Chapter Six
Spencer
The morning air was crisp, the kind that bit at your cheeks but made the coffee taste better.
Spencer had bundled Jamie into the truck just after sunrise, figuring a hot breakfast might help shake off the heaviness from the night before.
Jamie had said little, but he’d accepted the stuffed puppy, the sweater, and the binky like they were lifelines. Spencer didn’t push. He just drove.
But as they rounded the bend near the lake, Spencer spotted it—Tom’s cabin. The black Jeep parked out front as if it hadn’t left since last night. He saw Jamie’s posture shift, saw the way his eyes locked onto the cabin and then darted away. Dead quiet. Not a word.
Spencer gripped the wheel a little tighter. He wanted Jamie to say something. Wanted him to name it, to let it out. But Jamie just stared out the window like he was watching ghosts walk through the snow.
The breakfast spot was a cozy little log cabin-style diner tucked between pine trees, with a carved wooden bear out front and a chalkboard sign that read “Flapjack Special—Add bacon for $2!” Inside, it smelled like syrup and coffee and cinnamon.
As soon as the server showed them to a booth, another server asked if they wanted coffee.
They both nodded, and she poured into their red Christmas mugs.
They slid into the booth by the window. Jamie looked pale, like he hadn’t slept, like seeing that Jeep had knocked the wind out of him.
Spencer didn’t mention it. Not yet. He sat across from Jamie, watching him stir his creamer into his mug like he was trying to disappear into the swirl.
The boy hadn’t said much since they had passed Tom’s cabin.
Spencer had seen the way Jamie’s eyes locked onto the black Jeep, then dropped to his lap like he’d been sucker-punched.
He hadn’t said a word, and Spencer hadn’t pushed.
But it was sitting between them like a third person at the table.
Instead, he stirred his coffee and asked, “Let’s exchange phone numbers, in case you get lost.”
They exchanged phones, added their phone numbers, and then each programmed the other’s number.
“Would you ever move out of California?” Spencer asked.
Jamie paused, as if the question had come from another planet. He stared at Spencer for a long second, then looked down at his menu. “I mean… I love California.” He paused. “It’s home. But I guess… if there was something for me somewhere else, I’d think about it.”
Spencer nodded, hiding the relief that bloomed in his chest. That was a good answer. Not too tied down. Not too closed off. He didn’t want Jamie to follow him out of desperation. He wanted him to choose it. To choose him.
Right now, Jamie still needed him more than he wanted him. Spencer could feel it in the way Jamie leaned into his warmth, the way he looked at him like he was the only safe thing left in the world. And Spencer didn’t mind being that. But he hoped eventually Jamie would want more than safety.
“My horse ranch is big,” Spencer said, keeping his tone easy. “Couple hundred acres. Horses, cattle, and a few goats that think they run the place. There’s always work—fencing, feeding, riding. It’s quiet. Peaceful.”
Jamie looked up. “Sounds amazing.”
Spencer smiled. “It is. You’d like riding the horses. They’re good listeners and never ask questions.”
Jamie gave a small laugh, the first real one of the morning. Spencer held onto that sound as if it were gold.
He didn’t know what would happen next. Whether Jamie would stay a few days or longer. Whether he’d ever talk about Tom or that damn Jeep. But for now, they had pancakes, coffee, and a booth that smelled like cinnamon.
Spencer cleared his throat and leaned back, trying to shift the mood. “Did you know I lived in Los Angeles for five years?”
Jamie looked up, surprised. “No. Did you leave your ranch?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said, smiling faintly. “I left at eighteen to join a band. Nathan—my friend and ex-drummer—is the one who invited me up here.”
Jamie momentarily shut and reopened his eyes. “You were in a band? What did you play?”
“Guitar,” Spencer said, grinning now. “And I was the lead singer.”
“Did you sing country?”
“Nope. Never. Had longer hair back then, dressed a lot differently. Pierced earrings, leather pants, the whole mess.”
Jamie’s eyebrows lifted, and for the first time that morning, a flicker of amusement crossed his face. “You? Leather pants?”
Spencer chuckled. “I’ll have to show you a picture sometime. I looked like I belonged on Sunset Boulevard, not on a horse.”
Jamie smiled, but it was soft, tentative.
Spencer could still see the weight in his eyes.
The Jeep had rattled him. Spencer wanted to reach across the table, take his hand, tell him he didn’t have to carry it alone.
But he held back. Jamie needed space to want him—not just lean on him because he had nowhere else to go.
“I went as far as getting the band’s name tattooed on my back.”
Jamie gave a small laugh, and Spencer felt something loosen in his chest. He didn’t know what this was yet—what they were. But he knew he wanted to keep showing Jamie that not everyone leaves. Not everyone lies. Some people stay. Some people care.
“What was the name of your band?” Jamie asked
Spencer smiled at the question, the corners of his mouth tugging up before he even answered. “Black Shadows,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue like an old song lyric.
Jamie tilted his head, curious, and Spencer felt a flicker of warmth in his chest. That name still meant something to him. Not fame or glory—just a time when things felt electric and alive.
His mind drifted back to a night in Hollywood, years ago.
The stage lights had been blinding, the crowd packed tight and buzzing with energy.
