Page 4 of Forged

“It’s my art, Mum,” Nick explained. “And I’ll be entering it in a competition that Hawthorne House is hosting in May.”

Mrs. Turner hummed dubiously.

Bax watched them until they reached the stairs and turned the corner to descend. As far as first impressions went, the jury was still out. He didn’t dislike Mrs. Turner, but he had the feeling she didn’t like the Hawthornes. That counted as a mark against her, as far as Bax was concerned.

It shouldn’t have mattered to him what some matronly woman thought about his family, but it did. As Bax gathered up the things he’d left in the hall and entered his flat to begin the process of sorting his life out, he felt like it mattered a lot. He wanted Nick’s mum to like the family, to like him. Because whether he had a snowball’s chance in Hades or not, he LikedNick Turner. He liked him far more than he should. So much that he just might try to do something about it.

TWO

Nick handedhis 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 hismum’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 moretime 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 lethimself 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 theforge was thawing him. “I’m also hiding from the film crew that’s crawling all over the estate grounds.”

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