Chapter Seven
“We’re going to sit by the lake and finish talking,” Carter said.
He didn’t wait for a response—just headed toward the entryway, trusting Ethan would follow. He heard the kid’s footsteps behind him, a little hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was walking toward a conversation or a firing squad.
They both pulled on their socks and boots. Carter noticed Ethan’s fingers fumbling with the laces, as if his mind was somewhere else entirely. Probably was. The boy had been hit with a lot today.
Outside, the air felt cooler, calmer. The woods opened up around them, and the lake shimmered through the trees. Carter always liked this walk. It cleared his head and he hoped it might do the same for Ethan.
They reached the picnic table overlooking the water and sat opposite each other. Ethan kept a little distance, but not much. Enough to show he was wary. Not enough to show he wanted to run.
“Where are you from?” Ethan asked.
“Texas,” Carter said. “Grew up on a ranch with two older brothers.”
He didn’t add the rest—the noise, the pressure, the expectations he never quite fit into. Ethan didn’t need that yet.
“Why are you here then?”
Ethan’s question landed harder than Carter expected.
Carter kept his eyes on the lake, watching the sunlight ripple across the surface. The kid didn’t know what he was poking at. Hell, most days Carter didn’t want to poke at it either.
He took a slow breath, choosing his words carefully. “I left Texas for… reasons that aren’t up for discussion.”
He could feel Ethan watching him, waiting for more. The kid always seemed to want more—more answers, more explanations, more proof someone wasn’t lying to him. Carter didn’t blame him for that, but he wasn’t opening that door today.
“Maybe,” Carter added, “I’ll talk about it when I know you can keep things to yourself.”
“Yeah. No one trusts me.”
Carter looked at him. The kid’s shoulders were tight, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the lake like he was trying not to care. But Carter saw right through it.
“When you show you’re trustworthy,” Carter said, “I’ll share what I choose to share.”
Ethan didn’t answer, but the way he shifted—just a little—told Carter the words landed somewhere deeper than the kid wanted to admit.
The breeze off the lake rustled the leaves overhead. And for a moment, the silence between them wasn’t tense—it was honest.
Carter didn’t give Ethan the truth he wanted. But he gave him the truth he could. And that was enough for now.
“Tell me about the consequences,” Ethan said.
Carter didn’t sugarcoat it. “You break any rule once, you work a double shift. Second time, double shift plus the shit jobs no one wants. Third time, I’ll whip your ass.”
Ethan’s head snapped toward him. “I can’t believe my father is allowing you to do this to me.”
Carter snorted. “Stop acting like a little asshole then.”
Ethan’s mouth opened, then shut again. Good. Maybe the kid was thinking before he spoke.
“What are my hours?” Ethan asked.
“Breakfast at my cabin is at six,” Carter said. “Then you feed the horses and clean the stables. I want you done by ten. You’re responsible for riding lessons and taking groups on trails.”
“That’s what I used to do forever,” Ethan muttered.
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. The kid hated being told what to do, but he needed structure more than he realized.
“Lunch is at noon,” Carter continued. “I’ll pick you up since you don’t have transportation.”
“I have dirt bikes, motorcycles, and a truck, but that bastard locked them up. He expects me to walk every damn place.”
“You’ll be with me,” Carter said. “Especially since you’re not allowed off the ranch without my permission. Got it?”
“I don’t like it. I’m twenty-one.”
“Too bad,” Carter said. “Work’s seven to five. Dinner’s at six. You’ll shower, then we’ll eat here.”
Ethan let out a long, frustrated breath. Carter ignored it.
“What about the pay?” Ethan asked.
“You’ll earn three hundred a week. Two-thirds go to repayment. The rest is yours.”
Ethan scoffed. “I went to college to get a hundred a week?”
“It’s called the consequences of poor choices.”
Carter didn’t say it to be cruel. He said it because the kid needed someone who wouldn’t flinch when he pushed back. Someone who wouldn’t fold. Someone who’d stay steady even when Ethan wasn’t.
And Carter intended to be exactly that. “Are we done now?” Ethan asked, sounding impatient, as if he were already halfway out of here in his mind.
Carter shook his head. “No. Since I’ve got the day off, I’m gonna write a list for you to shop for our groceries.
” Ethan’s expression shifted—hope, suspicion, annoyance, all tangled together.
“Your father gave me enough money to cover your food and whatever else we need. Question is… can you be trusted with that job?”
Ethan straightened a little, trying to look confident. “Yes, Boss Carter. But—”
“No buts,” Carter cut him off. “Drive my truck. Go now. I’ll message you the list.”
He handed over the keys and a folded stack of cash. Ethan stared at the money as if it might bite him.
“Truck’s over there,” Carter added, pointing to the old Ford parked under the shade of a gigantic oak. The morning sun glinted off the windshield, and dust from the ranch road shimmered in the air.
“Okay,” Ethan said, though he sounded more unsure than he wanted to admit.
Ethan walked away—long strides, shoulders tense, as if he were trying to outrun something. The kid climbed into the truck, slammed the door harder than necessary, and peeled out, kicking up a cloud of dust that rolled across the yard.
Carter sighed. He’d expected that. Hell, he’d been that age once too—full of heat, pride, and the need to prove something to someone who wasn’t even watching.
He sent the grocery list to Ethan’s phone and hoped the kid wouldn’t get distracted, lost, or pissed off enough to ditch the whole errand. With Ethan, any of those were possible.
Inside the cabin, the quiet settled around him again. He stood in the kitchen for a moment, staring at the empty counter, imagining Ethan wandering through a grocery store with no idea what he was doing. The thought made his stomach tighten—not anger, just worry he didn’t want to name.
Carter sank onto the couch, letting the cushions dip under his weight. The quiet of the cabin settled around him—soft, steady, the kind of quiet he usually liked. But today it felt thin, stretched, like something was waiting to snap.
He’d barely leaned back when his phone buzzed.
Mr. Evans. Of course.
Carter answered. “Yeah?”
“Did you talk to Ethan?” Mr. Evans asked, voice clipped and already irritated.
“Yes.”
“Then why did I just see him driving your truck?”
Carter rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I gave him a job.”
A beat. “What job?”
“Grocery shopping.”
Silence. Not the annoyed kind—something heavier.
Then Mr. Evans said, “You should’ve told me before you sent him out.”
Carter straightened. “Why?”
Another pause. Longer this time. Carter could almost hear the man debating whether to say whatever came next.
Finally: “Because Ethan’s been followed before.”
Carter’s stomach dropped. “Followed by who?”
“People he owes money to,” Mr. Evans said. “Or thinks he owes. I don’t know anymore. But last month, someone showed up at his dorm asking for him. Campus security got involved.”
Carter sat forward, boots planted on the floor. The room suddenly felt too small. “You didn’t put that in the file.”
“I didn’t want to scare you off,” Mr. Evans said. “But if he’s off the ranch alone, you need to know.”
“I gave him permission, and I downloaded a location tracker app on his phone.”
Carter’s jaw tightened. He looked toward the window, toward the dust trail Ethan had kicked up on his way out. The kid wasn’t just reckless—he might be in danger. And Carter had just handed him the keys and cash as if it were nothing.
Mr. Evans added, “And don’t let him smoke in your truck.” Then he hung up.
Carter lowered the phone slowly, staring at the blank screen.
Damn. No wonder the kid was all messed up. No wonder he flinched at rules, at authority, at anything that felt like someone closing in.
And now Ethan was out there alone with Carter’s truck, a pocket full of cash, and maybe someone was looking for him. Damn it. Not with this new piece of the puzzle rattling around in his chest like a warning bell.