Page 4 of Never Nix Up

“But you’re a nix, Hazel. You know the ways of your people, of your family?—”

“I’d rather not witness it.” My words are short to the point of curtness and I feel her surprise in the way that the water falling from the altar like a fountain pauses in its flow. It’s as if someone’s waved a magic wand and put the whole universe on pause. “No. I’d rather not witness murder, however many years ago it may have taken place.”

“Murder?” She looks confused, and I don’t know why she does that. Trisantona knows enough of our world, of humans, to know that murder is frowned upon. “But they were pledging their sacrifices to the river, for my safe return.”

She never asked them to, but she’s also not asked them to stop, as if mortal dealings are too insignificant for her to bother with. Instead she’s been meddling with nixes who want nothing to do with her. Chlo was first, and I have a suspicion that Kit will be next.

4

Finn

I’m hoping that Hazel will return after lunch, to let me know what she thinks of my Spring Equinox offerings, but I don’t see her in the lunch rush. In fact, I’ve given up hope of seeing her altogether, when the door opens towards the end of day and she slips in.

I’ve never seen her look so exhausted, though granted, I don’t usually see her after work, unless we have a Riverside Shops meeting. She doesn’t even make it all the way to her booth, just flomping into a chair, and then pulling a face when she realises that it’s not comfortable.

I serve the final few school children, buying pastries at a marked down price, and then turn the sign on the bakery door to ‘Closed’.

“I don’t know if I can talk about it,” she says, starting the conversation without being prompted for the first time since I’ve known her. “I want to, but it’s all so messy, Finn.”

Her voice is quiet, words slow, almost dream-like.

She rolls her head to look at me, and those perennially rosy cheeks are pale. “I need… I need it to all just go away.”

Exhaustion just rolls off her, and I don’t know what to do, how to make her feel better.

Only I do.

I really, really do.

But it will change our relationship, our dynamic, in irrevocable ways.

“I can help it go away, just for a little while,” I say. “But it’s… unorthodox.”

Clear blue eyes meet mine, and she emits a bitter laugh. “My whole life is unorthodox Finn. What’s the plan?”

This isn’t exactly how I planned on introducing Hazel to the fact that I’m kinky—I haven’t even managed to work myself up to asking her out on a good old-fashioned vanilla date yet—but in this moment I somehow know that it’s what she needs. Not impact play or rope, just quiet.

“Have you ever heard of sensory deprivation?” That’s nice and neutral. Nothing in there that sounds overtly sexual, especially as it doesn’t have to be, but there’s instant recognition in Hazel’s eyes that makes me flush.

“I didn’t know you were kinky.” She’s so soft and hazy that I don’t think she’s filtering her words, because she buries her face in her hands as soon as she speaks. “Fuck. I’m sorry Finn. I…fuck.”

That last ‘fuck’ is angry, and it’s so clearly turned inward, that I take her hands, and pull her to her feet. Hazel’s shorter than I am, and bigger, with lush curves that I’ve longed to touch for years, and she almost falls against me when she stands.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I say, and she sags against me in relief, and boy do I want to just take her in my arms and make the whole world float away for her. But right now I don’t think the kind of sensory deprivation I usually indulge in would be appropriate. She can’t consent to a scene, not in this state, so instead I guide her over to her booth, and gently nudge her until she sits down.

“Finn?” she asks, her lips parting softly, and Idon’tkiss her.

There are so many things that I don’t do to this beautiful woman, sitting in my shop.

Instead, I grab my phone from my bag and pace it on the table between us. “Yes, I’m kinky, but right now I think you just need a reset. So reset with me?”

She nods slowly, oh so slowly, her head looking as if it’s not really connected to the rest of her.

“Hands flat on the table in front of you and close your eyes.” There’s the slightest of hesitations before she obeys. “I’m not going to touch you, Hazel. But I want you to listen.”

And then I bring up my favourite white noise track. A box fan. The world is too loud sometimes, especially when the bakery closes and I’ve been around so many people. My brain doesn’t stop going, and my thoughts have been known to spiral. There are two things that help with that: spending time with Luci and listening to box fans. It would be unsanitary to bring my pet tortoise into the bakeryand also financially unwise, given Lucifer’s penchant for eating everything he comes acrossso box fans it is.

The moment the track starts, Hazel’s whole body twitches slightly, as if she’s trying to work out what it is she’s listening to, and then she either works it out or gives up, because her entire frame kind ofsighs. Someone’s cut her strings and for the first time nothing is holding her up. She slumps back in the booth and just sits there, her breath evening out, as I wait.

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