Chapter Eight
Jamie
Spencer didn’t push. “Let’s take a little walk outside,” he said, like it was an offer, not a demand.
Jamie hesitated when Spencer suggested the walk. It wasn’t a direct order, and that alone made Jamie feel a little safer. Still, he wasn’t sure what was waiting for him out there—more feelings, more questions, and maybe even more hurt.
He followed Spencer to the coat rack, tugging on his jacket, the one Spencer had bought him. The one that meant more than Jamie could ever explain.
He remembered the first time he’d walked into the boutique alone, heart pounding, eyes scanning the racks for the perfect leather jacket.
He’d wanted to match Daddy Tom—look cool, look wanted, look like he belonged beside him.
Daddy Tom had told him to go inside and pick one out while he made a phone call.
Jamie had waited, clutching the sleeve of a jacket he loved, imagining Daddy Tom walking in, smiling, saying, “That’s the one, baby.
” But Daddy Tom never came. He never paid.
He never even looked. Jamie had stood there for what felt like forever until the sales clerk gave him that pitying look, and Jamie realized he’d been left behind. Again.
That jacket had stayed in the store. And Jamie had walked out feeling smaller than ever.
But this jacket—the one Spencer bought him—was different.
Spencer had gone with him. Had walked through the store beside him, not ahead or behind.
He’d asked Jamie what he liked, not told him what he should wear.
He’d held up options, encouraged him to try them on, waited patiently while Jamie hesitated.
And when Jamie had slipped into the one that made him feel strong and soft all at once, Spencer had smiled and said, “That’s the one. Do you love it?”
Jamie had nodded, and Spencer had paid. No hesitation. No disappearing act. Just quiet care.
The shopping trip had felt like something out of a dream—like being chosen, not tolerated. Like being seen.
Now, as Jamie tugged the jacket tighter around himself, he looked over at Spencer and said softly, “Thank you for this. Really. This jacket means more than you’ll ever know.”
Spencer didn’t say anything right away, but Jamie saw the way his eyes softened. And for once, Jamie didn’t feel like he had to explain the ache behind his words. Spencer already understood.
As they stepped outside, the snow was still falling, soft and steady. Jamie kept his eyes on the path, trying not to overthink whatever this walk was supposed to be.
Spencer broke the silence. “Do you like Alfie?”
Jamie perked up a little. “Yeah. He offered to color my hair like his. What do you think?”
He wasn’t sure why he’d asked. Maybe he wanted Spencer’s approval. Maybe he just wanted to keep talking so the quiet wouldn’t swallow him.
Spencer smiled. “I like the color of your hair right now. But that’s totally up to you. You color your hair to please yourself, not others.”
Jamie froze for a few moments. Those words didn’t compute. Please myself? What did that even mean? “I don’t understand.”
Jamie didn’t do things for himself. He never had. He dressed how people liked, said what wouldn’t rock the boat, tried to be the version of himself that wouldn’t get left behind. Pleasing others was how he survived. It was how he stayed wanted.
He glanced at Spencer, wondering if he’d said something wrong. Wondering if Spencer would pull away now Jamie had admitted he didn’t know how to want things for himself.
Is that weird? Is that broken? Jamie didn’t know. But he felt it—this ache in his chest that maybe he’d been living backwards all this time.
Outside, the snow had picked up, thick flakes swirling down like the sky was trying to bury everything.
They carefully made their way down the path toward the lake, boots crunching in the fresh powder. Jamie kept glancing sideways at Spencer, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he was about to say something that would unravel him even more.
“Can we talk about what happened to you?” Spencer asked.
Jamie hesitated. “You heard what I said to Alfie. About the store. About being dumped. That’s what happened.”
Spencer shook his head gently. “I wasn’t talking about that. I want to know how Tom treated you as a little.”
Jamie’s stomach twisted. That was harder. “That’s… complicated.”
“I know,” Spencer said. “You told me you’re a little, and I believe you. But not all littles need the same thing. I want to know what you wanted—and then what you got.”
Jamie stared out at the lake, snowflakes melting on his lashes.
He wasn’t sure he could answer that. Not yet.
But maybe with Spencer beside him, he could try.
Jamie turned to face Spencer, heart thudding a little harder than he liked.
“Why do you want to know that?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out more brittle than he meant.
Spencer didn’t hesitate. “Because I like you very much. I want to see you smile again.”
Jamie swallowed. That was sweet. Too sweet. It made him nervous. He wasn’t used to someone wanting his smile for no reason. He remembered what Alfie had told him. Tell him you want him or that you like him. How could he admit his needs?
“I need my binky.” He pulled it out and gave a long suck on it, then removed it from his mouth and stuffed it back into his pocket.
“There’s nothing wrong with that at all. Some people smoke.”
“Do you smoke?” Jamie doubted he did, but he wanted to continue the conversation or at least appear like he was taking part in it with no heavy emotions.
“My grandfather would have killed me on the spot if he had caught me smoking.”
“What about your parents?” Jamie asked.
“My grandfather raised me. I never met my parents.”
“What happened to them?” Jamie felt a pang of sadness, imagining Spencer not knowing his own parents.
“Don’t know for sure, but my grandfather told me they wanted off the ranch when I was an infant, and he wouldn’t approve it unless they turned me over to him.”
“Why did they need your grandfather’s approval?”
“Money, I guess. My grandfather controlled with money. When he supported something you wanted, he gave money and a pat on the back. He did that to me when I left too. But he wouldn’t approve if I didn’t promise to return to the ranch when he passed away.
So that’s what I did. I left the band and California to fulfill my promise. ”
“Why didn’t your parents come back to get you or see you?”
“Don’t know. I asked myself that often. My grandfather’s story never changed even when I grew up. He said they signed me over to him and to stop asking him.”
“Wow!”
“Let’s get back to what you need as a little.”
“I like a lot of attention,” he admitted, eyes flicking away. “Probably too much. That’s what Daddy Tom used to say. He said I had no right to steal all his free time when he had better things to do.”
The words felt ugly coming out, like he was confessing something shameful. Jamie braced himself for Spencer to agree, to nod and say yeah, that was clingy or needy or whatever people said when they didn’t want to deal with him.
Spencer’s mouth opened slightly along with his stunned expression, reflecting his shock. “Where did he go?”
Jamie shrugged, trying to keep his voice devoid of any emotion. “Clubs and parties.”
Spencer’s face didn’t change, but Jamie could feel the shift in the air. “What did you do at home?”
Jamie hesitated. “I’d listen to music. Take a bubble bath.
Then I’d go to bed and try to sleep.” He didn’t say how long he’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if Daddy Tom would come home drunk or not at all.
He didn’t say how small he felt in those moments, like he’d shrunk into something invisible.
Spencer’s voice was firmer now. “Let me say this. No one treats a little or a boyfriend like that. That behavior is labeled as a red flag. That tells you something is very wrong with the relationship on both sides.”
Jamie flinched. “Was I wrong too?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t know what answer he wanted. Part of him was scared Spencer would say yes, that he’d been too much, too clingy, too needy. But another part—quiet and aching—hoped Spencer would say no. Maybe Jamie hadn’t been the problem. And maybe wanting love wasn’t a flaw.