Jamie leaned in, brushing a damp curl from Spencer’s forehead. “I love you,” he said softly.
Spencer’s throat tightened. He reached for Jamie’s hand and pulled him closer. “I love you too,” he whispered.
Their lips met in a quiet kiss—gentle, lingering, full of everything words couldn’t hold. Spencer felt the ache in his chest ease, just a little. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But in that moment, with Jamie beside him, he felt something close to peace.
Two weeks later, he invited Malcolm for dinner.
Dinner felt formal, almost too polished for Spencer’s taste. The fine china was out, the silverware gleamed, and the roast smelled like something Aunt Millie would’ve approved of—though she wasn’t there. Spencer had invited Malcolm, and that alone made the whole evening feel like a gamble.
Malcolm sat at the head of the table like he owned the place, posture straight, eyes scanning the room like he was sizing it up. Spencer watched him, trying not to let old resentment bubble up. It was hard. Malcolm had always carried himself as if he were owed something, like Saddle Creek Ranch should’ve been his by birthright. But tonight wasn’t about grudges. It was about decisions.
Spencer cleared his throat. “I invited you here to make you an offer.”
Malcolm leaned back, grinning. “I’m listening.”
Spencer slid a folder across the table. “Would you like to buy into half of Saddle Creek Ranch? At a fair price.”
Malcolm blinked, then laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You hate me. I hate horses. Why me?”
Spencer shrugged, keeping his tone even. “Because you were the only family member who gave me freedom from my past.You told me the truth about my parents’ disappearance. That mattered.”
Malcolm’s grin faded. He looked down at the contract, fingers tracing the edge. “I was twelve years old when my father abandoned us. My mother and I were afraid he’d met the same fate as your parents.”
Spencer nodded slowly. “That’s true, your father never surfaced either.”
There was a pause. The kind that hung heavy in the air, like both of them were standing on the edge of something they didn’t quite know how to name.
Malcolm flipped through the contract. “I have a question.”
“Ask.”
“It says we can co-live on the ranch, but it states you’ll be living in California. How’s that supposed to work?”
Spencer leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be a silent partner. I want certain rooms reserved for when we come back for visits and business. That’s all.”
Malcolm studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”
He turned to Jamie, who’d been quiet through most of dinner, sitting beside Spencer with that calm, steady presence Spencer had come to rely on. “I’m sorry, Jamie,” Malcolm said. “I was rude to you. I’ve got a lot to learn about different lifestyles.”
Spencer glanced at Jamie, who gave a small nod, polite but cautious. Spencer felt a flicker of relief. Or just the strange sense that things were shifting. He wasn’t sure whether this deal would work, or if trusting Malcolm was a mistake. But for the first time, he was choosing his future instead of just surviving his past. And that felt like progress.
Epilogue
Six months later
Beverly Hills, California
Six months had passed, and life looked nothing like it used to for either of them.
Jamie stood barefoot on the balcony of their villa, the ocean stretching out in front of him like a living painting. The breeze was warm, salty, and soft against his skin. Daddy Spencer was inside, strumming his guitar while sipping coffee, his hair longer now, a little wild, and his ear freshly pierced—a small silver hoop that somehow made him look even more like himself.
They lived within walking distance of Nathan and Alfie, which meant spontaneous dinners, beach hangouts, and band rehearsals that sometimes turned into wine-fueled jam sessions. Daddy Spencer and Nathan had started a new band called Proud Insanity after Nathan fired Billy, who’d been more drama than talent. They brought in a new guitarist and keyboardist whoactually showed up on time and knew how to vibe. Their first gig was this weekend in Hollywood, and everyone was buzzing with excitement.
Daddy Spencer still worked with Malcolm remotely, checking in on Saddle Creek Ranch once a month. They’d fly out for the weekend, feed the horses, walk the land, and make sure Malcolm hadn’t turned the barn into a man cave. Jamie loved those visits—loved seeing Daisy, loved the quiet of Montana—but California was feeling like home.
That morning, Jamie got the email. He stared at it for a full minute before yelling Daddy Spencer’s name.
“I got in!” he shouted, waving his phone like a trophy. “UCLA nursing program!”
