Chapter 2
TWO
Nick handed his and Raina’s babies off to his mum and his sister with profoundly mixed feelings. It was good for the kids to spend time with their granny and Auntie Joann. His family had been nothing but supportive ever since Jordan was born, especially after Raina died.
Admittedly, his mum didn’t love the Hawthorne family as much as he did. She was far more traditional in her outlook and had described the Hawthornes as “a bunch of nonconformists” to him in conversation more than once. The fact that she couldn’t come up with anything more descriptive to express the way she felt always made Nick laugh. He had no idea how he ended up as a dedicated artist coming from a family like his.
Which was part of the reason he felt vaguely uneasy as he waved after his mum’s car as it drove away, then turned and walked around the house and down the hill to his forge. The kids were too young to grasp the differences in the environment they were off to as opposed to home, but it worried him all the same.
He breathed out heavily as he neared the forge, his breath puffing around him icily. Nothing could be done about his mum’s or Joann’s ways, just like nothing could be done to bring Raina back from wherever people went next.
His love for Raina was definitely still there as he reached the forge and set to work building up the fires that had been banked through the night. Raina had come into his life like a happy bolt of lightning that had pulled his sometimes laser-like focus away from studying metalwork. She’d arrived suddenly, changing everything, and eighteen months ago, she’d left suddenly, changing everything once again.
He tried not to think about it as he fed coal into the old forge that was built in the seventeen hundreds, and once that fire was going, he moved to add coke to the specially built firepot of the new forge off to one side of the forge space. The old forge was a miracle in the way it had lasted through centuries of nearly continuous use and still did its job, but the more modern forge was faster to heat and more reliable for his students to learn with.
He used the old forge to craft horseshoes and hinges using historic methods, one of his specialties, but when it came to constructing his larger works of art, like the half-finished unicorn sculpture that was starting to tower over the west corner of the forge, the modern forge and the various blowtorches lined up near the fuel tanks were much handier.
As soon as the forges were heating, he moved to stand in front of the unicorn. It should have been done months ago. The competition Hawthorne House was hosting in May had felt like it was ages away when he’d started his tribute to Raina, but May was starting to feel like it was right around the corner now, despite the January cold.
He crossed his arms and blew out a tense breath as he studied the work he still needed to do. The basic structure was all there. The body, legs, and supports of the rearing unicorn had been relatively quick and easy to make. He was taking a bit more time with the head, which he’d yet to attach, since it needed more detailed work. There was just so much work still ahead of him.
He huffed a laugh and shook his head at himself before moving to the bench where the unicorn head waited for him. That was the story of his life, really. He’d thought things had been hard as a hulking, ungainly art student coming from a family that believed art was just something to fill an empty space on a wall. Doing something other than what his family expected of him had seemed brave and daunting when he was a teen. He’d had no idea what was in store for him as a single father trying to hold down a teaching job and still be an artist.
As he donned his protective leather apron and safety goggles, then fired up the small blowtorch he would use to affix more strands of hair to the unicorn’s mane, he fought off a punch of guilt. Being the best father he could be was his number one priority in life. Paying back the Hawthorne family for their kindness in keeping him and the kids on by being a top-notch forging teacher was number two. Working on his own art and feeding his soul was an increasingly distant third.
Mourning Raina, who had made so many things possible, was barely fourth. It ate him up inside. He’d loved Raina so much, but life went on. He wasn’t half as wrecked about her death as Rhys, Raina’s brother and his good friend was, and he’d been the one married to her. What kind of person did that make him?
“That looks like intricate work,” Baxter’s voice startled Nick just as he’d pointed the blowtorch’s tight flame at the unicorn head. “Oh, sorry,” Bax apologized as Nick flinched and stepped back.
Nick cut the flame and lowered the blowtorch as he turned to the canvas-covered entrance to the forge. Bax had just let himself in. He held two steel travel mugs, presumably with tea, so Nick was ready to forgive him for anything.
