Chapter Sixteen
Jamie
Daddy Spencer and Nathan dropped them off in front of the alley, promising to swing by later after grabbing a few things for the mixer. Jamie watched them drive off, then turned to Alfie with a grin. “Let’s get a beer before we embarrass ourselves.”
Jamie froze for a second, just inside the doorway. It had been years. The last time he’d been in a bowling alley was with Ben.
His older brother used to take him every other Friday, just the two of them.
Ben had taught him how to hold the bowl, how to line up his shot, how to laugh when he guttered it.
They’d split a basket of fries and drink root beer from plastic cups, and Ben would always give him five dollars if he won the game.
Jamie could still hear Ben’s voice in his head: “Keep your wrist loose, kid. You’re not throwing a brick.” He’d say it with a grin, nudging Jamie’s shoulder like they were teammates in some secret league.
And then one day, Ben was gone.
No warning. No goodbye. Just disappeared.
Jamie had bowled a perfect game the night before, and to this day Jamie kept the same five dollars from Ben.
The next morning, the house was dead silent in a way that felt terribly wrong.
His parents refused to mention Ben’s name, as if it was a forbidden word, a memory that would bring Jamie to tears.
Now, standing in the alley’s glow, Jamie ached. The joy and the loss tangled together. He missed Ben. Missed the way he made everything feel like an adventure. Missed the way he saw Jamie—not as a burden, but as a little brother worth showing the world to.
Alfie nudged him gently. “You good?”
Jamie nodded. “Yeah. Just… haven’t been in a bowling alley in a long time.”
They walked toward the bar, and Jamie let the nostalgia settle in his chest. He wasn’t the same kid Ben used to coach, but maybe tonight, he could still bowl like he was. Maybe he could carry a little piece of Ben with him down the lane.
They grabbed a couple of root beers and fries and settled into a booth near the lanes. Alfie leaned back, sipping his drink, eyes curious. “Is everything okay with you and Spencer?”
Jamie smiled, a little shy but proud. “More than okay. He asked me to call him Daddy Spencer last night.”
Alfie raised his eyebrows. “Whoa. That’s serious.”
Jamie shrugged, sipping his root beer after eating a few fries. “It felt right. I didn’t expect it, but… yeah. It felt good.”
“Are you going to move in with him?”
Jamie stared at the bubbles rising in his drink, the hum of the bowling alley fading into the background.
Alfie’s question hung in the air like smoke.
Jamie hesitated, the words catching in his throat.
Move in with Daddy Spencer. It sounded like a dream, but dreams had a way of slipping through his fingers.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “We haven’t talked about that. ”
Alfie tilted his head, watching him. “I bet he’s waiting to see if you go back to your Daddy Tom.”
“He’s not my Daddy Tom anymore.” He spoke much louder than he had planned. “Just Terrible Tom.”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Jamie’s stomach twisted. He frowned, eyes narrowing. “Do you think Daddy Spencer thinks I’ll go back to him?”
Alfie nodded. “He’s probably worried about the mixer.”
“Who isn’t worried about that mixer?” He dipped a fry in ketchup.
“What are you gonna do if you see Terrible Tom?”
Jamie’s jaw clenched. The thought of seeing Tom again made his skin crawl. “Tell him I want all my shit back.”
Alfie laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you gonna cause a scene or keep it low-key?”
Jamie didn’t laugh. He stared into his root beer, the brown liquid reflecting the neon lights above.
“I don’t know,” he uttered. “I hope not.” But he didn’t trust himself.
Not around Tom. Not after everything. He had every reason to make a shameless scene and humiliate him there.
He was no longer afraid of Tom with Spencer as his daddy.
“Whatever happens, I’ll stand with you.” Alfie dipped two fries into the ketchup.
“Tom did things I can’t even talk about,” Jamie added, voice barely above a whisper. His chest tightened. The memories were still there—handcuffs, threats, and broken promises. The way Tom had made him feel small, disposable. Like love was something you earned by staying silent.
Jamie swallowed hard. Daddy Spencer would never do that. Daddy Spencer made him feel seen. Safe. Wanted. But what if Daddy Spencer didn’t ask him to stay? What if he was just a warm place to land for a little while?
The fear slithered in silently and cold like a deadly snake. What if I’m not enough to keep him?
He looked up at Alfie, trying to smile but not quite making it. “I just don’t want to go back to being afraid.”
Alfie’s expression turned deadly serious. “Then don’t. You’ve got people who care about you now. Don’t let him take that away.”
Jamie nodded, gripping his beer tighter. He didn’t know what would happen at the mixer. But he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t the same boy Tom left behind. Not anymore.
Alfie’s face softened. “Was he mean to you?”
Jamie nodded. “Fuck yeah. He threatened me. Punished me a lot. Always when he’d promised to take me somewhere and then didn’t.”
Alfie leaned in. “How did he punish you?”
Jamie hesitated, then said quietly, “He used his handcuffs so I couldn’t leave, or he would lock me in the bedroom. And like an idiot, I never left when they were off. I was afraid of him.”
Alfie didn’t say anything for a moment. Jamie continued, voice low. “He never once said he loved me. I was just his closet toy. Being with Daddy Spencer… it’s been eye-opening.”
“Wasn’t Tom out?”
