Chapter Twenty-Seven
Archie
Blue Star was already humming when Archie stepped in, the smell of coffee and baked cinnamon clinging to the air like it belonged there. Andrew had the day off, so it was just him and Joe manning the floor. Joe had already brewed the second pot and was elbow-deep in dishes.
Archie tossed on his apron, tied it loosely at the back, and grabbed the order pad.
Joe gave him a nod. “All yours. Watch out, though. Evelyn’s in a mood. Something about her neighbor’s rooster.”
Great.
Archie walked over, doing his best to paste on a smile. “Morning, Evelyn.”
She peered up at him through those thick glasses that always made her look like she was squinting at a riddle.
“Oh, there you are,” she said, drawing out the words like a scolding aunt.
“I was starting to think you’d packed up and run off with that crazy Irishman.
” The gray-haired woman’s nose crinkled as if a putrid smell, like rotting meat, filled her senses.
Archie’s smile faltered.
“Just in case you haven’t noticed, pretty Gabriella has eyes for you.”
“I don’t know about that.” Archie hated when people pushed him toward females. He tried to ignore the unsettling awareness that someone was watching him; it wasn’t her problem. None of her fucking business.
“You’re still living with him, aren’t you?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “That Brogan Finnegan. Everyone in town’s talking about it. Said he got arrested—he’s homosexual, you know. It’s not anything you want to be associated with.”
Archie set down the water glass a little harder than he meant to.
“I mean, it’s not my place,” she continued, leaning in like she was passing along something holy, “but you’re too handsome to get mixed up in all nasty stuff.
Someone might think you’re gay too. He was seeing another Irish guy, wasn’t he?
Now they say Principal Jackson’s gonna fire him and send him straight back to Ireland. ”
“Evelyn,” Archie said, his voice tight, “can I get you coffee?”
She blinked like she hadn’t even noticed the impact of what she’d just said. “Oh, yes, cream, no sugar.”
Archie turned, walked straight to the back, and didn’t stop moving until he hit the kitchen.
Joe looked up. “That bad?”
Archie nodded. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
Joe’s face softened immediately. “Go. I got this.”
Archie didn’t argue. He peeled off his apron, grabbed his helmet, and headed out. The second the engine of his bike kicked to life, he felt a flicker of relief. He hit the road, weaving through the hills that ringed Foggy Basin, the wind shoving the noise out of his head.
But Evelyn’s words still clung to him, digging in.
What if some of it was true?
He hated that part—hated how fast his mind latched onto the worst-case version of things. The motel, the arrest, the rumors. It was exhausting trying to separate what Brogan actually said from what people wanted to believe.
The hills blurred past in flashes of green and dust. He slowed near a ridge, pulled off onto a shoulder that overlooked the basin below. The air was clean up here. Quiet.
He stared at the town—tiny, polite, and full of whispers.
Part of him missed San Francisco fiercely in that moment. The rush, the anonymity, the way no one cared who you were sleeping next to. Maybe he should go back. Maybe it would hurt less to start over than to keep wondering if he was about to watch everything fall apart.
But then he thought about Brogan’s arms around him that morning. The way he moved when he was deep in thought. The way he looked at Archie, like he actually saw him. Without Brogan, he didn’t matter.
He wanted to believe in that more than he wanted to run. But the truth was, Foggy Basin was starting to feel colder than it looked.
Being with Brogan was the best thing that happened to him.
Why was he so raw and needy? The truth was Brogan could make or break him.
He needed him. He wanted him. And he trusted him.
It didn’t matter what Evelyn had said. He had to rest in his trust. His thoughts turned to Jade.
It didn’t matter if he left or not, Brogan didn’t want him.
He wanted Archie. He wasn’t going to run from love.
Tears rolled down his cheeks when he felt the love he had always searched for and never received.
The thought of loving Brogan back filled him with a joy so profound it made him weak in the knees.