“Thanks for your help earlier,” he said, shifting his goggles up to his forehead and removing his thick gloves before walking over to take the mug Bax offered him. “Some mornings, the kids can be a handful.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Bax said, laughing softly.
Their hands brushed as Nick took a mug, Bax’s fingers were half frozen while his were already hot from the fire of his work. All of Bax looked cold, especially when he hunkered down into the too-thin coat he wore as he sipped from his own mug. It made Nick want to wrap the smaller, more sophisticated man in his arms to warm him up.
He frowned at the urge and pushed it aside as he sipped at the tea offering. Just the right amount of sugar, milk, and tea touched his tongue and warmed his soul, and he hummed in appreciation.
Bax smiled at his indulgent reaction. “I thought you’d like that,” he said.
“Tea?” Nick blinked. “I always like tea.”
“Did you manage to have a cup this morning, what with all the toddler chaos?”
Nick winced slightly. “No, there wasn’t time.”
Bax hummed and nodded. “I thought so.”
Nick took another drink, feeling suddenly awkward, like he should be doing something to impress Bax, which was silly. “Is that why you came down here?” he asked, hiding his rush of nervous energy by moving to the bench next to the new forge and setting his mug beside the unicorn head.
“Partially,” Bax said, helping himself to a seat on one of the stools where Nick’s students sat while he was giving demonstrations. Already, it looked like the growing heat of the forge was thawing him. “I’m also hiding from the film crew that’s crawling all over the estate grounds.”
Nick laughed. “Yeah, I think they’re actually filming today. They were waiting for a good frost, and it looks like they got it.”
For the last six months, Hawthorne House had been earning extra money to keep it in the black by hiring out the grounds to Silver Productions for filming. The house had been too modernized to use for period dramas, but the extensive grounds had multiple vistas that were ideal for filming outdoor scenes.
Currently, something about knights and royals was being filmed on the grounds. It had been bizarre to stumble across people dressed in medieval clothes as he’d tried to go about his business. The part of the grounds where the forge was located was also used for Hawthorne House’s summer Renaissance Faires, and since a fair amount of care had been put into making all the outbuildings look authentic, they were perfect for the background of what the film crew was working on.
The distant background, since Nick’s forging classes needed to continue, whether there was a film production knocking around or not.
“Is that the unicorn I’ve heard so much about?” Bax asked, settling more comfortably on his stool and nodding at the half-finished sculpture.
Nick turned to glance at it for a moment, anxiety pinching his gut. “Yeah,” he said, taking up his place in front of the unicorn head again and putting his gloves back on. “I’m way behind where I need to be if I’m going to enter it in the competition this May.”
“It looks like you’ve done a lot of work so far,” Bax said with a smile. “It’s huge.”
Nick grunted, which felt like too rude an answer for someone as lovely as Bax. “I’ve got the basics down the way I want them, but the devil is in the details.”
“So I’ve heard,” Bax laughed.
Nick positioned his goggles again, turned on the blowtorch, and picked up the pieces that he’d been about to fuse before Bax had interrupted.
Not that he minded the interruption, or Bax’s continued efforts at conversation. Bax made him happy for reasons he didn’t quite understand.
“The unicorn is a powerfully spiritual animal,” Bax said between sips of tea as Nick worked. “It’s been celebrated since ancient times for its power and purity.”
“Oh?” As much as Nick needed to concentrate on his work, he loved the sound of Bax’s voice and wanted him to keep talking. That didn’t make a lot of sense to him, but he’d never been one to question or delve too deeply into his gut feelings about things.
And he had a lot of gut feelings about Baxter Hawthorne. Gut feelings that confused him.
“Yes,” Bax said. “Unicorns are also renowned for their healing powers. They say if you come across one in the forest, you’ll be blessed with wisdom, health, and good fortune.”
“If you come across a unicorn in the forest?” Nick asked, sending Bax a quick grin.