Jamie shook his head. “No. He’s the chief of police in Brentwood. I lived with him, but he never took me anywhere in public. Had to be seen with women, not young men. He made me feel like his dirty secret.”
“Why did you stay with him?”
“I thought I loved him.” He paused. The pain reignited inside him. “I believed if I did everything he wanted, he’d love me back. And when I did, I was fucking miserable. And even with all that shit I took from him, he distanced himself.”
“Hey! I made mistakes before Nathan too. Don’t beat yourself up. Shit happens. You’re over him, and you have Spencer.”
“I hate Tom now. Really hate him like I never hated anyone before. The man took all my innocence and goodness and turned it all into ashes. He left me with nothing.”
“No, Jamie. He didn’t take all of you. Nathan and I feel connected to you. And you’re good for Spencer. If you were ashes, you wouldn’t be able to be acceptable to Spencer.”
“Daddy Spencer is perfect for me except that he lives in Montana. He’s a Geographically Undesired.”
Alfie looked like he wanted to punch something. “What did Tom do to you to make you hate him?”
Jamie’s eyes flicked toward the lanes, watching a kid knock down a strike and cheer. “Knowing Daddy Spencer made me strong,” he said, avoiding Alfie’s question again. “Daddy Spencer’s the best thing in my life.”
Alfie smiled. “Nathan and I are going to Montana for Christmas Eve. Staying for a week.”
Jamie’s eyes widened. “Really?”
The words hit harder than he expected. A week in Montana.
With Daddy Spencer. At the ranch. Snow, horses, quiet mornings.
The place Daddy Spencer had described with that soft look in his eyes.
Jamie had pictured it more than once—waking up to the sound of wind in the trees, helping with chores, maybe learning to ride. Maybe just being close.
But Daddy Spencer hadn’t asked him to come.
Jamie tried to keep his face neutral, but something in his chest twisted.
He took a sip of his drink, hoping it would hide the sting.
Why didn’t he invite me too? They’d shared a bed.
Shared more than that. Daddy Spencer had held him like he meant it.
Had looked at him like he was something worth keeping.
And yet… no invitation.
Maybe he didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep. Maybe he was waiting to see if Jamie would run back to Tom. Maybe he didn’t trust that Jamie was really his. Or maybe—maybe he just didn’t see Jamie as part of that future.
Jamie forced a smile. “That sounds amazing,” he said, voice a little too light. “Montana must be beautiful this time of year.”
Alfie nodded. “It is. Peaceful. You’d love it.”
Jamie looked down at his hands, twisting the label on his bottle. I want to go. I want to be where he is. I just don’t know if he wants me there. The thought settled in his chest, a quiet ache beneath the surface of his smile.
“You should come too. If you don’t like it there, you can leave when we do.”
Jamie nodded slowly. “He hasn’t asked me yet.”
Alfie rested his hand on Jamie’s. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to say you want to go.”
“Maybe.”
They finished their drinks and fries, and then they hit the lanes.
Jamie laced up his rental shoes, still grinning from their earlier conversation.
He hadn’t bowled in forever, but something about tonight felt light.
Easy. He could breathe as he expected them laughing and trash-talking each other’s form.
For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was part of something.
Like maybe he had a future worth showing up for.
The bowling alley lights dimmed just enough for the neon to take over—glowing blues and greens bouncing off the polished lanes, casting a soft glow on everyone’s faces.
Jamie and Alfie had the place mostly to themselves, save for a few families and a couple of teens trying to impress each other with trick shots and loud laughter.
Alfie rolled first, knocking down a solid seven pins. “Not bad for someone who hasn’t bowled since high school,” he said, spinning around with a smug little bow.
Jamie laughed. “Alright, hotshot. Watch and learn.”
He stepped up to the lane, took a breath, and let the ball fly. It curved just right, clipping the edge of the head pin and sending all ten crashing down in a clean strike.
“Boom!” Jamie turned around with his arms in the air, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.
Alfie groaned. “Okay, okay, I see how it is.”
They kept going, trading playful jabs and cheering each other on. Jamie surprised himself—he was actually good. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was just that he finally felt like he could have fun again. Either way, he was on fire.
By the end of the game, Jamie had edged out Alfie by a solid twenty points. He did a little victory dance, arms flailing, while Alfie mock-bowed in defeat.
“Alright, alright, you win,” Alfie said, laughing. “But I demand a rematch another time.”
Jamie plopped down beside him, cheeks flushed from the excitement. “Deal. But I’m not going easy on you.”
They ordered another round of root beers and leaned back in the booth, watching the pins reset for the next group. Jamie felt a buzz of happiness in his chest, but underneath it, there was still that ache. That little voice reminded him of Tom. Of the silence. Of the way he’d been left behind.
But tonight, that voice was quieter.
He looked over at Alfie, who was scrolling through his phone. “Thanks for this,” Jamie said. “I needed it.”
Alfie smiled. “You’re welcome. You crushed me, but I’ll survive.”
Jamie laughed, then glanced toward the door, wondering if Daddy Spencer and Nathan were on their way back. He missed Daddy Spencer already, which was wild considering they hadn’t been apart for more than an hour.
But that’s what it felt like—like he belonged somewhere. Like maybe he was allowed to win at more than just bowling.