Chapter Twenty
Jamie
Jamie waved as Daddy Spencer’s truck pulled away, the tires crunching over fresh snow.
Nathan had hopped in with a quick goodbye, leaving Jamie and Alfie standing on the porch of the cozy little cabin.
The air smelled of pine and chimney smoke, and for a moment, Jamie let himself believe it would be a fun-filled morning.
Jamie followed Alfie to the tiny kitchen. Alfie rolled up his sleeves, pulling out ingredients like he was on a mission. “Waffles first,” he said, grinning. “Then gingerbread boys. You in?”
Jamie nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Absolutely.”
They made a mess of the kitchen—flour on the counter, whipped cream on their fingers, strawberries sliced and stolen before they made it to the plate.
Alfie’s waffles were golden and crispy, piled high with toppings, and Jamie felt himself relax a little as they sat at the table, laughing between bites.
When the cookies were baked, they leaned against the counter, decorating gingerbread boys with shaky icing lines and way too many sprinkles. The conversation drifted, as it always did, to their daddies.
Jamie hesitated, then said, “I saw Billy.”
Alfie’s eyes narrowed. “Ugh. That little bitch.”
“I thought he had more going on,” Jamie admitted. “Like… I don’t know. I thought he’d be more put together. But he’s just… mean. I keep worrying he’s gonna try to get Daddy Spencer back.”
Alfie snorted. “He’ll never take him back. Not in a million years. Spencer hates him. And Farlan too.”
“You met Farlan?”
“Yeah. He was the keyboard guy for Black Shadows. Total asshole. Drinks too much, talks too loud, thinks he’s God’s gift to music. He wants to join Nathan’s new band, but Nathan won’t take him back.”
Jamie was about to ask more when a loud, aggressive pounding shook the front door.
They exchanged a look.
Alfie wiped his hands on a dish towel and walked over, Jamie right behind him. He opened the door—and there was Billy.
He looked the same as before: long blond hair, black clothes, tattoos, that smug glint in his eyes. Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed his way inside.
“I’m looking for Nathan,” he said, scanning the room. Then his gaze landed on Jamie, and his mouth curled into a sneer. “Well, well. You’re still here.”
Jamie stiffened.
Billy stepped closer. “You’re not enough for Daddy Spencer, you know that, right?”
Jamie’s stomach dropped. The way he said Daddy Spencer made his skin crawl. It felt mocking, like he was trying to twist something sacred into something dirty.
“Don’t call him that,” Jamie snapped. “You don’t get to.”
Billy raised an eyebrow. “Touchy, little princess.”
“Get the hell out of here,” Jamie shouted.
Billy didn’t move. He just stood there in the front room, smirking like he knew something Jamie didn’t. “I’ve got your suitcase and backpack in my car. Want them?”
Jamie rolled his eyes, his stomach tightening. “Yeah… I guess.”
But even as he said it, confusion swirled in his chest. How did Billy get my stuff? The last time Jamie saw his suitcase and backpack, they were still in Tom’s Jeep. He hadn’t gone back for them. Daddy Spencer hadn’t picked them up yet. There was only one way Billy could’ve gotten them.
He had to have seen Tom.
Jamie’s breath caught. His mind raced, piecing it together. Billy knew about Tom. He’d thrown Tom’s name around like it was a weapon. And now he had Jamie’s things… things Tom should’ve had locked away or ignored. Did Billy go to Tom’s cabin? Did they talk? Did they laugh at me?
Jamie felt a wave of nausea wash over him.
Billy returned a few minutes later, casually dropping the suitcase and backpack at Jamie’s feet like they were trash bags. Jamie stared at them, heart pounding. They looked untouched, but they felt tainted now—like they’d been handled by people who didn’t care if he ever came back for them.
Billy leaned in, voice low and cruel. “By the way… I slept with your Daddy Tom last night. Too bad you don’t get him anymore.”
Jamie froze.
“Leave, you little bitch!” Alfie shouted as he shoved him towards the door.
“Daddy Tom fucked me five times,” Billy shouted to Jamie as Alfie was pushing him away.
Before Jamie could react, Alfie slammed the door on Billy, the sound echoing through the empty house.
The room spun. Jamie’s knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, the cold seeping through his jeans.
His chest ached as if something had cracked open.
He didn’t even know why it hurt so much.
He didn’t want Tom, not anymore, but the thought of them together, of Billy touching what used to be his, of them laughing about him behind his back.
Tears wouldn’t stop. Tom and Billy. It wasn’t just betrayal. It was humiliating. He was being reminded that he was replaceable. That his Daddy Tom who once claimed to care could toss him aside and find comfort with that slimeball Billy.
Jamie tried to hold himself together. But the pain was sharp, relentless. He felt small. Exposed. Like everything he’d built with Daddy Spencer could be undone in one cruel moment.
