Page 33 of Unfinished Noise

“He said he’d send me home.” Alfie’s voice cracked. “He meant it.”

Jamie swallowed hard. “Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was scared too.”

“Scared of what?”

Jamie hesitated. “Losing Billy. Losing the band. Losing control.”

Alfie sniffed again. “I didn’t mean to ruin anything.”

“I know,” Jamie said. “I know you didn’t.”

The bus hummed beneath them, rocking gently. A couple of passengers slept with their heads against the windows. Someone in the back snored. The overhead lights flickered every time they hit a bump.

Jamie pressed his forehead to the cool glass. The cold bit into his skin, sharp enough to steady the knot twisting in his chest. Highway lights streaked past in long ribbons, flashing across the window like quick pulses of silver.

Spencer filled his mind anyway.

Spencer on stage—singing, smiling, maybe glancing toward the side door like he expected Jamie to slip in. Spencer checking his phone between songs. Spencer unfolding the note Jamie had left on the hotel desk.

Anger, confusion, disappointment, or any of it could hit his daddy first. He didn’t want to hurt him. And he didn’t want Daddy Spencer thinking he’d walked away from the band, or from him.

But Alfie leaned into his side with another shaky breath, small and trembling, and Jamie tightened his arm around him.

Daddy Spencer will understand. He has to. Alfie needs him more tonight.

They reached Beverly Hills in the middle of the night, when the sky was a deep navy with only a few stars peeking through. The streets were quiet, the kind of quiet that made Jamie feel like they were sneaking home after curfew.

They took an Uber to Nathan’s house. Alfie cried the entire ride, clutching Jamie’s teddy bear like it was the only thing keeping him together.

When they stepped inside, the house echoed with emptiness, its vastness chilling his bones.

Alfie’s room looked exactly the same with his and Nathan’s clothes everywhere, posters crooked on the walls, a half-eaten bag of chips on the nightstand. Jamie helped him pack, folding shirts, stuffing hoodies into a suitcase, grabbing the stuffed animals Alfie couldn’t sleep without. Alfie hovered over Daddy Nathan’s side of the bed, holding a box of condoms in his hand, then threw it on the carpet.

Every time Alfie’s breath hitched, Jamie wrapped his arms around him.

“It’s okay,” Jamie whispered. “I’m here.”

“I don’t want to live here anymore,” Alfie sobbed. “I don’t want Daddy Nathan to yell at me.”

Jamie rubbed his back. “You’re coming with me. You’re safe.”

When they finished packing, Jamie led him outside to Alfie’s car. The night air was cool, smelling faintly of jasmine from the garden. Alfie clung to Jamie’s arm as they walked.

Jamie drove them through the familiar streets, calming him a little. When they arrived, he carried Alfie’s suitcase inside and led him to the guest room.

He turned on the lamp, made the bed, and helped unpack Alfie’s things—lining up his stuffed animals on the dresser, hanging his favorite hoodie on the chair, placing his sketchbook on the nightstand.

Alfie sat on the bed, wiping his eyes. “It feels weird.”

“I know,” Jamie said. “But it’s your room now.”

“Just until Daddy Nathan stops being mad?”

Jamie hesitated. “We’ll figure it out.”

Even though it was late, they sat outside on the patio. There was a soft breeze rustling the lemon trees. Jamie curled his legs under him on the lounge chair. Alfie sat cross‑legged on the other, hugging a pillow.

“What do you think Daddy Nathan will say?” Alfie asked.