Chapter One
Archie
Archie was thumbing throughthe bookshelves in the local bookstore, hunting for something Brogan would love—maybe that Gaelic poetry collection he’d mentioned in passing, or an action novel. The place smelled of old paper and cinnamon from the café next door. It was peaceful until it wasn’t.
“Archie,” a voice barked behind him.
He turned, stomach already tightening. Uncle David. Andrew’s dad. And judging by the way he was marching over, this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat.
“Are you done teaching?” Uncle David asked, like he was small talk.
Archie nodded slowly. “For today, yeah.”
Uncle David didn’t waste time. “We don’t want you or Brogan at the Star Christmas dinner. If Andrew told you otherwise, he was wrong.”
Archie blinked. “He did say we were invited. But… that’s okay we have other plans.”
“It’s not personal,” Uncle David said, which was a lie. “Two gay men are more than I can handle. If your mother knew what you were up to in Foggy Basin, she’d be turning in her grave.”
The words hit like a slap. He swallowed hard, heat rising behind his eyes. “You don’t know that,” he said. “It’s really messed up for you to speak about my mother. She loved me. Nothing you say can change that.”
Uncle David didn’t flinch, but he grew louder. “Give up being gay. Give up, Brogan.”
Archie didn’t say another word. He couldn’t. His throat felt like it was closing up. He turned on his heel and marched straight out of the bookstore, the bell above the door jingling like nothing had happened.
The cold slapped his cheeks as he swung a leg over his motorcycle, the engine growling to life beneath him. He rode fast, hoping the wind would scrape off the sting of his uncle’swords, but they clung to him like frost. Saying his mom wouldn’t have loved him—God, that was low. She’d been the one person who made him feel safe, seen. And now Uncle David had twisted that into something ugly, just to justify uninviting him and Brogan from Christmas dinner. Archie’s chest ached, not just from the insult, but from the way it made him question things he’d never doubted before. He gripped the handlebars tighter; the road blurred under him, wishing he could outride the hurt. He parked his motorcycle as the rumble of the engine faded and before he charged through the front door.
Archie’s brand-new briefcase hit the floor with a thud as Brogan’s warm smile met his. Brogan’s quick kiss, a brief moment of connection, and it was enough to ground Archie. Like Brogan was saying, “You’re safe now. You’re home.” He needed that more than Brogan knew.
Archie barely had time to kick off his boots before Brogan was on him with his hands sliding under his coat, lips brushing his neck, that familiar scent of lime and pine clinging to his skin. Brogan kissed him like he’d been waiting all day, like Archie was the answer to something he hadn’t even asked.
“You’re all over me,” Archie murmured, half-laughing, half-melting.
Brogan grinned against his cheek. “I missed you.”
Archie didn’t say it out loud, but he missed Brogan too. Even after just a few hours apart. It was ridiculous and kind of perfect.
“How was your day, Mr. Star?” Brogan asked, already tugging Archie’s coat off like he couldn’t wait to get closer.
Archie let himself lean into it, into him. “Good. Busy. I think I corrected the same spelling mistake twelve times.”
Brogan laughed, guiding him toward the couch. “You’re changing lives, one letter at a time.”
The coffee table was already set with the tea steaming in mismatched mugs, apple slices, crackers, and that smoky cheese Brogan liked that Archie still wasn’t sure was edible. It was domestic and weirdly perfect. Archie sat down beside him, their knees brushing, and pulled out his stack of papers.
Brogan was watching him too closely. The focused attention made Archie feel both seen and slightly exposed. He’d barely sat down, still shrugging off the chill from outside and Uncle David’s cruel words, when Brogan leaned in closer to him.
“Tell me what happened,” he whispered.
Archie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You always know, don’t you?”
“It might have had something to do with the way your motorcycle raced into the driveway.”
Archie nodded, knowing very well speed was dangerous especially with the winter ice and snow.
Brogan just waited patiently, like he always did when Archie wasn’t sure how to say something.
“I ran into Uncle David,” Archie said finally. “Andrew’s dad. At the bookstore.”