He remembered gripping the mic, sweat slick on his palms, and belting out the chorus of their most-loved song while the audience sang it right back at him.
That moment—standing under the lights, heart pounding, voice soaring—had felt like flying.
Like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
He’d looked over at his bandmates, all of them grinning like fools, and thought, We did it. We’re really here. That memory still lived in his bones, a reminder of what it felt like to be seen and heard.
Now, sitting across from Jamie, Spencer felt the contrast. No roaring crowd. No spotlight. Just one person looking at him with soft eyes, asking questions not for entertainment, but because he cared.
“Was it a rock band?” Jamie asked, voice light.
“Yeah,” Spencer said, chuckling. “Kind of moody, kind of loud. We had a thing for leather jackets and dramatic lyrics.”
Jamie smiled, and Spencer felt that same old spark—smaller, quieter, but just as real. Maybe this wasn’t a stage, but it was still a moment. And maybe, just maybe, it mattered even more.
The bells over the restaurant door jingled, interrupting his sacred memory, and Spencer looked up just in time to see Nathan and Alfie stroll in, both bundled up and grinning like they’d had a good morning in bed.
Nathan spotted them in the booth instantly and made a beeline for it, Alfie trailing behind.
“I guess you started the party earlier?” Nathan teased, eyes flicking between Spencer and Jamie.
Spencer smirked. “This is Jamie Butler. He’s staying with me, but don’t worry, we’ll both be at the party.”
Jamie gave a polite nod, clearly still a little shy around new people. Spencer could feel the tension in him, like he wasn’t sure if he belonged here or if this was all temporary. Spencer wanted to ease that, but he also didn’t want to rush it.
Nathan introduced himself and Alfie, and Spencer gestured to the open ends of the booth. “Sit with us.”
They slid in, and Alfie leaned forward, curious. “Where are you from?”
“Brentwood,” Jamie said.
“We’re not too far from there,” Alfie replied, smiling.
Nathan gave Spencer a subtle side-eye—one of those what’s going on here? Spencer shrugged back, palms up. No clue. They’d been friends long enough to have entire conversations without words.
“I’m trying to get Spencer to move out here.” Nathan nudged Jamie as if he was letting him in on a secret.
Jamie froze for a minute, clearly unsure how to respond, then gave a small smile, saying nothing. Spencer could tell he was still processing everything—being here, being seen, being cared for. It was a lot.
After they finished breakfast, the server removed the dishes from their table.
“We’ll meet you two at the party cabin in an hour or two,” Spencer said, standing after Nathan and Alfie got up. “I need to grab a few things for Jamie.”
Nathan had caught it too. That look. The one that passed between them as they stood from the booth. Nathan didn’t say anything, but his eyes said plenty: You’re already halfway in, aren’t you? Spencer gave a small shrug in return. Yeah. Maybe I am.
Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about Jamie’s jacket or the lack of one.
He led Jamie out into the cold, watching the boy’s shoulders hunch as they walked to the truck.
Spencer’s gut twisted. It wasn’t just about the jacket—it was everything.
Jamie had been left behind, abandoned in the snow like he didn’t matter.
No coat, no bag, no backup plan. Just a quiet kind of heartbreak that settled in his eyes and hadn’t left since.
Spencer opened the passenger door and waited for Jamie to climb in before circling to his side.
As he started the engine, he glanced over and saw Jamie rubbing his hands together, trying to warm them up.
It hit him harder than he had expected. No one should be this cold.
Not like this. Not after what he’s been through.
Spencer didn’t say anything right away. He just drove, mind already spinning with what he’d get Jamie at the store. Not just a jacket—he needed layers, warmth, comfort. Things that said you’re safe now without having to say it out loud.
He didn’t know what Jamie would think of it. Maybe he’d resist. Maybe he’d feel weird about it. But Spencer didn’t care. He would not let that boy freeze. Not on his watch.
They drove to the enormous store just outside town, one of those places that sold everything from flannel shirts to snow tires. Jamie hesitated at the entrance, looking overwhelmed.
“You don’t need to buy me anything,” he said.
Spencer stopped and turned to him. “It’s the daddy part of me,” he whispered. “I want to help you. Please let me get you a few things.”
Jamie’s cheeks flushed pink, and he nodded slowly.
“I know I’m not your daddy,” Spencer added, “but just for today, let me feel that good feeling of taking care of a boy.”
Jamie didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said enough.
Spencer went all in. Seven of everything—underwear, socks, shirts, sweaters, jeans. One leather jacket fit Jamie as if it had been made for him. He watched Jamie light up with each item, like he couldn’t believe someone would do this for him. That smile? Worth every penny.
He added boots, gloves, a hat, and a scarf to the pile. Jamie held the scarf as if it were a gift from another world.
“I can’t believe you’re buying me all these things,” Jamie said, voice thick with emotion. “No one has ever treated me like this before.”
Spencer handed the cashier his card and looked at Jamie with quiet certainty. “That’s what daddies do for their boy. If nothing else, I want you to know what a good daddy feels like.”
Jamie didn’t respond right away, but the way he looked at Spencer—like he was seeing something he’d never known he needed—said everything.