Stubbed Toes and Dating Woes

CHAPTER 1

NICLAS

Happy birthday to me. Niclas came up out of the middle of the River Wylve, eyeing the muddy coins in his hand. He shifted his waterproof metal detector under his other arm. Well, aren’t you pretty specimens?

Oi. Professor Dirt. Swim this way. I’ve brought cake. His brother whistled sharply from the riverbank. C’mon, Nic, I’d wager you forgot lunch.

I didn’t. Niclas glowered at his older brother, Izan. I had breakfast. Who are you wagering with? It’s just you.

Ready Brek dosed with more sugar than is healthy doesn’t count as a meal. Izan grinned at him while Niclas grumbled under his breath. Stop cursing at me in ye olde English. You could just use ‘fuck.’ The world won’t end if you do.

I enjoy using old words. It’s fun. ‘Sard’ basically means ‘fuck’ anyway. Niclas collected interesting curses almost as much as he did ancient artefacts. Etymology is fascinating.

And people think you’re talking about sardines or something. Izan dodged the spray of water Niclas sent at him. Are you coming or not? I can hear your stomach grumbling from over here.

No, you can’t.

The Ruiz brothers were polar opposites in many aspects despite being almost identical in looks. They were often teased for being twins born ten years apart. Both had dark brown eyes and hair. Izan kept his close-cut, while Niclas had a shaggy, longish mane of wavy curls.

The differences only expanded from there. Niclas was a twenty-eight-year-old autistic man. His hands were scarred from years of working on archaeological digs for the British Museum, though in all honesty, he blamed his own clumsiness for most of his healed injuries. His entire life revolved around archiving treasures and hunting for them in his spare time.

Izan had served in the military—and hadn’t struggled with anything other than a drive to push himself harder and farther than anyone else around him. He stood both taller and a little broader than his younger brother. Protective by nature, he tended toward an organised and regimented life, not something Niclas found interesting or comfortable.

For Niclas, a lot of life had been a struggle. He’d worked harder to keep up when others found things easy. It was sometimes exhausting.

Things in general often came easily to Izan. On the other hand, Niclas stumbled his way into success and failure in equal measure, often with a bruise or two to show for his effort. Spatial awareness had always been an issue for him—thanks to being autistic—something his elder brother didn’t struggle with at all.

Izan had dated his way through quite a few men and women over the years. Niclas had been hesitant to enter relationships. His asexuality tended to be a barrier for some.

The brothers adored one another. Izan had always looked out for him, which Niclas found both endearing and frustrating. He knew his brother meant well.

Still planning your extended walk around the Cornish beaches over June and July? Have you thought about bringing a friend with you? Izan offered him one of the small cakes he’d brought. Eat, eat.

I’ll be fine. Niclas had endured this argument twice already. I’ve planned everything out quite carefully.

Fine? Fine. Fine, he says. Izan wiped the crumbs from his shirt with precise meticulousness. Last trip, you almost drowned, and you broke two toes. The one before? You got lost for three days. Three days.

I wasn’t lost. Just… took longer than expected to locate where I’d parked my Mini Cooper. Niclas crossed his arms and glared at his brother. I got there eventually.

Three whole days? Izan raised an eyebrow at him. You found it when a team came to rescue you.

I found a stash of coins. The oldest I’ve ever discovered, Niclas protested. We’re still cataloguing them at the museum. And they’ll pay for this entire trip and probably the one after.

Izan pinched the bridge of his nose. He did that a lot around his younger brother. Please be careful. I’m already starting to go grey.

You’re old, Niclas teased him. Don’t blame me for the passage of time taking its toll on you.

Ancient rubbish isn’t more valuable than your life.

I don’t intentionally get lost or injured. He had a bad habit of getting hyper-fixated on a new treasure hunt or arching project to the exclusion of just about everything else in his life. I try to be careful. I promise to do my best not to get hurt.

