Chapter Three
Brogan
Brogan was curled up on the couch next to Archie, the glow of the Christmas tree casting soft shadows across the room.
The ornaments shimmered in the low light, and for once, everything felt still.
Peaceful. Molly and Pasha were lying in front of the warm fireplace, the fire crackling. Then the doorbell rang.
Archie got up first, and Brogan followed. Standing on the porch were Andrew and Rafael, bundled up and grinning, holding two large pizzas and a twelve-pack of beer like they were delivering salvation.
“We brought reinforcements,” Andrew said, lifting the boxes.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Rafael added with a wink.
They settled into the living room, paper plates balanced on their knees, and beer cans sweating on the coffee table.
Rafael kept admiring the tree, pointing out the ornaments and the way the lights twinkled just right.
Brogan liked him more than he expected to—quiet, observant, kind.
He had said little before around them, but tonight he felt present and he wasn’t giving either a ticket.
After a few bites, Andrew cleared his throat. “I wanted to come by and talk about Christmas Day,” he said. “I know my dad told you that you’re not invited after I had invited you.”
Archie turned serious, but he didn’t say anything.
Andrew continued, “I didn’t know he was going to do that. I’m sorry. I’m going to talk to my mom, see if she can fix it.”
“If she can’t,” Rafael said, setting down his beer, “we’re not going either
Brogan blinked. That caught him off guard. Rafael had always been polite, but he hadn’t expected him to take such a clear stand or even join in their conversations.
“You’d skip Christmas with your family?” Brogan asked.
Rafael nodded. “I will not sit at a table where Archie’s not welcome. Where you’re not welcome. That’s not family.”
Andrew sighed. “My dad’s always been like this. He barely talks to us unless it’s to criticize. I thought maybe he’d mellow out, but… apparently not.”
“What about your family Christmas, Rafael?” Brogan asked.
“They celebrate on Christmas Eve, plus we are supposed to go to midnight mass as a family. My father is just as bad as Andrew’s.”
Brogan felt a mix of anger and disbelief. “Yeah, Andrew, he sure is nasty. He told Archie his mom would roll over in her grave,” he said. “That’s not just cruel—it’s disgusting.”
Andrew looked down. “He can be a monster sometimes. I’m sorry.”
Brogan glanced at Archie, who was staring into his half-empty beer can like it held all the answers. Brogan reached over and squeezed his hand. “You don’t deserve that kind of hate,” he said. “None of us do.”
The room went quiet for a moment, with just the hum of the heater and the soft crackle of the tree lights.
Brogan felt the weight of it all—the hurt, the loyalty, the complicated mess of family, and was grateful, at least, for the people who showed up with pizza and beer and the guts to say, “We’re with you. ”
“How is your new teaching job?” Rafael asked.
“The job is great. But it doesn’t end when the bell rings. I have tons of papers to correct. Essays take forever.”
“I guess it would take a long time.”
“Do you miss working at the Blue Star Diner?” Andrew asked.
“Yes, I miss all the people. It was a fun job.”
“We want to spend time in the morning to help with the free dinners,” Brogan said. He had discussed this with Archie, and he was all for it.
“Oh wow! That’s great. We need some help wrapping presents for the kids,” Andrew said.
“When do you need us?”
“Tomorrow at six. We’ll be there,” Archie said.
Brogan left school just after noon, the halls already thinning out with the early dismissal.
He’d tossed his bag in the backseat and thought about texting Archie but didn’t.
Archie had had a full day—or so Brogan assumed—and Brogan didn’t want to bug him.
Still, he wished they could’ve ducked out together.
Half days felt like stolen time, and he didn’t want to spend them alone.
So, he ended up at Pints ‘n Pool, the local dive with sticky floors, neon beer signs, and a jukebox that only played classic rock and sad country ballads.
The place smelled of fried food and old wood, and the bartender knew how to pour a beer without asking too many questions.
James, another teacher from the science department, was already there, waving him over to a booth near the bar.
They ordered two drafts and a basket of fries, the kind that came out extra crispy and way too salty. Brogan liked James—he was sharp, funny, and didn’t take teaching too seriously, which made him easy to talk to.
“So,” James said, popping a fry into his mouth, “you know any places to hang out? Like, gay-friendly spots? Foggy Basin’s not exactly bursting with options.”
Brogan leaned back, sipping his beer. “There’s a place out of town, about forty minutes east. It’s low-key, kind of tucked away, but they’ve got live music and nobody gives you weird looks. Archie and I went a few times last year.”
James raised an eyebrow. “You and Archie, huh? That’s cool. You guys seem solid.”
Brogan smiled, but before he could answer, the door creaked open and in walked Archie—alone. Brogan blinked, surprised. Archie rarely showed up at bars unannounced, especially not this one.
Archie spotted him instantly and walked straight over, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding. He stopped beside Brogan, and Brogan stood up without thinking, wrapping his arms around him in a hug that felt like a breath of fresh air.
“Hey,” Brogan said, pulling back. “This is James—he teaches bio.”
Archie nodded, offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”
James grinned. “You too. Brogan was just telling me about an out-of-town spot. Sounds like you’ve got good taste.”
Archie slid onto the stool beside Brogan and flagged the bartender for a beer. “I had a half day too,” he said, shaking his head. “Totally forgot until I was halfway through my second class.”
Brogan laughed, still a little stunned. “You just showed up here?”
“Figured I’d find you since you weren’t home,” Archie said, nudging his shoulder. “Guess I got lucky.”
The day had started off quiet, maybe even a little lonely, but now with Archie beside him and fries on the table, it felt like it had turned into something worth remembering.
“So, James, if you’re looking for a gay guy, Rafael could hook you up with gay parties too. He used to go to them until he and Andrew got together.”
“Sounds good. I’m interested.”
Brogan added, “Archie and I can go with you to the club one night.”
“That’s great. I got to meet my sister for dinner. Nice talking to you and meeting you, Archie.”
They said their goodbyes to James, and Archie and Brogan didn’t move from where they sat side by side.
“I can’t believe you were in here with a guy,” Archie said.
“I can’t believe you showed up here.” Brogan laughed.
“I stopped at home and you weren’t there, so I checked Blue Star Diner first, and you weren’t there, so then I came here to have a beer.”
“I see. So, you stopped looking for me and came in here alone?” Brogan asked. Brogan leaned back in his chair, watching Archie’s jaw tighten.
“Yes, I guess so. But you came here with another guy,” Archie said, his tone sharper than usual.
Brogan raised a brow, amused more than annoyed. “Not really. He was already here. He saw me and waved me over to his table.” He shrugged, though inside he was already bracing for Archie’s reaction.
Archie frowned. “I don’t know what’s worse—you coming in here alone, or with him.”
Brogan smirked, unable to resist poking at him. “Archie, are you jealous?” he asked, leaning back like he had all the time in the world.
Archie hesitated, then muttered, “Not really—maybe a little.”
Brogan chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
He liked that Archie cared enough to be jealous, even if he’d never admit it outright.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d told me you were off,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows.
“Let’s do something together today before we go decorate Blue Star Diner. ”
Archie’s shoulders eased, and he gave a small smile. “Sounds good.” He was clearly trying to push down the jealousy, but Brogan could still see it flickering in his eyes.
Brogan reached for his coffee, warming his hands around the mug. He glanced out the window at the slick pavement, cars sliding a little too easily.
“Don’t race in this weather. The roads are bad,” he said, softer now. He didn’t want to nag, but he couldn’t help it—Archie’s safety mattered more than his pride. And maybe that was the problem: Archie’s jealousy made Brogan grin, but his worry for him ran deeper than he liked to admit.