Chapter Four
Spencer
Spencer carried Jamie to the bed, careful not to jostle him too much.
The poor guy was a wreck—his shoulders shaking every few breaths, eyes red and glassy from crying.
There was only one bed in the cabin, but that didn’t matter.
Spencer wasn’t about to make him sleep on the couch after the night he’d had.
The poor thing could have frozen to death.
He pulled the blanket up over Jamie, tucking it around him like he was trying to patch the pieces back together.
Jamie looked up. “Will you stay with me?”
Spencer hesitated. “You want me to?”
“I just… I need to feel close to someone,” Jamie said, eyes glimmering in the low light. “I don’t think I can be alone tonight.”
That hit Spencer right in the chest. He nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”
He stripped down to his T-shirt and boxers, then slid under the covers beside him.
The sheets were cool at first, but Jamie was warm, trembling, but warm.
Without thinking too hard about it, Spencer wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.
Jamie melted against him, like maybe, for a second, he believed he was safe.
“I’m a good listener if you want to talk.”
“I should’ve seen it coming,” Jamie murmured. “There were signs, you know? Daddy Tom stopped touching me. Stopped looking at me like I mattered. I just kept pretending everything was fine because… I wanted him to love me.” His voice cracked. “And now I’ve got nothing.”
Spencer swallowed hard, brushing a thumb over the back of Jamie’s hand. “You’ve got you,” he whispered. “That’s not nothing.”
He wondered if this Tom guy had done something to hurt Jamie. His story about the thugs jumping him didn’t ring true.
But inside, he was thinking about how wrong it was that anyone could make Jamie feel disposable.
Jamie was the kind of guy Spencer wanted to take home to Montana—the kind who’d look good in flannel, who’d sit on the porch and laugh at his terrible coffee.
But not like this. Not when Jamie’s heart was cracked open and bleeding.
Spencer held him tighter, breathing in the faint scent of snow and heartbreak in his hair. He’d take Jamie to the mixer, let him meet people, flirt, and smile again. He’d let him choose what or who he wanted.
Because Spencer wanted him too. Just… not like this. Not out of need. Out of want.
“Tell me more about him. What does he look like?”
“Daddy Tom is a big man with bright red hair and a matching beard that can be rough against my face when he kisses me. He has hazel eyes that used to look at me like he loved me, and I mattered.” Jamie turned away, and Spencer heard muffled sobs as more tears were shed.
He gently turned Jamie to face him, his gaze drawn to the depths of Jamie’s deep blue eyes.
“When I look at you, I see all of you inside and out. And when I look into your beautiful piercing blue eyes, I can feel what you feel. They tell me everything about you.” He kissed the top of his head, his lips brushing his hair.
“Right now, I feel lost. What am I going to do?”
“Don’t worry, I’m going to help you. Tomorrow, we’ll get you some clothes and boots. Where are all your belongings?”
“I was living with Daddy Tom in Brentwood. I had a key, but—”
“I promise I’ll get everything that is yours.” Spencer, always a man of his word, took his promises seriously.
“Are you planning to go to the party too?” Jamie asked.
“That’s why I’m here—to find a boy.”
“Why did you come all the way from Montana to find a California boy?” Jamie asked.
“My friend invited me because he knows I’m looking for a little, and the pickings in Montana are slim.”
“So, you plan to meet someone, and then what?” Jamie asked.
“We’ll see. I can drive you to the party.”
“Oh.” He paused. “Thanks.”
Spencer didn’t mean to sound so blunt. He was just answering the question casually and honestly.
But the moment Jamie said, “Oh,” and looked away, Spencer felt the shift.
That tiny flicker in Jamie’s eyes, the way his shoulders dropped just a little.
Disappointment. Hurt. Like Spencer had just confirmed something Jamie was hoping wasn’t true.
Spencer replayed his own words in his head. Looking for a little… pickings in Montana are slim. Damn. That sounded transactional. Cold. Like he was here to shop for someone, and Jamie was just a pit stop.
