Page 85 of Unfinished Noise

“Hope so,” Spencer muttered.

They were halfway past a row of trailers when someone called out, “Spencer? Spencer Wallace?”

Spencer turned as a young guy jogged over—brown hair, sunburned cheeks, a smile that came in too fast. It took a second, then his memory clicked.

“Martin,” Spencer said. “Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you anywhere,” Martin said, stopping close enough that Spencer had to shift his weight. “Last time I saw you, you were talking about going solo. Guess that didn’t stick.”

His gaze skimmed right past Jamie as if he were part of the scenery, then landed back on Spencer with a familiarity that didn’t belong here.

Spencer kept his tone even. “Things change.”

Martin stepped in a little closer. “Still playing that old Guild? You used to swear you’d ditch it once you ‘found your sound.’” He said it with a grin that suggested he remembered more than Spencer wanted him to.

Jamie didn’t move, but the surrounding air tightened. Spencer didn’t need to look to know Jamie’s jaw had gone still.

Spencer lifted his hand, letting the ring catch the light. “This is Jamie. My husband.”

Martin’s smile faltered for a moment, a mere twitch of his lips, before it resumed its usual placid expression. “Husband? Wow. Didn’t know you were the settling‑down type.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but he stayed quiet.

Martin reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “If you ever want studio time… or if you’re thinking about doing something on your own again… call me.” He held the card out as if it were an invitation to something Spencer had already walked away from.

Spencer took it because refusing would make a scene. “Appreciate it.”

Martin finally acknowledged Jamie with a nod that was more polite than sincere. “Nice meeting you.” He headed toward the tents, not looking back.

Spencer waited until Martin disappeared behind a merch booth, then dropped the card into the nearest trash bin without breaking stride.

Jamie’s mouth curved into a slow, satisfied smile. “Subtle.”

Spencer bumped his shoulder lightly. “Didn’t feel like keeping souvenirs.”

Jamie squeezed his hand. “Good.”

They kept walking, the noise of the festival rising around them, but Spencer felt lighter now—like someone had loosened a knot inside him. Jamie’s fingers brushed his, steady and sure, and the tension that had been clinging to Spencer’s shoulders finally let go.

Back in the trailer, Spencer paced while Jamie sat on the little couch, tuning Spencer’s backup guitar even though he didn’t need it. Jamie always kept his hands busy when Spencer’s nerves were loud.

Spencer pulled on his stage shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons. “I swear my hands weren’t shaking ten minutes ago.”

Jamie stood and fixed the last button on him. “You’re fine. You’re just wound up.” He smoothed the fabric over Spencer’s chest. “You’re ready.”

Spencer let out a breath. “I hope so.”

“You are.” Jamie kissed his cheek, soft and grounding. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Spencer

They stepped out into the evening air. The concert grounds were buzzing with lights strung overhead, crowds already pushing toward the main stage, the smell of dust and fried food mixing with the hum of amps warming up. Alfie jogged ahead of them, waving.

“I’m sitting up front with Jamie!” Alfie called. “Don’t suck!”

Spencer snorted. “Thanks for the support.”