Page 49 of Unfinished Noise

Billy looked away first.

Farlan cleared his throat. “We’re not trying to fight. We just… wanted to check in.”

Spencer nodded once. “Appreciate it. But Jamie’s good. We’re good.”

Jamie’s hand slid into Spencer’s under the table, warm and steady. Spencer squeezed back, letting the tension drain from his shoulders.

Billy exhaled, softer this time. “Fine. Whatever. Just—don’t disappear again, okay?”

Jamie didn’t answer, but Spencer did.

“He’s not going anywhere.”

Billy’s eyes flicked to Spencer, searching for something—old history, old habits—but Spencer didn’t look away. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t soften.

He was done letting Billy’s past with him bleed into his present with Jamie.

Farlan tugged Billy gently. “Come on. Let’s grab a booth.”

Billy hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. See you later.”

They walked off together, shoulders brushing, Billy leaning into Farlan the way he used to lean into Spencer years ago. Spencer watched them go, not with jealousy.

Jamie was the one beside him now. Jamie was the one he’d chosen. Jamie was the one he’d cross the whole damn country for.

Jamie leaned into him again, voice soft. “You okay?”

Spencer kissed the top of his head. “I am now.”

Their steaks arrived, and the world settled back into something warm and safe.

Chapter Nineteen

Jamie

Back in the Fresno hotel room, the airport still lived in Jamie’s chest—each heartbeat loud and insistent, each breath stretching too wide, like his ribs hadn’t caught up yet. Spencer moved around the room with his usual pre‑show focus, pulling clothes and jewelry from neat piles, the kind of movement that always made the space feel smaller and warmer. Jamie stayed near the bed, watching him, the leftover tension in his body slowly shifting into something steadier from being in the same room again.

Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, still watching. Spencer grabbed his shirt from the hanger, then crossed the room to kiss Jamie’s forehead before going back for his jewelry. It kept happening like that—shirt, kiss; rings, kiss; boots, kiss—little interruptions that made Jamie’s stomach flip in the best way.

He didn’t say anything about it, but every time Spencer leaned in, Jamie’s chest warmed as if Spencer was checking to make sure he was still there. Still close. Still his.

Spencer paused at the shopping bag, pulling something out with a small, proud smile. “Got you something,” he said, holding up a neatly folded outfit.

Jamie blinked, then stood, reaching for it. The fabric was soft, the color familiar—too familiar. When he unfolded it, his breath caught. It matched Spencer’s. Even the stitching. Even the boots Spencer set beside it.

“You got me—this matches yours,” Jamie said, voice going a little thin with excitement he couldn’t hide.

Spencer’s smile deepened. “Yeah. Thought you’d like it.”

The surprise hit Jamie first—sharp, almost breath‑stealing. Warmth rose through his chest in a quick rush, spreading up his throat and down his arms, the kind that made his fingers twitch with the need to touch the fabric again. Seeing the colors and stitching line up with Spencer’s made the moment feel bigger, like Spencer had reached out and pulled him into the night instead of leaving him on the edges of it.

He ran his fingers over the fabric again, slower this time. “It’s perfect,” he said, and he meant it in a way that made his throat tighten.

Spencer stepped closer. Jamie leaned toward him without thinking, and his heart thudded hard against the small space where their chests brushed. The sound filled his ears, a deep, rhythmic pulse that steadied his breathing and softened the tightness in his shoulders. Warmth spread through him, settling low and heavy in his limbs, the kind of weight that made him stand still, rooted, like the floor had finally stopped tilting under him.

Spencer stepped even closer, sliding a hand along Jamie’s jaw before kissing him again—longer this time, slower, like he was savoring the reaction.

The moment Spencer’s mouth met his, something in Jamie settled. Not in a big dramatic way, but more like a click inside his chest, a weight shifting into the right place. His shoulders loosened, his breath softened, and the tight, jittery feeling he’d been carrying since the airport finally eased.