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.
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 hewasbetter.
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.”