The sound of his phone interrupted his thoughts.
Archie sat cross-legged on the packed dirt trail, just off the tree line where the sun filtered through in lazy streaks.
His helmet was propped beside him, and his fingers absently drew lines in the dust as the engine heat from his bike ticked into silence nearby.
His phone buzzed again in his pocket.
For a second, he almost didn’t look. Then he saw the name when he pulled it from his pocket.
Brogan.
He hesitated, then picked up.
“Hey,” Brogan said, voice low and scratchy with concern. “Joe called. Said you bailed on work. You alright?”
Archie leaned back against a tree trunk, closing his eyes. “Yeah. I just…needed to get out of there.”
There was a pause. “Evelyn?”
Archie gave a humorless laugh. “She had a lot to say about you. And me. And—God, Foggy Basin in general.”
“Yeah,” Brogan muttered. “I figured something got under your skin.”
“More like into it.”
Silence passed between them, but it wasn’t empty. It felt lived in. Familiar.
“I know this town talks,” Brogan said. “But Evelyn’s a regular one-woman rumor mill with a sad sugar addiction for a diabetic. Joe told me what she said and none of that crap is true. Not the arrest, not the stuff about Ireland.”
Archie kicked at a small rock near his boot. “When everyone’s pointing and whispering, it messes with my head.”
“I get it,” Brogan said. “But I’d never lie to you. Not about that. Not about us.”
Archie didn’t speak right away. He let the quiet stretch. Then finally said, “I’m just tired of fighting shadows.”
Brogan exhaled like he’d been holding that breath since the call had started. “Come home,” he said. Not pushy—just…steady. “Or let me come to you. Just say the word.”
Archie looked around at the forest—cool and green and peaceful, sure. But it didn’t feel like shelter. It felt like somewhere to disappear. He reached for his helmet. “I’m heading back,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Brogan chuckled. “Where would I go without you?”
That pulled the corner of Archie’s mouth into a smile. “Yeah.”
“I have good news for us. I’ve been cleared. Thanks to Andrew.”
The line went quiet again, but this time it felt a little lighter.
“Excellent news. I ought to inform Evelyn before I come home.”
“Come home. I miss you.”
“Miss you too.” Archie ended the call and slid his helmet back on, fired up the bike, and let the promise of home—their version of it—pull him down the road.
When the door creaked open, Brogan looked up from the couch, one arm draped across the backrest, his phone still in his hand like he hadn’t quite believed Archie would actually come back this soon.
Archie stepped inside, helmet tucked under one arm, boots dragging a bit on the rug.
Brogan sat up. “Hey.”
Archie closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a second, eyes roaming the room like he was checking if it still felt familiar. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Joe really called me in a panic,” Brogan said. “Said you looked like you were gonna hurl all over the espresso machine.”
Archie gave a half-hearted smirk as he kicked his boots off. “Almost did. Evelyn’s mouth is a weapon.”
“Yeah, I got the bruises to prove it. She told Joe the same shit, then he told me. I was worried and so was he.” There was a moment of silence. “I hate it got to you like that,” Brogan added. “She doesn’t know me. Doesn’t know us.”
“I know,” Archie said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not just what she said. It’s how easy I let it get inside my head.”
Brogan stood, crossing the space between them slowly. “That doesn’t make you weak. Just means you care.”
Archie looked up at him then, eyes a little glassy around the edges. “I’ve been wondering if I even made the right call coming here. If I’m in over my head.”
Brogan’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to joke—but didn’t. “I get it. But you didn’t run. You came back. That counts for something.”
Archie didn’t answer right away. Then he stepped in and rested his forehead against Brogan’s shoulder. Just like that.
Brogan exhaled, wrapping his arms around him in that quiet way he always did—solid, steady, there.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Archie mumbled.
“Good,” Brogan said.
That got a small laugh.
They stood there in the soft quiet for a minute longer, the worst of the day finally feeling like it had passed.