Page 39 of Unfinished Noise

Nathan stepped closer. “Spencer…”

“They’re not home,” Spencer said, voice hollow. “They’re not at your place. They’re nowhere.”

Billy sank into the armchair. “Where would they go? They don’t have money. They don’t have a car.”

“They had bus tickets,” Spencer said numbly. “But that only gets them so far.”

Nathan rubbed his face. “Maybe they’re still traveling. Maybe they stopped somewhere.”

Spencer shook his head. “Jamie wouldn’t do that. He hates being lost. He hates—” His voice broke. “He hates disappointing me.”

The room went quiet.

Farlan finally spoke, voice steady. “If they’re not at home, then why go home?”

Spencer looked up at him, eyes burning. “Because it’s the only place I know to look.”

“But if they’re not there,” Farlan said, “you’ll be sitting in an empty house waiting.”

Nathan nodded. “He’s right. We don’t know where they are yet. Going home won’t change that.”

Spencer hated they were right. Hated it with every part of him. He wanted to move, to do something, to get in a car and drive until he found Jamie standing somewhere scared and small and needing him.

But he had nowhere to drive to.

Nathan exhaled. “We leave tomorrow at noon. If they call, we’ll know. If Tom finds anything, we’ll know.”

Spencer swallowed hard. “Tomorrow at noon,” he repeated, like saying it out loud might make it real.

Billy nodded. “They’ll call. Jamie wouldn’t leave you hanging forever.”

Spencer didn’t answer. He stared at the note on the carpet—Jamie’s handwriting, the little hearts, the apology he never should’ve felt he had to make. He whispered, barely audible, “Please call me, baby.”

Spencer lay on the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling; the room was too quiet, too still. His phone sat on his chest like a weight, screen dark, and no messages. Every few minutes he tapped it, hoping the vibration wasn’t his nerves firing off.

It was always nothing.

Nathan sat in the armchair across the room, elbows on his knees, looking like he’d aged ten years in one night. He hadn’t gone back to his own room. He’d just… stayed. And Spencer didn’t have the energy to tell him to leave.

Nathan rubbed his face. “I shouldn’t have yelled at Alfie.”

Spencer turned his head, eyes heavy. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

Nathan winced. “Thanks.”

Spencer didn’t soften. Not yet. His chest was too tight, his heart too raw. “You were rotten to him, Nate. He’s a little. He’s sensitive. And he looks up to you.”

Nathan swallowed hard. “I know.”

“Do you?” Spencer pushed, voice low but sharp. “Because Alfie’s important to Jamie. Really important. And when you hurt Alfie, Jamie feels it twice as hard.”

Nathan looked down at his hands. “I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did,” Spencer said. “And now they’re gone. And Jamie thinks he’s in the way. And Alfie thinks you don’t want him around.”

Nathan’s shoulders slumped. “Spence… I feel sick about it.”

“Good,” Spencer said, even though the word tasted bitter. “You better apologize. And not some half-assed ‘sorry you got upset.’ You need to make it right.”