They’d only just met, but Jamie had this quiet vulnerability about him, like he’d been holding himself together with duct tape and hope. Spencer hadn’t meant to tug at that. He glanced over, watching Jamie try to mask whatever he was feeling with a polite smile.
Spencer felt a pang in his chest. Damn it. He thinks I’m just another guy passing through. Like I’m already halfway out the door.
He wanted to say something to soften the blow. To explain that yeah, he’d come looking, but not like that. Not like Jamie was just a name on a list. But the moment had already passed, and Jamie was staring out the window like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Spencer messed that up. Slow down. Be better.
“I want to get to know more about you. Tell me something—anything.”
“I need my binky.”
“Pacifier?”
“Yes. I can’t sleep without it.”
“Did you leave it in Tom’s car?” Spencer knew Jamie hadn’t mentioned Tom dumped him here, but his story about being jumped made no sense. He didn’t have a single bruise on him. As far as he knew, there were no buses from Brentwood to Big Bear.
Jamie nodded. “In my backpack.”
“What kind of vehicle does Tom drive?”
“A brand-new black Jeep Wrangler Rubicon.” Jamie closed his eyes for a minute.
Spencer thought about the Back Door parking lot when he clicked his door opener, he saw a black Jeep. The guy with the red hair. Just like Jamie had described him and his vehicle. He had felt something was dark about the man, and even Alfie didn’t like him. What had he done to Jamie?
“I can run to the twenty-four general store and pick up a binky for you. Do you want to come with me or wait here?”
“I’ll wait here. I’m nice and comfy.”
Spencer got up and put on his jeans and sweater, then went to the store. What he didn’t expect was to see the red-haired man, Tom, at the counter buying whiskey and beer.
Spencer hadn’t expected to feel this kind of heat in his chest—anger, protectiveness, something sharp and primal.
He’d left the cabin with a simple mission: grab a few essentials for Jamie.
Socks, a toothbrush, binky, and maybe a sweater.
Something to make the boy feel human again.
But standing in line at the store, he knew it was him.
Red hair. Smug expression. Same guy who’d been creeping on Alfie at the bar this evening. Jamie had described him almost exactly. Spencer’s stomach dropped.
He turned toward the wide front window, scanning the parking lot. There it was. A black Jeep. Sleek, expensive-looking. Spencer’s pulse kicked up. No way. Could it really be the same guy? The one who left Jamie stranded in a snowstorm with nothing but a hoodie and a broken heart?
Spencer’s jaw clenched. He considered walking up to him, asking his name, seeing if he flinched. But what if he was the guy? What if he smirked or shrugged it off? Spencer didn’t trust himself not to throw a punch.
He paid for the items in a rush, barely registering the cashier’s greeting, and bolted to his truck.
He tailed the Jeep through the winding roads, keeping a safe distance but never letting it out of sight.
When it pulled up to a cabin and the redhead got out, suitcase in hand, Spencer parked a few spots down and waited.
Once the man disappeared inside, Spencer approached the Jeep, heart pounding. He peered through the window. There it was. A backpack and a suitcase.
Spencer’s fists curled at his sides. He wanted to bust the window, grab the bags, storm into the cabin, and demand answers. How could someone do that to Jamie? Leave him out there like trash. Like he didn’t matter.
But Spencer didn’t move. He just stared at the bags, breathing hard, trying to keep the fury from boiling over. He didn’t know the full story. Not yet. But he knew enough to hate what he was seeing.
He turned and walked back to his truck, slamming the door harder than he meant to. The drive back to his cabin was quiet, but his mind wasn’t. He kept picturing Jamie curled up in the bed, trying to act like he wasn’t falling apart. Spencer had seen the cracks. Had held him while he cried.
And now, knowing that the man who caused it all was just a few cabins away?
Spencer gripped the wheel tighter. Jamie’s safe now, he reminded himself. He’s with me. That bastard doesn’t get to hurt him again.
But still, the image of that backpack and suitcase burned in his mind. And Spencer knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.