Chapter Twelve
Carter didn’t like the way the barn sat in the dark. Too many gaps in the boards. Too many shadows. Too far from the house. The whole drive back to his cabin, something tugged at him, a quiet pull low in his chest that wouldn’t let up.
By the time he stepped inside his place and stripped down to his underwear, the silence felt wrong. The cabin usually gave him peace. Tonight it felt empty. Hollow. Like he’d left something important behind.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone. One hour. That was all it had been since he dropped Ethan off. One damn hour and the kid was already in his head.
He grabbed the phone anyway.
Carter: Everything okay over there?
Ethan: Bored.
Carter: Are you going to be okay tonight?
Ethan: I guess so. No TV here. Nothing but me and my phone.
Carter: Get some sleep. Call me if you need me.
The messaging ended, but the unease didn’t. Carter stood, grabbed his jeans, and pulled them on without bothering with a shirt. The night air hit his skin the second he stepped outside, cool and sharp. Gravel crunched under his boots as he crossed the yard to ride his motorcycle.
The barn loomed ahead, a dark shape against the moonlit sky. A faint glow flickered behind it. Smoke drifted up in a thin line.
Ethan.
Carter slowed as he rounded the corner. Ethan leaned against the back wall, a cigarette between his fingers, shoulders hunched as if he were trying to fold himself into the wood.
“Thought you were turning in,” Carter said.
Ethan jumped a little, then tried to play it off. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Carter stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. “Smoking again?”
“Better than in there,” Ethan muttered.
Carter glanced toward the barn. “I thought you agreed to follow my rules, and no smoking was one of them.”
“Not going to happen in one day, Boss Carter.”
“Then always smoke outside away from animals and riders. And never… never smoke in that barn or inside anywhere.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay then. One month, no cigarettes anywhere. Agree?”
“Agree.” He paused. “Feels like I’m sleeping in a storage closet someone forgot about.”
“Not ideal but what’s going on is you’re suffering the consequences of your actions or lack thereof.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Ethan took a drag and exhaled slowly. “I don’t… feel like myself here.”
Carter waited
Ethan’s voice dropped. “Feels like I got dropped into someone else’s life. Like the version of me that existed yesterday didn’t make the trip.”
Carter leaned a shoulder against the wall beside him. “You’re a colt dropped in the wrong pasture. Anyone would feel off.”
“Yeah, well… I don’t know who I’m supposed to be now.”
Carter looked at him, then really looked. The kid’s eyes were tired, rimmed red from tears or the day or both. Smoke curled around his face, softening the edges.
“You don’t have to figure it out tonight,” Carter said. “Right now, you just need sleep.”
Ethan flicked the ashes to the ground. “I will. Just needed air.”
Carter nodded once. “Promise me you’ll get some rest.”
Ethan hesitated, then met his eyes. “Yeah. I promise.”
Carter wanted to believe him more than he didn’t.
He pushed off the wall. “If anything feels off, call me. Doesn’t matter the time.”
Ethan’s voice deepened. “Okay.”
Carter started back toward the front of the barn but paused long enough to glance over his shoulder. Ethan stood in the moonlight, small and stubborn and trying hard not to look shaken. That tug in Carter’s chest tightened.
The kid wasn’t safe out there. Not from the world. Not from whatever trouble followed him. Maybe not even from himself.
Carter headed back toward the cabin, jaw set. Tomorrow, he’d figure out a way to get Ethan closer. Tonight, he’d settle for the promise. And hoped the kid kept it.
Carter lay on his back, staring at the ceiling fan as it clicked through another slow rotation. Sleep didn’t come. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Ethan sitting behind the barn with that cigarette, shoulders tight, trying to pretend he wasn’t scared or lost.
The kid had been through hell today. Dropped off like a problem. Left in a drafty barn with nothing but a cot and a thin wall between him and the night. Carter exhaled hard and rolled onto his side. The cabin felt too quiet. Too empty. Ethan’s absence sat in the room like a weight.
Then his phone buzzed.
He grabbed it fast.
Ethan: Someone’s pounding on the barn door.
Carter: Don’t open it. Be right there.
Carter was out of bed before the message finished loading. Boots on. Shirt forgotten. Keys in hand. He didn’t bother with a jacket. He was already moving.
The motorcycle roared to life, headlights cutting through the dark as he tore across the yard. Gravel spat out behind him. The barn came into view—one dim bulb glowing inside, shadows shifting against the boards.
Two men stood at the barn door, fists raised like they were ready to pound again.
One wore a leather vest that reeked of stale beer even from a distance, patches peeling at the edges.
The other had a chain wrapped around his knuckles, links clinking as he shifted his weight.
Their boots didn’t match anything worn on a ranch—slick city soles, dusted with gravel from the road, not dirt from the fields.
Carter didn’t slow down. He pulled up hard, engine growling, dust swirling around him. “Back off,” he said, voice steady with a weight that made both men freeze like they’d just stepped in front of a charging bull.
In unison, they turned to face Carter. Up close, they looked even more out of place—eyes too wild, shoulders too loose, the kind of swagger that came from picking fights they thought they could win.
One had a busted lip with dried blood crusted at the corner.
The other’s jacket hung open, showing a knife sheath strapped to his belt.
Not ranch hands.
Not locals.
Trouble that didn’t belong anywhere near Ethan.
Carter stepped off the motorcycle, shoulders squared. “You heard me. Leave.”
Something in his tone made them rethink whatever they had come for. They exchanged a look, muttered something under their breath, and backed away. Within seconds, they were gone by foot and swallowed by the dark road leading off the property.
Carter didn’t watch them leave. He was already heading for the barn.
“Open up. Carter here.”
Ethan unlocked the door and stood inside the doorway, barefoot, hair messed up, phone still in his hand. His eyes were wide, chest rising fast as if he’d been holding his breath.
“You okay?” Carter asked.
Ethan nodded, but the tremor in his hands said otherwise. “They just… showed up. I didn’t know what they wanted.”
Carter stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’re not staying out here tonight.”
Ethan blinked. “What?”
“Grab your clothes. Whatever you need.” Carter jerked his chin toward the cot. “You’re coming to my place.”
Ethan hesitated, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “For the night?”
“For as long as it takes,” Carter said. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.”
“But what about my father?”
“He’s not your problem. He’s mine, so don’t worry about him.”
The barn creaked around them, wind slipping through the cracks. Ethan swallowed hard and nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “Let me get my stuff.”
Carter waited by the door, jaw tight, eyes on the dark road where the men had disappeared. The protective pull in his chest tightened again, and much stronger this time, impossible to ignore.