“What, you’ve never encountered a unicorn in the forests around Hawthorne House?” Bax asked, acting surprised.
“No,” Nick said, chuckling.
“Pity,” Bax said with a shrug. “They’re quite beautiful.”
Nick peeked up at Bax, trying not to laugh. It wasn’t the first time Bax had teased him like that. He’d been cheeky back in the fall, around the time of Raina’s memorial fundraiser.
Remembering that, Nick asked, “Did you learn that while being pagan?”
It was a clumsy question, but ever since Bax had told him that he practiced that old, old religion, Nick had been curious.
“I’ve learned a lot of things while being pagan,” Bax said, taking another sip of his tea, then setting the mug down on the stool beside him. “Mostly, I’ve learned a lot about nature, the cycles of the seasons, and the fact that modern people are far too caught up in transient, material things for their own good.”
Nick grunted as he focused on the metal and sparks in front of him. “I agree with that.”
“It’s what drew me to the older spiritual traditions when I was a teen,” Bax went on. “I’ve always been a nature boy. And Paganism is sexy.”
Nick’s face heated. He glanced at Bax again as he turned off the blowtorch, then deliberately didn’t look at him while making certain the strand of mane he’d attached was where he wanted it to be.
He wasn’t entirely certain why Bax mentioning sex had him so flustered. He wasn’t sexually attracted to men. At least, he hadn’t been in the past. He hadn’t really been sexually attracted to anyone until Raina came along. He’d always thought he was too big and lumbering for anyone to be attracted to, and he’d been much too shy to make a move on the few people he’d fancied in his school days.
“Actually, I guess you could argue that my entire adult life so far has been very, well, adult,” Bax went on, crossing his arms and staring at the old forge in thought. “I mean, I think Paganism is a brilliant religion for children to be raised in, if children need to be raised in a religion at all. It teaches respect for our planet and acceptance of everyone and their differences.”
Nick glanced up again for a moment before reaching for the blowtorch to attach another bit of mane. He liked the idea of his kids being raised to respect the sort of things that really mattered instead of worshiping money, like so many people these days did.
“But unlike so many of the newer organized religions,” Bax went on, “the old ways embrace sexuality and the powerful magic of intimacy rather than calling it a sin.”
Nick nodded, but kept his eyes glued to his work. Maybe that was why he’d never been particularly interested in going out with girls along with the rest of his art school classmates. He enjoyed everyone’s company as they laughed and swapped stories at pubs or clubs, but when it came to pairing off for the night or even taking someone home, he’d always been disappointed. And disappointing.
“Granted,” Bax went on, holding up one hand, “a lot of the hype about pagans having ritual sex on pentagram altars and orgies to celebrate whatever holiday people think it is that requires orgies is greatly exaggerated.”
“You’ve never had an orgy?” Nick asked, peeking up.
“I didn’t say that,” Bax answered with a sly wink.
Nick heated even more. He was certain Bax was just teasing him again.
At least, he thought Bax was just teasing him.
Fuck. What if Bax wasn’t just teasing? What if he actually had participated in an orgy before? Had he been the one having sex with multiple women—no, wait, Bax was gay—with multiple men? Had he been the top or the bottom?
Nick doused those thoughts as soon as Bax laughed.
“That got your imagination going,” Bax said, grinning widely.
“I didn’t think I had that much of an imagination,” Nick said what plenty of other people would have said to him after a comment like that.
Bax sat a bit straighter, his eyes widening. “Of course you have an imagination,” he said, then nodded to the unicorn body. “You’re an amazing artist.”
“Hardly,” Nick said, finishing with the piece of mane in front of him, then setting the blowtorch aside so he could refine it. “I’m a great, hulking oaf who likes to bang things is all.”
“Just my type, then,” Bax said, his expressive mouth pulling into a wicked smirk.
