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 maybehe 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.
