Chapter Four
Archie
Archie beat Brogan home by a good fifteen minutes, the wind still clinging to his jacket like it didn’t want to let go.
He parked the motorcycle, boots crunching on the frosty porch steps, and stepped into the quiet warmth of the house.
The pine wreath they’d hung last night still smelled fresh, and the soft hum of the heater made everything feel cozy.
He grinned, tugged off his gloves, and scribbled a quick note— Find Me—before slapping it onto the fridge with their snowflake magnet.
Then he darted into the hallway closet, squeezing himself between coats and the vacuum, heart thudding with anticipation.
A few minutes later, the front door creaked open.
“Archie?” Brogan’s voice echoed through the house.
Archie held his breath, listening to the rhythm of Brogan’s footsteps, the creak of cabinet doors, the fridge opening. Then the closet knob turned.
“Boo!” Archie shouted, bursting out like a kid on Halloween.
Brogan jumped, then laughed, that warm, familiar sound that made Archie’s chest ache in the best way. “You’re ridiculous,” Brogan said, and Archie pulled him into a hug, burying his face in the crook of Brogan’s neck for a second longer than usual.
After feeding Molly and Pasha, who were more interested in kibble than chaos, they curled up on the couch, side by side, and flicked on the lights of the tree. The soft glow wrapped around them like a blanket.
“So,” Brogan said, nudging Archie’s knee, “what do you want to do?”
Archie didn’t even think. “Ice skating. On the pond.”
Brogan raised an eyebrow. “You sure? It’s freezing.”
“That’s the point,” Archie said with a grin. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
They bundled up, grabbed their skates, and walked down the snowy path, boots crunching in rhythm. The pond lay ahead, untouched and glistening under the pale afternoon light. Archie loved how quiet it was—just the two of them, no cars, no voices, just the soft hush of winter.
They sat on the old bench and laced up their skates. Archie stepped out first, a little wobbly, but he found his rhythm quickly. Brogan followed, smooth and confident, and Archie couldn’t help but admire the way he moved, like he belonged to the ice.
They skated in wide loops, chased each other in lazy circles, laughing and teasing. Eventually, they slowed down enough to hold hands, their fingers warm inside thick gloves.
“No one else is here,” Brogan said.
“Good,” Archie replied, pulling him closer. “Means I get you all to myself.”
They stopped near the center of the pond, breath fogging in the cold air. Archie leaned in and kissed him, slow and soft, the kind of kiss that made the cold vanish. Just them, wrapped in silence and snow.
“I love this,” Brogan whispered. “Just us. No noise. No judgment.”
Archie smiled, resting his forehead against Brogan’s. “Me too. You make everything feel like home.”
They skated until their toes went numb, until the sky turned dusky and the world felt like it was holding its breath. Archie didn’t want it to end.
Back home, Archie warmed up chili and melted cheese, the scent filling the kitchen. Brogan kept complaining about how cold he was, so Archie brewed hot tea and set the bowls on the table just in time.
“Perfect, Archie,” Brogan said, wrapping his hands around the mug.
“Thanks. Figured we needed to thaw out before helping at Blue Star.”
Brogan looked at him, a little sheepish. “You okay about today? Me at Pints ‘n Pool?”
“I’m over it,” Archie said, shrugging. “And I’ll always tell you when I have a half day. Actually, I’ve got a calendar. I’ll email it to you.”
Brogan’s eyes crinkled as he sipped his tea. “You’re such a charmer.”
Archie winked at him.
They cleaned up, loaded the dishwasher, and headed out in Brogan’s vehicle, the heater blasting and their fingers brushing between gear shifts.
The Blue Star Diner hadn’t changed in decades—blue vinyl booths, checkered floors, and a jukebox that only worked if you smacked it like it owed you money. Archie loved it for that. It felt like a place that remembered things, like it held stories in the walls.
They pushed through the door, the bell jingling overhead, and were hit with the smell of coffee, bacon grease, and something sweet—probably cinnamon rolls.
Andrew and Rafael were already there, half-buried in boxes of decorations.
Rafael had a string of lights tangled around his arm like a snake, and Andrew was holding a plastic reindeer upside down, looking like he’d lost a fight with it.
“About time,” Andrew called. “We thought you bailed.”
Archie grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it. Someone’s gotta supervise your decorating choices.”
Brogan hugged Rafael, then grabbed a box of ornaments. “You mean someone’s gotta stop you from putting tinsel in the coffee machine again.”
“That was one time,” Andrew said, mock offended.
They got to work—lights on windows, garlands over counters, snowflakes taped to the walls. Rafael climbed onto a stool, Brogan wrestled with tinsel that looked like it had survived three decades of bad storage, and Archie fluffed a fake wreath that smelled faintly of dust and peppermint.
A couple of regulars waved from a booth.
“Archie!” one of them called. “Good to see you, kid. We miss you around here.”
Archie smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. “Miss you too, Mrs. Callahan. You still ordering pancakes with extra butter?”
“Every damn time,” she said with a wink.
The jukebox kicked on with an old-school Elvis Christmas tune, and the four of them kept decorating, laughing and singing off-key. Rafael tried to hang mistletoe above the register, but Andrew kept swatting his hand away.
“Babe, that’s where people pay. You can’t ambush them with kisses.”
“Why not?” Rafael said, grinning. “Holiday cheer.”
Brogan leaned over to Archie, whispering, “Ten bucks says he puts it up, anyway.”
Archie chuckled. “I’m not betting against Rafael. He’s got mistletoe energy.”
By the time they finished, the diner looked like a Christmas card—twinkling lights, shiny ornaments, and a tree in the corner that leaned slightly to the left but had enough charm to make up for it.
Archie stood back, arm slung around Brogan’s waist, and took it all in.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs. And that made it feel just right.
They all slid into a booth with ice cream sodas, the kind that made Archie feel like a kid again. Gabriella walked in and came straight to their table.
“Hey, Andrew,” she said. “Your mom was at my house talking to my mother about Christmas dinner.”
“What’d she say?” Andrew asked.
“She was upset your dad told Archie and Brogan they were uninvited. So, they’re talking about having it at our place instead.”
“Interesting,” Rafael said. “Did they run that by Dad?”
“No. They might not tell him.”
The four of them exchanged a chorus of hesitant “um no” sounds.
“We’ll see,” Gabriella said. “I’ll keep you posted.”
She walked off to wait at a table, and Archie leaned into Brogan, resting his head briefly on his shoulder. Whatever happened next, they’d face it together. And that, Archie thought, was more than enough.
The bell above the door rang again; Archie’s heart dropped. Uncle David. Alone. That can’t be good. Archie got up and said, “We need to leave.”
Brogan stood up beside him, but his face was etched with a look of uncertainty. There was Uncle David walking their way. Archie walked past him like he was running away from a fire, with Brogan right behind him.
Once they were outside, Brogan said, “You okay?”
“I will be when we get home.”
Brogan opened the door for Archie and then ran to the other side. They were on their way home in silence. Archie didn’t feel like talking. It was all his fault Uncle David didn’t want him at the family Christmas dinner. He wasn’t about to be insulted again in front of everyone.
“What about if we go to that club and dance?” Brogan asked.
“Go dancing?”
“Yes, we’re both off for two weeks. We can stay out late.”
“I guess we can. Let’s go for it,” Archie said and slowly the tension he’d carried home with him eased a little.