Page 7 of Unfinished Noise

Spencer snorted. “Obviously.”

“Controllers,” Alfie added.

“Snacks,” Nathan said.

“More snacks,” Jamie corrected.

That got a laugh out of all four of them, and for a moment, the tension eased. This part Jamie loved. The four of them together, teasing, planning, moving like a weird little family. It was only when the other two—Billy and Farlan—entered the picture that everything inside him tightened like a fist.

They saddled the horses and headed into the hills, the trail winding upward through golden grass and eucalyptus trees that rattled softly in the breeze. Jamie’s horse, a chestnut mare named Daisy, moved with a steady rhythm that loosened the knot in his chest.

The higher they climbed, the quieter the world became. Just hoofbeats, the creak of leather, the occasional shout from Nathan when his horse decided to be dramatic. Spencer rode beside Jamie, close enough that their knees brushed now and then. Each time it happened, something warm flickered through Jamie’s chest.

He loved this. He loved them. He loved Spencer most of all.

But the thought of Billy’s smirk or Farlan’s smug little half-smile crept in like a cold draft. He tried to shake it off. Tried to focus on the sunlight on the hills, the smell of sage, the way Spencer kept glancing over like he was checking Jamie’s pulse from a distance.

When they reached the ridge, the view opened to rolling hills, the city in the distance, and the ocean a faint shimmer beyond it. Jamie breathed in deep, letting the wind cool the heat on his face. Up here, he could almost believe everything would be fine.

Almost.

After the ride, they brushed down the horses, laughing when Nathan got flicked in the face by a tail. Spencer kept brushing Maple long after she was clean, as if he needed something to do with his hands. Jamie didn’t call him out on it.

They locked up the barn and headed to the truck, dust on their boots, sun on their shoulders, and the kind of hunger that only trail riding could create.

“Dinner?” Nathan asked, already climbing into his Jeep with Alfie.

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “Let’s go.”

Jamie slid into the passenger seat of the truck, watching the hills fade in the rearview mirror as they pulled away. The peace lingered, but so did the worry.

Two days.

Two days until everything changed again.

And he wasn’t sure if he was ready.

The Mexican restaurant was loud in the best way with its bright tile floors, colorful Papel picado strung across the ceiling, and the smell of grilled carne asada drifting through the air. Jamie always relaxed a little when they came here. The noise made it easier to breathe, so his thoughts couldn’t echo as loudly in his head.

They slid into their usual booth near the back, the one with the red cracked vinyl seat Spencer always complained about but never actually asked the owners to replace. A server dropped off chips and salsa before they had even ordered, and Nathan immediately stole the warmest chip from the top of the pile.

They ordered without needing menus—Jamie got his usual enchiladas verdes platter, Spencer ordered fajitas, Nathan wanted the biggest burrito on the menu, and Alfie asked for tacos he’d inevitably trade halfway through.

While they waited, Nathan pulled out his phone and opened the tour schedule. “Okay, so the first stop is Bakersfield,” he said, scrolling. “Then Fresno, Visalia, Ridgecrest, Reno, and then Black Rock City. Rocktoberfest.”

Jamie dipped a chip into the salsa, trying to keep his expression neutral. Hearing the list out loud made it feel real—too real. A whole string of cities. A whole string of shows. A whole string of chances for Billy to be… Billy.

Spencer nudged his knee under the table, a small grounding touch. Jamie didn’t look at him, but he pressed back.

“We’ll need to pack light,” Alfie said. “Hotels, buses, dressing rooms… you know the drill.”

“Xbox is coming,” Jamie said, because that part mattered. It was their comfort thing—late-night gaming, trash-talking, laughing until their stomachs hurt.

“Obviously,” Nathan said. “We’re not animals.”

Jamie smiled, the tension in his chest loosening a little.

Their food arrived, sizzling and fragrant, and conversation shifted to logistics—who was driving which leg, what gear needed tuning, how early they had to leave. Spencer mentioned practice tomorrow at their place, and a quiet wave of relief washed over him at that thought.