Chapter Four
Ethan pretended to focus on the last of his toast while his mind kept drifting to the man sitting opposite him. Boss Carter. Broad shoulders, a steady voice, hazel eyes that didn’t look through him the way most adults did. Ethan hated how much he noticed. Hated how much he wanted to be noticed.
He wished—just for a second—that he had someone like Carter in his life. Someone solid. Someone who didn’t flinch when he pushed back. Someone who might actually stay. But he’d never let Carter know that. Not in a million years.
Mrs. Wilcox spotted them before Ethan even realized she was in the diner. He caught a flash of her floral blouse first—loud pink roses on stiff fabric—and his stomach dropped. She moved toward their booth with that tight-lipped determination church ladies got when they smelled sin.
Ethan’s pulse spiked. Not her. Not here. Not today.
She stopped right at their table and stared straight at him, eyes sharp behind her glasses. Her gray hair was pinned so tight it looked like it hurt, and her perfume hit him like a wall—powdery, sweet, suffocating.
“Well,” she said, voice carrying across half the diner, “if it isn’t the Evans boy.”
His throat clamped shut, fingers turning icy against the table.
“I heard all about you,” she continued, leaning in as if she had every right. “Partying all night. Drinking. Dancing with the devil instead of going to class. You disgraced your family, young man. Absolutely disgraced them.”
Heat crawled up Ethan’s neck. His face burned. He stared at his plate, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at Carter. Couldn’t look anywhere.
She wasn’t done.
“Your poor parents,” she said, voice rising. “Imagine raising a boy who throws away his future to roll around in sin.”
Ethan’s body had locked up. Every word she said was a nail pinning him to the seat. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to defend himself. Didn’t know how to breathe.
Before he could even try, Carter stood up. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… steady. Solid. Unmovable. “Ma’am,” Carter said, voice low, “you weren’t invited to this booth.”
Mrs. Wilcox blinked, thrown off. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not your place to speak to him like that,” Carter said. “Not here. Not anywhere.”
She opened her mouth, but Carter didn’t give her the chance.
“And you’re not gonna spread gossip about him,” he added, tone sharpening. “Not in this diner. Not on the ranch. Not anywhere near him.”
Mrs. Wilcox’s face went red. “I am a woman of the church—”
“And I’m a man who doesn’t tolerate bullying,” Carter cut in. “If you go near him again, or run your mouth about him, you’re gonna have a problem with me.”
The diner went silent. Forks paused. People stared.
Mrs. Wilcox sputtered, clutched her purse like a shield, and stormed off.
Ethan stared at the table, heart pounding so hard he felt it in his teeth. His hands shook under the table. Embarrassed by how rattled he was. She could still get to him.
Carter sat back down like he wasn’t sure if Ethan was going to bolt.
Ethan swallowed, throat tight. “Thanks,” he muttered, barely audible.
Carter looked at him, brows softening. “You okay?”
“No,” Ethan admitted, voice cracking before he could stop it. “I… I couldn’t deal with her. Not today.” He rubbed his palms on his jeans, trying to steady himself. “She always—she always talks to me like that. Like I’m already damned.”
Carter didn’t say anything right away. He just gave a slow, understanding look, like he wasn’t judging Ethan for falling apart over a church lady with too much perfume and too much righteousness.
For the first time in a long time, Ethan didn’t feel completely alone.
Carter wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back. “Your father told me you failed out of college. What happened?”
Ethan felt his stomach twist. He stabbed at a crumb on his plate. “Why do you care?”
“I’m trying to understand what happened,” Carter said. “That’s all.”
Ethan let out a breath, long and shaky. He didn’t want to talk about this. Didn’t want to look weak. But something about Carter’s voice—steady, patient—made the truth slip out before he could stop it.
“I didn’t… attend,” he muttered.
Carter raised an eyebrow. “At all?”
“Barely.” Ethan shrugged, trying to look casual. “I skipped classes. Went to nightclubs. Danced. Partied all night. Slept all day. Did it again the next night. Mrs. Wilcox wasn’t far off about what I had done in school.”
He waited for judgment. For the lecture. For the disappointment. Carter didn’t give him any of that.
“And then it all ended,” Ethan finished.
“As for Mrs. Wilcox,” Carter said, leaning back in the booth with that easy confidence Ethan wished he had, “she’s an old biddy. Pay no mind to her.”
A laugh slipped out of Ethan before he could stop it.
Then another. And suddenly he couldn’t hold it in.
It wasn’t loud or wild, just this warm, shaky sound he barely recognized as his own.
Relief loosened something tight in his chest, something he hadn’t realized he’d been clenching since the moment she’d appeared.
Carter chuckled too, low and rough, and the sound made Ethan’s skin warm in a way he didn’t want to think too hard about.
Their laughter blended together, soft at first, then fuller, echoing off the chrome and vinyl of the booth.
For a moment, the entire world felt lighter—like the weight Mrs. Wilcox had dumped on him had slid off his shoulders.
Ethan wiped at his eyes, still smiling. “God… I needed that,” he muttered.
And he did.
More than he’d ever admitted out loud.
