled, shoulders squared, and jaw set.
“You ignored a direct warning,” Carter said. “You put yourself in danger. And you scared me more than you realize.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am.”
Carter exhaled slowly, eyes softening just a fraction—but not enough to ease the tension. “We’re going to deal with it,” he said. “Right now.”
Ethan’s pulse jumped, loud in his ears.
Carter reached past him and locked the bathroom door with a faint click. The second Carter locked that bathroom door, Ethan got a bad feeling. His palms went sweaty, and he couldn’t seem to pull in a full breath. The warmth of the room intensified, making it feel tight and oppressive.
Carter didn’t raise his voice. Somehow, that made it worse. “Come here,” he said.
Ethan stepped forward, legs stiff, heart hammering. He hated disappointing Carter. Hated knowing he’d scared him. That guilt sat heavier than anything else.
Carter’s expression wasn’t furious anymore—it was controlled, serious, the kind of look that said, “this is happening, and you know why.”
“You ignored a direct warning,” Carter said. “You put yourself in danger. And you know I don’t let that slide.”
Ethan nodded, throat tight. “I know.”
“Look at me.”
He did. Carter’s eyes were steady, firm, but there was something else under the anger. It hit Ethan like a punch.
“I’m not doing this because I’m angry,” Carter said. “I’m doing it because you need to take your safety seriously. I need to know you’ll listen when it matters.”
Ethan swallowed hard. “I said I was sorry,” he said.
“I know you are,” Carter said. “But you’re still getting punished.”
When Carter guided him into position by bending him over the sink, Ethan’s face burned with shame, and his stomach twisted with dread.
“Ten swats.”
The first swat landed with a sharp crack that echoed off the tile, the sound too loud in the small bathroom.
Ethan’s hands tightened against the cool porcelain of the counter, the chill biting into his palms and clashing with the heat crawling up his neck.
He gasped—not from the pain, but from the way it cut straight through the guilt he’d been trying to outrun.
The faint scent of soap and steam lingered in the air, clean and ordinary, completely at odds with the shame burning under his skin.
The next one made his eyes squeeze shut. By the third, his throat was constricted, and he hated how quickly the emotion rose in him—not from the pain, but from everything behind it. The fear he’d caused. The disappointment. The way Carter’s voice had cracked on the trail.
He blinked hard, trying to keep it together, but his breath shook anyway.
Carter paused, hand resting lightly on his back—grounding, steady. “Ethan,” he said, “why are you being punished?”
Ethan’s voice came out small. “Because I didn’t listen.”
“And?”
“And… I could’ve gotten hurt.”
Carter nodded once. “Good.”
The punishment continued—steady, controlled, each impact sending a hollow thud through the cramped room.
The rhythm wasn’t harsh, but it was unyielding, a certainty that settled heavy in Ethan’s chest. What broke him wasn’t only the sting; it was the way Carter never wavered, never hesitated, the single message in every measured strike that he cared too much to let this slide.
The bright bathroom light hummed overhead, sharp against Ethan’s frayed nerves, making the moment feel even more exposed, more real.
His ass was sore, but what really hurt was letting Carter down way more than he thought possible.
The moment Carter stopped and set the paddle on the counter, the tension in Ethan’s body collapsed all at once.
His breath hitched in his throat, a sound in the silence, and he remained rooted to the spot, his legs still uncertain.
Ethan’s eyes stung in that awful way that meant tears were coming whether he wanted them or not.
He hated crying. Especially in front of Carter.
A wave of shame washed over him from feeling stupid for getting emotional, messing up in the first place, and making Carter worry. The guilt sat heavy in his chest, and the sting of the punishment only made it sharper.
Carter must’ve seen it on his face, because he gently guided Ethan upright. “Look at me.”
Ethan hesitated, then lifted his eyes. Carter wasn’t angry anymore. Not even a little.
“There you are,” Carter said. “I was waiting for you to come back to me.”
Ethan’s breath wobbled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Carter cupped the back of his neck, thumb brushing lightly against his skin. “I know you didn’t. But you did. And I needed you to understand how serious that was.”
“I do,” Ethan said. “I really do.”
Carter nodded, then pulled him in just enough that Ethan could lean if he wanted. And he did. He let himself fold into Carter’s chest, forehead pressing against his shoulder. The warmth, the steadiness, the familiar scent of him—it all hit at once, and Ethan’s breath shook again.
Carter wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Ethan let out a small, broken sound he didn’t mean to make. Carter didn’t comment on it. He just held him tighter, one hand rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades.
They stayed like that for a long moment—Ethan breathing in Carter’s shirt, Carter grounding him with steady touches.
Eventually, Carter spoke again, voice low. “You scared me today. More than I want to admit.”
Ethan’s ribs felt too small for the breath he needed. “I didn’t think. I just… I got excited.”
“I know,” Carter said. “But your safety comes first. Always.”
Ethan nodded against him. “I won’t do it again.”
Carter sighed—not quite a laugh, more like relief. “Good.” He pulled back just enough to look Ethan in the eyes. “You’re not in trouble anymore. We’re done.”
The tension, the fear, the guilt—it all eased, replaced by relief. Carter brushed a thumb under his eye, catching a tear Ethan hadn’t realized had fallen. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said gently. “Then we’ll go sit on the couch for a bit.”
Ethan nodded.