Chapter Nine
Spencer
Spencer watched Jamie’s face as the silence stretched between them, snowflakes catching in his lashes. He hated having to say this, but he knew he had to.
“You were wrong to stay in that relationship, Jamie,” he said gently, but firmly. “I know it’s hard to hear, but it was up to you to walk away.”
Jamie’s shoulders tensed, and Spencer could already see the flicker of shame in his eyes.
He pressed on, trying to keep his voice steady, kind.
“You have to learn what you like and what you don’t.
What feels good, what doesn’t. And when someone says something that hurts you?
You tell them. You fucking tell them. And you make sure it doesn’t happen again. ”
Spencer’s breath caught as he watched Jamie crumble in front of him.
Jamie stared at the ground, silent and still, which made Spencer’s chest ache.
Then came the hitch in Jamie’s breath, the quiet unraveling, and Spencer saw the tears fall.
It was like watching someone fold in on themselves, and it gutted him.
“I thought I was doing okay,” Jamie whispered, voice raw. “I thought if I just tried harder, he’d stay. That I could be enough.”
Spencer’s heart clenched. Damn it. That wasn’t what he’d meant. He hadn’t wanted to make Jamie feel broken or blamed. He’d just wanted to help him see the truth—that he deserved better. That he was better.
He stepped closer, careful not to startle him, and reached out to touch Jamie’s arm. His fingers brushed against the leather of Jamie’s sleeve, grounding them both.
“Hey, hey,” he whispered, voice low and steady. “I didn’t mean it like that. You didn’t fail, Jamie. You were doing your best with what you knew. But now? Now you get to learn something different. Something better.”
Spencer’s throat tightened. He hated seeing Jamie like this—so vulnerable, so convinced he was the problem. And somewhere in the middle of that ache, Spencer realized something terrifying and beautiful: he couldn’t walk away from Jamie. Not now. Not ever.
He wanted him.
Not just for comfort or protection. He wanted Jamie to be his. To hold him when he cried, to laugh with him when he healed, to be the one Jamie turned to—not out of fear, but out of trust.
Spencer reached up slowly, giving Jamie time to pull away if he needed to. But Jamie didn’t move. So Spencer leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips—soft, tentative, full of everything he hadn’t said yet.
Jamie froze for a second, then melted into it, and Spencer felt something shift inside him. This wasn’t just a kiss. It was a promise.
When they pulled apart, Spencer rested his forehead against Jamie’s, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re enough, Jamie. You always were. Let me show you.”
And in that moment, Spencer knew—he wasn’t going anywhere.
Jamie sniffled, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. Spencer gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood just a little.
“Okay, so… I’ve got an idea,” he said, crouching a bit, so they were eye level.
“I want to help you figure out what feels good and what doesn’t.
But I don’t want to guess or make you talk when you’re not ready.
So how about this—three cards? Green means you’re okay; you’re good with what’s happening.
Red means nope, not okay, stop. And yellow means you’re not sure yet and want to talk about it. ”
Jamie’s eyes betrayed a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Like traffic lights?”
“Exactly,” Spencer said, grinning. “You don’t have to explain everything right away. Just hold up a card. Or say the color. That way I know where you’re at, and you don’t have to carry it all alone.”
Jamie was quiet for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Okay. I think I’d like that.”
Spencer felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Good. We’ll figure this out together, yeah?”
Jamie gave him a watery smile. “Yeah.”
Spencer reached out and gently squeezed his hand. “You’re not too much, Jamie. You never were. You just needed someone who wanted to listen.”
As Jamie inched closer, he wrapped his arms around Spencer. The warmth of his body was perfect as he rested his head.
“What color was my kiss, Jamie?” Spencer looked down at Jamie’s expression.
“Very green.” Jamie’s face burned with a fiery red glow.
Spencer took his hand. “Let’s get back to the cabin and help our friends some more.”
When they returned to the cabin, Nathan had ordered pizza and beer.
“Just in time,” Nathan said. “Sit down.”
“We thought you’d both turned into snowmen,” Alfie said.
After lunch, Spencer had slipped away from the hum of conversation and laughter, leaving Jamie with Alfie, who was still buzzing with energy and kindness. Spencer watched them for a moment before heading to the office area, where Nathan was nursing a beer.
Nathan looked up as Spencer walked in. “What’s going on between you and Jamie?” he asked, casual but curious.
Spencer leaned against the desk, arms crossed, trying to find the right words. His heart was still tangled up in everything Jamie had said earlier—about trying to be enough, about being left behind. Spencer hadn’t stopped thinking about it.
“Something real is going on,” he paused. “But I’m not sure if he wants his old daddy back. If Jamie were given a choice… would he go back?”
Nathan’s expression darkened. “Why would he? After he dumped him in the fucking snow?”
Spencer winced. That image haunted him too. Jamie, alone and freezing, waited for someone who never came. It made Spencer’s stomach twist every time he thought about it.
“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted. “But I think I know who his last daddy was.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
Spencer hesitated. Saying it out loud made it feel heavier. “Tom. He’s the same guy who was hitting on Alfie.”
Nathan sat up straighter, eyes narrowing. “Fuck no. That’s Tom Mason from Brentwood.”
“How did you find out his last name?”
Nathan took another sip of his beer, jaw tight. “Alfie told me. Said the guy was all charm and no soul. Gave him the creeps.”
Spencer’s chest tightened. He thought about Jamie again—how soft his voice had been when he talked about being left, how unsure he was about what he deserved.
Spencer hated that someone like Tom had gotten close enough to hurt him.
And now, knowing it was that Tom, the one who had tried to charm Alfie like it was a game, made Spencer’s blood run cold.
He looked back toward the party room, where Jamie was laughing at something Alfie said, and felt a fierce protectiveness rise in him. Jamie deserved better. He deserved safety, warmth, someone who wouldn’t disappear when things got hard.
Spencer wouldn’t be another person who left. Not now. Not ever.
“What else did you find out about him?”