He turned on his heel, heart pounding faster than it had on the merry-go-round, and started down the path toward the bathrooms—cold air biting his cheeks, worry sitting heavy in his chest.He scanned the crowd, the lights blurring past—couples laughing, kids dragging sleds, the smell of cocoa and snow heavy in the air.
He checked the restrooms first. Empty. Then he wove through the food stands, calling Jamie’s name under his breath, his voice snagging on the edge of panic. Every second that passed felt like another step back from the fragile trust they’d built.
Then he stopped. The memory came sharp and clear—Jamie loved trains. And the miniature track looped around on the other side of the park.
Spencer started running. His boots crunched through the snow, breath steamed in the cold, and his heart hammered in his throat. What if Jamie didn’t want to see him? What if he couldn’t come back from this?
When he finally reached the far end of the fairground, he saw him. Jamie sat on a bench near the glowing model train display, lights flickering gold across his face. His expression was distant, eyes tracking the slow turn of the little engine as if it carried his thoughts away.
Spencer slowed down, not wanting to startle him. He approached quietly, then sat beside him. For a long moment, neither spoke. The train whistled softly as it passed, the soundsmall but steady. Spencer reached out and took Jamie’s hand, cold and still against his palm.
“I didn’t submit your application,” he said, voice low but certain. “But we need to talk about who did. I just don’t think this is the place.”
Jamie’s eyes turned toward him, searching, hurt lingering there like frost. “Then you knew?” he asked, voice trembling just a little.
Spencer nodded. “Yeah. I knew. Trust me, okay? Let’s go to the cabin. I’ll explain everything.”
Jamie hesitated, then gave a small nod. It wasn’t full trust—but it was something. And right now, Spencer would take anything over nothing.
They walked back together, the silence between them fragile but unbroken. When they reached the table, Alfie jumped up, guilt written all over his face.
“I’m sorry,” Alfie blurted. “I told you something I wasn’t supposed to say.”
Jamie shook his head. “You were being a friend. I’m not mad at you.”
Spencer glanced at Nathan, then back at Jamie. “I want to take him to the cabin,” he whispered. “We need to talk—just us.”
Nathan gave a small nod, understanding passing between them.
The four of them gathered their things, the fair’s lights fading behind as they walked toward the quiet, snow-covered road leading to the parking lot. The laughter and music of the park grew distant, replaced by the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots—and the weight of everything that needed to be said. They piled into Nathan’s car, and he dropped them off at Spencer’s truck.
Spencer held the door open and waited for Jamie to step inside when they reached the cabin. The quiet that followedfelt too heavy, too fragile, like one wrong word might make it all crash down. They both removed their boots and jackets in silence, the soft thud of leather hitting the floor the only sound between them. Spencer gestured toward the couch.
“Sit here while I make a fire. Would you like something to drink?” His voice came out steadier than he felt. Inside, his stomach twisted tight.
Jamie’s eyes didn’t lift. “Beer.”
Spencer nodded and busied himself with the wood, layering the logs like muscle memory, grateful for something to do with his hands. The crack of the match, the flare of light—it was something alive, something that didn’t judge. When the flames caught, he stood there for a moment, letting the heat touch his face before turning toward the kitchen.
He grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge, the cold biting at his fingers, then returned and handed one to Jamie. He sat across from him, not too close yet. “I found out this afternoon about the application,” he whispered. “And to be honest, I didn’t know what to do about it.”
Jamie’s head snapped up. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? If you didn’t do it, then who did?” His eyes were bright with anger—hotter than the fire, sharper than Spencer had ever seen them.
Spencer took a slow breath. “I didn’t want to upset you,” he admitted. His voice cracked just enough that it embarrassed him. “First, let’s clear something up. Whatever you and I started—it isn’t smoke to me. You’re special, Jamie. You matter to me. There’s no way in hell I’d send in an application and put you on display like that.”
Jamie’s lips trembled, and the anger in his face folded into something softer—hurt, betrayed, small. “I really thought you liked me. I trusted you, but now I’m not sure.” His tears came fast, sliding down his cheeks before he could wipe them away.
Spencer’s chest ached. He crossed the room, sat beside him, and gently pulled Jamie onto his lap. The move felt instinctive—protective—but even as he wrapped an arm around him, he could feel Jamie shaking, rigid with pain. “I want us to be honest with each other,” Spencer whispered. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Then tell me,” Jamie said, his voice muffled against Spencer’s shirt. “Why is it so hard to tell me who sent my application without telling me?”
Spencer’s throat burned. The truth tasted bitter—like he was betraying one person to save another. “Nathan told me Tom submitted his application—and yours—in November.”
Jamie froze, then slowly lifted his head. “What? He knew he was going to dump me? In November?” His voice broke apart on the word. Tears poured freely now, and all Spencer could do was hold him tighter, rocking him gently as though that might fix what had been broken long before tonight.
He pressed his cheek against Jamie’s hair and closed his eyes. “I’m so damn sorry,” he whispered. “You didn’t deserve that. You never did.”
And as the fire snapped and hissed in front of them, Spencer realized how hard it really was—to tell the truth, to break someone’s heart just to keep it honest, to be the one left holding all the pieces.