So where’s this Airbnb? I’ve driven all this way. Why don’t we pick up a pizza or something? You can tell me all about your finds. Izan glanced down at Niclas’s wetsuit. You leave your clothes in the Mini?

It’s a little cottage on the outskirts of Warminster. The owner’s connected to the museum. He gave me a good deal for the month. Niclas had varied successes with his treasure hunts. One a few years ago had garnered him a decent amount of money even after splitting it with the landowner. Izan had insisted he invest it wisely, and as a result, he could afford to travel across the country a few times a year. I planned to be here for another couple of hours.

The river, silt, and relics aren’t going to vanish in a day. And you need more than a white chocolate and raspberry cupcake. Izan took the metal detector from his brother, allowing him to more easily carry the small waterproof bag he had brought to store his treasures in while swimming. I parked beside your Mini Cooper, so we’ll have to walk back.

I really wanted to—

Niclas. Izan sighed. He shook his head before taking a deep breath. It’s your birthday. Maybe I just want to spend a little time with you.

Fine. He wasn’t trying to be difficult, but a change in his schedule always made him grumpy while he tried to process the new plan. It’s not far. I tried to stay close to my car this time.

This time? What happened?

Nothing. Niclas didn’t think his brother needed to know he’d had to hitch a ride with a local priest when he’d somehow managed to exhaust himself diving. I just meant in general.

With another one of his long sighs, Izan started walking along the riverbank toward their vehicles. They’d been on their own for a while. Their father had passed away before Niclas was born; their mother had died of cancer when he was thirteen.

Their stepfather was a lovely Welshman with his head in his books, something Niclas had obviously learned from him. Izan had often taken care of both of them.

Their only other living relatives were grandparents who still lived in Spain. They hadn’t seen them in years. So it meant the brothers were incredibly close.

And it meant occasionally, Izan acted more like his father.

So, what did you find? Izan broke the silence after a few minutes of walking. Anything interesting?

Niclas cheered up immediately. He shifted his gear under his other arm to bring up one of the tokens that he’d cleaned up. Copper, I think. A bracelet that’s definitely Roman. Not sure of the precise date, but I’m thinking around the third century. Maybe.

Nice. Izan leaned over to get a closer look at it. Rare?

Not exceptionally, but a nice artefact nonetheless. He carefully secured it back in his little treasure pouch. Shouldn’t you be working? Playing the looming bodyguard behind some CEO?

Private security isn’t all CEOs.

No? Who else can afford your services?

Fair point. Izan shrugged. He glanced at Niclas for a moment with an odd look on his face. I have a favour to ask.

No.

I haven’t asked yet.

You’ve got a weird gleam in your eyes. I love you. I don’t trust the look when I don’t understand it. Niclas trusted his brother, but sometimes Izan did things that irritated him. What is it?

Remember Falk?

Falk. Niclas cringed when his voice went up almost an octave. He cleared his throat and ignored his brother’s chuckle. The tall Viking? Who you call Grizz? Why are you acting like I’ve only met him once?

He’s not a Viking.

Falk Evensen? Taller than you? Blond hair and blue eyes? Definitely a Viking in a past life. Or, maybe part bear combined with a Nordic ancestor. Niclas ignored how his heart always started racing when he thought about his brother’s old military mate and current co-worker. He’s one of your best mates. I’ve known him almost as long as you have. Of course I remember him. What about him?

Falk Evensen had been a combat medic. He’d saved Izan’s life once. There was something of a brave warrior in him, maybe his Viking ancestry shining through.

He’s planning on taking a few months off. Too much stress. I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind a companion on your Cornwall adventure? Izan threw an arm out to catch him when Niclas tripped. How… how do you stumble over the sodding air?

Talent?

What do you think?

What do I think?

Invite the man that I’ve had a crush on for over ten years to travel with me for the summer?

What could possibly go wrong?

Think about what? Tripping over the air? Niclas inspected his shoes for a second. Maybe the ground tried to eat my foot?

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