A shiver of embarrassment shot through Nick, nearly buckling his knees. At least, he thought it was embarrassment. There was something about Baxter that radiated sexuality so strongly that it affected even him.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, keeping his face half turned away so Bax wouldn’t see how flustered he was.
“I know, I know,” Bax continued to laugh, holding up his hands as if in a sign of peace. “I shouldn’t joke about these things.”
“I don’t always get jokes,” Nick admitted.
“Practice makes perfect,” Bax said. He looked so happy and at ease sitting there, saying inappropriate things without a care. “And for the record, it doesn’t matter what you look like or how you present yourself, you create things of amazing beauty. You’re an artist. And you’re apparently a fabulous forgery teacher as well.”
“Forging,” Nick corrected him. “Forgery is making fake things.”
“And nothing you’ve made is fake,” Bax finished his thought easily. He paused for a moment, studying Nick with an uncomfortably intense gaze before going on to say, “Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not an artist. I know artists. I’m one of the few Hawthornes who isn’t an artist, but I know them when I see them. You’ve got talent.”
“Thanks,” Nick said, managing a smile. “I love metalwork, but I haven’t been able to do as much as I’d like lately.”
“Why’s that?” Bax asked.
Nick shrugged as he prepared to work with the third piece of mane. “Because I love my children more. If I had to choose, and sometimes it feels like I have to, I’d choose to be the best father I can be.”
“That’s admirable and sweet,” Bax said, tilting his head a little to one side as he smiled at Nick. “I don’t see myself having kids ever, but I absolutely appreciate the desire to be a good father.”
“Don’t pagans have kids?” Nick asked, then immediately felt it was a stupid question.
“A lot of them do,” Bax said. “A few in my old coven had kids.”
“Your old coven?” Nick asked.
He was asking about the term “coven”, but Bax took the question a different way. “I had to leave when I broke up with Damien,” he explained, looking sad. “Damien was the high priest, and after we split, it was just too uncomfortable to stay.”
Nick gave Bax more than a cursory glance. He really did look sad about losing his group of people. Nick had no idea what it meant or if it was an ordinary thing or a significant thing for someone who practiced that faith, but he immediately wished he could do something about it.
“How do you find a new coven?” he asked.
Bax took a breath to answer, but before he could say anything, the canvas flap serving as a door brushed suddenly aside, and Nally Hawthorne stepped into the forge.
“Right. There you two are,” he said, breathless and full of energy. “Dad wants both of you up at the house right away.”
“What?” Bax asked, standing and facing Nally. “Where’s the fire?”
Nally laughed humorlessly. “He wants the film crew out of here as soon as possible, but the director is complaining that he needs more extras so they can get the scene done. He wanted to call some company that provides extras, which would have meant they’d be here an extra day or two, but Dad said he’d provide all the extras they need.”
“Which means us,” Bax said.
“I’ve got a class in an hour,” Nick said.
Nally shook his head. “Not today you don’t. Dad is canceling all classes and shoving all students and teachers into medieval clothes for the filming. That includes the two of you.”
Nick sighed and set his tools down. He removed his gloves and pulled off his goggles with heavy hands. He desperately needed to work on the unicorn, but he owed so much to Robert Hawthorne that if Robert said jump, Nick would jump.
“How long do you think this will take?” he asked as he untied his apron and stepped away from his workbench.
“All day, I’m afraid,” Nally said. “I’ve got to go break the news to Robbie and Toby. I’ll see you later.”
Nally ducked back out into the cold, leaving Nick and Bax alone again. Nick started tidying things up and locking down anything that could cause a fire or other accident within the forge. Bax rushed to help.
“This could be interesting,” Bax said, smiling as he reached for the same tool Nick was reaching for.
Their hands brushed, and for a moment, Nick felt the urge to hug Bax and keep him warm again.
“Yeah, interesting is one word for it,” he said.
His heart continued to race even after he and Bax moved apart. Something was going on, but at the moment it felt more scary than interesting.