Page 5 of Blown

Every warning bell Jake had sounded at the same time. What did the man already know about him? What was he really saying when he said it was wonderful to meet him? If he stepped one foot out of line, would Robert Hawthorne send him packing?

“Nice to meet you, um, my lord?” he greeted the man, suddenly at a loss.

Mr. Hawthorne laughed, making Jake feel like he was in big trouble. “Call me Robert,” he said, giving Jake’s hand a squeeze before letting it go.

“Okay, Robert,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a winning smile.

“Is he here?” A middle-aged woman with short, spikey hair dyed flame red stepped out of the front office, her green eyes aglow. “Is this the American we’ve heard so much about?”

“Mum, this is Jake,” Rafe did the introductions again. “Jake, this is my mum, Janice Hawthorne.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Jake said, stepping forward to take her hand.

That wasn’t the end of it. Three more people appeared from the office, bright-eyed and eager to meet him.

Rafe sighed a little and said, “This is my sister, Rebecca, my youngest brother, Nally, short for Ronald, and this is Early, who works for us and is more or less engaged to my brother, Rhys.”

“Not engagedyet,” Early said, blushing and bashful as they stepped forward to shake Jake’s hand. “We haven’t even been dating for a year yet.”

“But you live together,” Rafe said.

“That doesn’t mean marriage is imminent,” Robert said as he stood to the side, his arm around his wife’s waist. “Or is it?” He grinned at Rafe, who blushed and avoided his look.

“I’m not holding my breath for a ring,” Early said. “They/them, in case you were wondering,” they whispered to Jake, then winked.

“Thanks,” Jake said, glad to be trusted with their pronouns.

Frankly, Early was one of the most strikingly beautiful people he’d ever met, regardless of pronouns. They had long, dark hair, soulful eyes, and just a hint of makeup, all while wearing a flattering pantsuit that would have looked cringey and out-of-date on anyone else.

“Rafe tells us you’re here to work on glass with him for a while,” Rebecca said, stepping forward to greet him, and Nally after her.

“Um, yeah,” Jake said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck once everyone was done shaking it. The gesture was an unconscious way to avoid anyone else trying to introduce themselves to him. He was already over his family limit for the day. “If Rafe doesn’t mind, I’m really hoping to get some good blowing done.”

As intended, his off-color comment was met with laughter from the family. He found glassblowing jokes to be some of the most tired, unfunny jokes around, but they broke the ice when it needed breaking and made people think he was funny, which made people like him. Being liked was the only way he knew to be safe.

“You and Rafe met while doing residencies at the Corning Museum of Glass, right?” Nally asked, leaning against the office’s front desk and gazing at Jake with wide, welcoming eyes.

“We did,” Jake answered. He took a small step back, peeking sideways at the door. It was good to know where the doors were at all times in case he needed to run. “Our residencies started around the same time. We shared a studio and worked in the gallery and school together now and then.”

Rafe colored and crossed his arms. The gesture was defensive and made Jake worry.

“I bet that was amazing,” Nally went on. “Some of the best names in glass either do residencies at the Corning Museum or teach there.”

“It’s an amazing opportunity for any artist,” Janice added. “We were so proud of Rafe when he told us he’d been accepted.”

“It’s a prestigious program,” Jake said. “They only take the best of the best.”

“Which was why you were there, of course,” Robert said.

Jake tensed, rocking to the balls of his feet like he was about to start a race. Was Robert making fun of him? It wouldn’t have been the first time a dad mocked him for blowing glass instead of doing something useful with his time. Not just his dad either. In college, when he was still trying to date girls to hide who he was, he’d had a girlfriend’s dad scoff at him for wasting his time with art when he should get a real job.

That relationship hadn’t lasted. None of his relationships lasted.

“Where are our manners,” Janice said stepping away from her husband. “You look tired, Jake. I bet you’re jetlagged. Rafe, why didn’t you show him to his flat first thing?”

“We came here to get the keys,” Rafe said tightly.

“Oh. They’re right here.” Early ducked behind the desk and handed Jake an old-fashioned key with a wooden tag that had been waiting there.

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