He didn’t want to be strong right now. He just wanted Daddy Spencer.
His suitcase and backpack sat beside him like ghosts—proof that Billy had been with Tom, that he’d touched the last pieces of Jamie’s old life and twisted them into something cruel. Tom fucked Billy five times. The words echoed in Jamie’s head, over and over, each repetition cutting deeper.
Then Alfie dropped to the floor beside him—no hesitation, no judgment. He wrapped his arms around Jamie, pulling him close, rocking him gently like he knew exactly how much it hurt.
“Jamie,” Alfie whispered, voice steady and warm, “Billy’s a fucking liar. He says things just to hurt people. That’s what he does.”
Jamie sobbed harder, his fingers clutching Alfie’s shirt like he was afraid to let go.
“I don’t even understand how he got your stuff,” Alfie continued. “Tom wouldn’t just hand it over. Would he? Something’s off. Billy probably manipulated someone, or maybe he stole it. But whatever happened, it doesn’t mean anything about you.”
Jamie shook his head, unable to speak, the shame and confusion tangled too tightly inside him.
Alfie held him tighter. “You’re not weak. You’re not stupid. You’re not less than. You’re brave, Jamie. You’re kind. You’re the kind of person people fight to keep. Spencer sees that. I see that. And even my Daddy Nathan sees it too.”
Jamie’s breathing slowed, the sobs softening into hiccups. He didn’t feel better exactly, but he felt less alone.
“And this is just what Spencer went through for six months before he left for Montana.”
After a while, Alfie helped him sit up, wiping Jamie’s cheeks with a tissue on the coffee table. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s finish these cookies. They’re waiting for us.”
Jamie nodded, voice still shaky. “Okay.”
They returned to the kitchen, the scent of ginger and sugar still hanging in the air.
Alfie handed Jamie a piping bag and nudged him toward the tray.
Slowly, Jamie began decorating again—clumsy swirls of icing, crooked smiles on gingerbread boys.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.
Jamie’s thoughts swirled around so many times.
Jamie needed air. Space. Something that didn’t smell like gingerbread or feel like someone else’s comfort. He turned to Alfie, voice quiet but firm. “I need to be alone. I’m going to take a walk.”
Alfie looked worried, tried to talk him out of it, but Jamie was already pulling on his jacket and boots. He knew where he was going. He’d remembered how close Tom’s cabin was—the one they were supposed to share. The one that still felt like a broken promise.
It was within walking distance. Too close, really.
The snow crunched beneath his feet as he made his way through the trees, heart pounding harder with every step. When he saw Tom’s Jeep parked out front, something inside him twisted. That Jeep had once felt like safety. Now it felt like betrayal.
Jamie stood at the door for a long moment, then raised his hand and knocked.
Tom answered almost immediately, like he’d been waiting. “Come in, Jamie.”
Jamie stepped inside, but he didn’t sit. He couldn’t. The living room looked warm. He stood there trembling; the words rising before he could stop them.
“You’re a fucking bastard,” he said, voice shaking. “You weren’t man enough to break up with me. You left me with nothing. I was crumpled on the side of the road. Because of you.”
Tom’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Jamie. You’re right. I didn’t know how to end us.”
“That’s just another fucking lie! You planned it all out without telling me that you sent our applications to the Find a Daddy Christmas mixer in November. This was not going to be a party to meet your friends.”
He stepped closer, and Jamie instinctively backed away.
“Why didn’t you pick me up at the boutique? You left me all alone.”
“I thought it would be a cleaner break.”
“You didn’t give a fuck if I were alive or dead, did you?”
“I knew you were okay,” Tom said. “I got word. I knew you were with that cowboy—Spencer. I know all about what you were doing.”
Jamie’s stomach turned. So, he’d been watching. From a distance. Enough to know, but not enough to care.
“Why didn’t you bring me my things?” Jamie snapped. “You let Billy bring them. What if he threw my shit away?”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Tom said.
Jamie clenched his fists. “I still have my house key, but it’s in my backpack.”
“No, I removed it.”
“We’re going to stop by and pack my stuff up.”
“No need,” Tom replied. “Everything’s packed. Just waiting for an address to ship them to. Email me when you have a new place.”
Jamie nodded, numb. It was too clean. Too easy. Like he was just another box to check off.
Tom looked at him, softer now. “Want me to drive you back to your cabin?”
Jamie turned, voice sharp. “Fuck no.”
He walked out, boots crunching hard against the snow. He could feel Tom’s eyes on him, burning into his back. And then—he heard footsteps.
Before he could react, Tom caught up and grabbed him, arms wrapping around him in a sudden hug.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Jamie froze. The touch was familiar, but it didn’t feel safe anymore. It felt like manipulation. Like guilt dressed up as affection.
He broke free, pulling away with everything he had, and kept walking. He didn’t look back.