Chapter Twenty-Six
Spencer
Nathan caught Spencer just as he was heading toward the kitchen, hand on his phone, half-thinking about making phone calls and half-worrying about Jamie’s mood.
“Can we talk?” Nathan asked, voice low but firm. “Alone. In your study.”
Spencer nodded, heart already tightening.
He led Nathan down the hall to the study—a room tucked behind the living room with heavy oak doors and a view of the snow-covered pasture.
The space was warm, masculine, and lived-in, with dark leather chairs, a wide desk cluttered with veterinary journals and old notebooks.
Framed photos of horses and Spencer with his grandfather hung on the walls.
The scent of cedar lingered from the logs stacked nearby.
It was the one room in the house that still felt like his grandfather’s and never Spencer’s.
Nathan didn’t sit. He stood near the desk, arms crossed, eyes serious. “You really messed up with Aunt Millie,” he said bluntly. “You should’ve prepared her. You should’ve told her about Jamie before he walked in.”
He rubbed his hand through his beard, a familiar comfort against his skin. “I know. I just… I didn’t know how.”
Nathan stepped closer. “If you want this relationship to work, you can’t hide him. Not from her. Not from the town. Show up for him. Can you do that?”
Spencer hesitated. His mind flashed back to California—open spaces and no one asking questions. He’d felt safer there. Always had. Not just physically, but emotionally. He could be himself without worrying about who was watching or whispering behind his back.
“I thought I could,” Spencer whispered. “Back in California, it felt possible. But here? I don’t know. I’m not sure how to do it.”
Nathan’s voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. “Did you see Jamie’s face when you didn’t tell Aunt Millie he was your boyfriend? He looked devastated, Spence. Like he’d been shoved back into a closet he didn’t ask to be in.”
Spencer closed his eyes for a second, the image hitting hard. Jamie stood there, trying to smile, trying to be polite while Aunt Millie looked at him like he was a stray. Spencer hadn’t said the words. He hadn’t claimed him. And Jamie had felt it.
“I don’t want to lose him,” Spencer said.
“Then don’t hide him,” Nathan replied. “You can’t keep him tucked away in this house like some stowaway, hoping Aunt Millie doesn’t notice. She’s here every day. And Jamie deserves better.”
Spencer nodded slowly, the pressure mounting in his chest. He was on overload, trying to balance the ranch and the expectations of a town still whispering about Black Shadows, and now the most important relationship of his life.
But Nathan was right. Jamie wasn’t a secret.
He was Spencer’s heart. And it was time to stop pretending that wasn’t true.
He looked out the window at the snow covering the pasture and made a silent promise: he’d figure it out. He’d find a way to be brave. For Jamie. For them.
For the first time, Aunt Millie didn’t stay for Christmas Eve dinner. Jamie looked relieved and to be honest Spencer was too. He could put off telling her who Jamie was. As they ate the ham dinner, Jamie refrained from joining in any conversation.
“Are we going to go riding tomorrow?” Nathan asked.
“Sure thing. You okay with that, Jamie?” Spencer asked.
Jamie nodded. His plate was full. He had eaten nothing. Then he suddenly got up and went upstairs.
“What are you going to do about Jamie?” Nathan asked after Jamie was gone.
“I’m going upstairs to talk to him.”
“Remember, he can come back with us if he wants to leave. He can stay with us until he is settled.”
“Don’t talk about him leaving.” Spence was close to losing his mind soon if he didn’t solve the issue with Jamie. “He just got here.”
“You’re treating him like Tom did,” Alfie jumped into the conversation. “Jamie told me Tom wasn’t out because of his job. So, they couldn’t be seen in public.”
Nathan gave Alfie a sharp look, disapproving of his comment.
“Alfie! Are you really comparing me to Tom?” Spencer asked.
“I just want you to see how Jamie sees what’s going on here.”
Spencer pushed his chair back, scraping the floor, stood up and then climbed the stairs. The bedroom door was closed. He knocked on it. “Hey, can I come in?”
Jamie cracked open the door, and a sliver of light escaped.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Spencer asked as he sat beside Jamie on the bed.
“You never mentioned Aunt Millie was living here.”
“She doesn’t live here. She only works here.” Spencer knew Jamie was right.
“But you never mentioned her. Why?”
“I don’t know. She’s not exactly a selling point, is she?”
“She hates me. She thinks I’m up to no good.”
“She’s different. Okay. She’s a little homophobic.”
“And you’re gay. And you let her work in your home. Why?”
“Good question. She helped out when my grandfather lived here, so I wouldn’t throw her into the streets.”
“It’s your home now, not your grandfather’s.”
“It doesn’t feel like mine. My grandfather’s ghost is still lurking everywhere.”
“Are you ever going to tell her who I am?”
Spencer nodded.
Jamie just stared at him for the longest time, then asked, “Can we go see the horses?”
And Spencer didn’t hesitate. He grabbed their jackets from the hooks by the door, handed Jamie his boots, and they bundled up against the cold. The snow outside was thick and powdery, crunching underfoot as they made their way across the yard toward the barn.
The barn was one of Spencer’s favorite places on the ranch.
Big, red, and weathered, with wide double doors and a pitched roof that looked postcard-perfect under the snow.
Inside, it was warm from the body heat of the horses and the insulation packed into the walls.
The scent of hay, leather, and animals hit them as soon as they stepped in—comforting, earthy, familiar.
Spencer flipped on the overhead lights, and the barn came alive.
Rows of stalls lined both sides, each with a nameplate and a curious head poking out.
There was Daisy, the sweet young mare with a heart-shaped patch on her nose.
Thunder, the black gelding who acted like he was still five years old.
And Maple, Spencer’s favorite—a chestnut with a stubborn streak and a soft spot for apples.
Jamie’s eyes lit up, and Spencer felt the weight in his chest loosen.
He watched Jamie stroll down the aisle, stopping to greet each horse, whispering to them like they were old friends.
Spencer grabbed a bucket of feed and showed him how to scoop and portion it, how to hold his hand flat when offering treats.
“This is Maple,” Spencer said, patting the mare’s neck. “She’ll pretend she doesn’t like you, but she’ll follow you around like a puppy once she decides you’re okay.”
Jamie laughed, the sound echoing off the barn walls. “She’s beautiful.”
Spencer nodded, watching Jamie stroke Maple’s nose. “She is. She’s a handful, though. Like someone else I know.”
Jamie gave him a playful shove, and Spencer grinned. But underneath the smile, his thoughts were spinning.
He loved seeing Jamie like this—relaxed, curious, glowing.
But he couldn’t shake the worry. Montana was a far cry from California.
No palm trees, no ocean breeze, no late-night walks on the beach.
Just snow, silence, and wide-open spaces.
Spencer had grown up here, had learned to love the quiet, but Jamie?
What if he missed the sun too much? What if he woke up one morning and realized this wasn’t home?
Spencer leaned against the stall door, watching Jamie feed Thunder a handful of oats. He looked happy. But was it enough?
“You doing okay?” Spencer asked, trying to keep it casual.
Jamie turned, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes bright. “Yeah. I like it here. It’s different, but… good different.”
“Which horse is your favorite?”
“Daisy.”
Spencer nodded, swallowing the knot in his throat. He wanted to believe that. He really did. But part of him was bracing for the day Jamie might say, “I miss California. I miss the beach. I miss my life.”
And if that day came, Spencer didn’t know what he’d do. Losing Jamie wasn’t something he was ready to face. Not now. Not ever.