Chapter Seventeen
Archie
Archie’s boots crunched the broken tree branches along the dirt path as he hiked towards the lake.
It was a lot further than he’d thought. He must have been walking for over fifteen minutes.
When he reached his destination, he took his time, breathing in the tranquility of the moment before scooping up water in the container.
Archie sat at the edge of the lake, absently tossing pebbles into the water, watching the ripples stretch and fade.
The air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, but none of it calmed the twisting unease in his stomach.
Brogan was focused on building a fire at the other end of the woods, unaware of the storm brewing inside Archie’s head.
Jade was here. In his town. The same Jade Brogan swore was nothing more than an old friend with benefits, a mistake barely worth mentioning.
But now Archie had to sit with the knowledge Brogan had let Jade use him.
Money, flights, whatever else. Archie didn’t know the finer details, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
All he knew was Jade had flown in from Dublin, and instead of just passing through, he was here in Foggy Basin, acting like he still belonged in Brogan’s life and home.
Archie wanted to believe Brogan that Jade was just stirring up trouble, spinning stories to make himself sound like he meant more than what he had to Brogan.
But that nagging fear had wormed its way into his brain: What if Brogan wasn’t telling the whole truth?
What if their entire relationship was built on the soft edges of lies, on carefully curated omissions?
Brogan said he’d never loved Jade, never saw him as anything more than a friend.
But Jade had come all this way, claiming they were going to get married.
His father advised him to stay out of other people’s arguments.
Clear as day, he could hear his father say, “there are two sides to each story.” Despite his involvement with Brogan, what if he didn’t know the complete truth of their situation?
The thought made Archie sick.
He pushed his hair back with his hand, letting out a sharp breath to relieve his overwhelming anxiety. Brogan wasn’t a liar. He wasn’t. Right? But if he had let Jade use him—if he had kept that from Archie—what else had he buried under vague reassurances?
Archie took in the last moment of the lake’s tranquility before heading back.
Except…where was back? Suddenly, he found himself facing three paths, each disappearing into the dense undergrowth. He didn’t remember which path he’d taken. The three trails were overgrown, and the sounds of the forest had muddled his memory.
He turned in the direction he thought he’d come, but the trees all looked the same. The trail that had seemed so clear before was now just endless green. He frowned, adjusting his grip on the container. “Fuck,” he muttered.
He tried retracing his steps, but every turn led to another unfamiliar path. The clearing where Brogan had been should have been right there—fifteen minutes away. But now, with the forest stretching in every direction, Archie felt a nervous flutter in his stomach.
“Brogan?” he called out, but his voice got swallowed by the vastness of the trees. He hated this. He hated the feeling of not knowing where he was, of being stuck in unfamiliar surroundings. Unfamiliar trees loomed, their shadows deep and unsettling, as he realized he didn’t know these woods.
Closing his eyes, he took a breath. He knew Brogan.
Knew that if he didn’t show up soon, Brogan would come looking for him.
He just had to wait—Brogan would find him.
Getting lost was more than just a logistical problem—it was a psychological battle.
Archie’s emotions swirled through a range of reactions, each revealing more about his fear of abandonment.
Though no one had intentionally left him behind, he’d wandered off the path and become hopelessly lost. That was all on him.
At first, he was mildly annoyed—his confidence slipping just a little when he realized the path was not as clear as he thought.
He was used to being capable, independent.
This was just a minor setback, right? But as he turned again and again, failing to spot anything familiar, a knot of unease tightened in his chest.
Then came frustration. His breath hitched, his grip tightened on the container—seriously, a simple task like grabbing water and he screwed it up? He muttered under his breath, cursing himself, cursing the trees for looking the same.
Then he shouted it out. “Fuck you trees for looking the same. Fuck me for not paying attention. Fuck everything!”
He didn’t want to panic. He refused to panic. But with each unfamiliar step, his heartbeat picked up speed.
And then, the vulnerability hit. The realization he was alone.
The world felt bigger, the forest deeper, and Brogan…
Brogan wasn’t here. Archie had been comfortable around Brogan, more at ease in his presence than with anyone else.
And right now, he wanted that steady presence, that reassurance.
If Brogan were here, he would be calm. He’d know what to do.
Archie exhaled sharply, trying to get a grip.
He wasn’t helpless. He just had to think.
But it was in that moment that he realized how much he leaned on Brogan; not for directions, not for survival, but for the unshakable feeling of being seen, understood.
And then, hope. Because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was Brogan finding him.
He had to hold on a little longer. He pulled out his phone; the battery was dead.
He had forgotten to charge it last night.
He would wait for Brogan to find him at the lake. That made sense.
Archie sat stiffly by the lake, his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the water as if it might offer some kind of answer, the surface reflecting the sun. He felt small here adrift, swallowed by the silence pressing in from all sides.
But now, time stretched thin, and the quiet had settled too deeply into his bones. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, but unease had crept in, curling around his ribs like icy fingers.
Then the sound.
Footsteps. Not rushed, not hesitant. Just steady movement in the woods behind him. Leaves crunching, twigs snapping—a deliberate rhythm, like someone who knew exactly where they were going.
Archie sat up straighter, pulse picking up. Brogan? He twisted toward the noise, scanning the shadows beyond the trees.
The footsteps didn’t stop.
His throat felt tight. He swallowed and called out, “Brogan?”
No answer. Just the shifting of weight against the earth, moving closer.
Archie’s stomach clenched. His hands pressed into the damp ground as he fought the urge to scramble to his feet, to run, to do something other than sit there waiting.
His voice came sharper this time. “Brogan!”
Still nothing.
Just footsteps. Closer now. Deliberate.
He wasn’t alone.