Carter just gave him a look—steady, warm, like he understood exactly why Ethan was laughing and exactly why he needed to.
And for the first time all morning, Ethan felt like he could breathe again.
When they finished their meal, they made their way to the cash register, but Andrew stopped them before they reached it.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with Mrs. Wilcox, Ethan. She used to talk to me like that too.”
“She… uh… she really needs to mind her own business,” he said, voice quieter than he meant. He wouldn’t have said it if Carter weren’t standing right there. He knew that.
Ethan’s throat tightened again—just a flicker of that old fear—but Carter’s solid presence kept him anchored. Made it easier to breathe. Easier to speak.
“Yeah,” Andrew said. “She’s always been like that.”
Relief washed through him in a warm wave, loosening something that had been knotted up for years.
It felt good, strange, but good, to hear someone who had a similar problem with Mrs. Wilcox too.
For the first time in a long time, Ethan didn’t brace for impact after speaking to Mrs. Wilcox. And he knew exactly why.
“Anyway, breakfast is on us. Don’t be strangers?”
“I appreciate it,” Carter said, standing beside Ethan.
“Thanks.”
They left the diner and headed to the parking area. Ethan hopped on the back of the motorcycle, and they both put on their helmets. He tried not to think about how close he had to sit, or how good Carter smelled, or how safe he felt with his hands resting lightly on the man’s sides.
Carter started the engine, and the vibration rolled through Ethan’s chest. He swallowed hard and looked anywhere but at the back of Carter’s neck, even though that was exactly where his eyes wanted to land.
He didn’t know what he felt. Not in a way he could name without sounding stupid. Carter had stood up for him. Protected him. Shut down Mrs. Wilcox as if it were nothing. No one had ever done that for him before.
Dust kicked up under the motorcycle tires as they pulled into Dawson’s farm. Carter killed the engine—hopped off and strode toward the feed store like a man on a mission. Ethan followed, hands shoved in his pockets, taking in the familiar smell of hay and grain.
Zane was behind the counter, leaning on it like he owned the place. His face lit up when he spotted Ethan.
“Well, look what the wind blew in,” Zane said. “You working out at the ranch now?”
Ethan shrugged, casual. “Yeah. Boss Carter hired me on.”
Carter shot him a look but didn’t comment. He was already rattling off the hay order like he’d memorized every bale in the county.
Zane nodded toward Ethan as he wrote down Carter’s order. “So what’re you doing out there? Fencing?”
“Nah,” Ethan said. “Mostly working with the horses and guiding riders on horse trails. Carter’s got me working with them every day.”
Zane grinned. “Figures. You always had a way with ’em.”
Ethan felt a small, quiet pride settle in his chest. “Guess he noticed.”
Carter finished his order and jerked his chin toward the door. “Let’s go, Ethan.”
Ethan gave Zane a quick wave. “See you around.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” Zane called after him.
Ethan followed Carter back out into the sun, feeling like the job fit him a little better every day. Then they were back on the motorcycle heading back to the ranch.
The woods closed in around them, sunlight flickering through the branches. Wind whipped past Ethan’s face, cool and sharp, and he leaned in closer without meaning to. His forehead brushed Carter’s shoulder for a second. He pretended it was the wind pushing him forward, not him wanting to be closer.
Carter didn’t react. Didn’t stiffen. Didn’t pull away. He just kept riding, calm and solid, like having Ethan pressed against him didn’t bother him at all. That made something twist in Ethan’s chest. Made everything worse. Or better. He couldn’t tell.
The lake appeared in flashes of silver between the trees as Carter wove deeper into the woods.
Ethan focused on the scenery, on the sunlight, on anything except the warm, stupid flutter in his chest every time Carter did something decent.
But it kept creeping back in, no matter how hard he tried to shove it down.
He didn’t want to want anything from Carter. Didn’t want to hope. Didn’t want to feel… whatever this was. But he couldn’t stop it.
By the time Carter turned onto a narrow dirt road and pulled up beside a small cabin tucked deep in the trees, Ethan’s head was a mess—full of questions he didn’t want answers to and feelings he didn’t trust himself with.
Carter cut the engine, and the sudden quiet felt too loud. Ethan climbed off slowly, his hands lingering on Carter’s jacket a second longer than they should have. He didn’t mean to. His fingers just… stayed.
Carter glanced back at him, eyes steady, like he could see right through every wall Ethan kept trying to rebuild.
Ethan looked away fast, heat crawling up his neck. He didn’t know what he felt about Carter. Not yet. Not safely. But whatever it was… it was getting harder to ignore.
“Why are we here?” Ethan asked.
“Because if you need cover for any reason, come here.” Carter pulled a key from his pocket and held it out. “No questions asked.”
Ethan stared at the key as if it were something fragile. Something he didn’t deserve.
He took it anyway, stuffing it into his jeans pocket before his hands could shake. He wanted to say thanks. Wanted to say something that didn’t sound stupid or small. But the words stuck in his throat.
So, he just nodded, hoping Carter understood what he couldn’t say out loud. And Carter did. Of course he did.