Page 115 of Dream a Little Dream

The question lingered between them, a fragile thing. Because who was she to Kenny? Someone to pass the time? To fill a gap left by years of drifting between stability and longing? Or was she a chance at something real, a potential for the stability he craved? Someone to stabilise him, to hold on to?

“You were someone I wanted to get to know better.”

“Were?”

Kenny inhaled a sharp breath. “I thought I was ready. For a relationship. But current circumstances prove I’m in no position to bring anyone into my chaos.”

Heather looked down, then back up at him, searching his face as if wanting to believe him, but not sure if she could. “Because being with you means this is regular?”

“It isn’t just the external that’s chaotic. It’s the internal, too. I’m so sorry, Heather. I’m so sorry for what Alice has been put through and how all this came to you.”

“This sounds ominously like you’re breaking up with me.”

“I should have been honest a while back. I wanted this to work. Was sort of desperate for it, so I blocked out all the reasons it couldn’t.” He reached for her hand and squeezed. “I’d like to be your friend. To help you and Alice through this. But anything more isn’t something I can give right now.”

She nodded slowly. And Kenny felt the relief like a weight lifting from his shoulders.

“Mummy!” Alice called from behind the curtain, fragile and desperate, as if the horrors of the night had stripped away every ounce of the teenage bravado she’d once worn like armour. No longer fourteen going on twenty-one. She was now desperate to be a child.

Heather’s maternal instinct took over. “Coming!” she called back, giving Kenny a last, searching look before heading back to her daughter. “I’d like to be friends, too. Take care, Kenny.”

“Hold her tight,” Kenny said, watching as she turned back, slipping into her daughter’s cubicle, pulling her into her arms.

He lingered for a moment, heart twisting as he watched them together, before turning and navigating the sterile corridor, each step laden with anticipation, toward Aaron’s cubicle. Jack and the officers were already gone, meaning Kenny could talk to him away from prying ears. But as he reached Aaron’s bed, hestopped short. It was empty. The only sign of his presence was a nurse tidying up the sheets. Panic clawed up his chest.

“Where’s Aaron Jones?”

“Discharged a few minutes ago.”

Kenny’s heart sank. He suspected Aaron would run. Flee. Probably find himself with a different name. In a different place. Once again, starting over. Once again, without the support he needed.

And maybe what hurt more, withouthim.

He had to tell himself it was for the best.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The End of The World

Aaron found himself, once again, hunched on a doorstep.

Battered and bruised, not just his ego, but also in places hecouldsee. Aching in ways he didn’t fully understand. Exhausted and heartsick, he slouched forward, resting his arms on his knees, thinking he might just lie down right here, let sleep take him.

It was the cruel statistical fate of a care leaver to sleep rough. Where everyone eventually guessed he’d end up. If not behind bars like his parents, then he’d be on the street. Was told he would be. The first family had said as such when they’d beaten him senseless. He should thank Kenny for giving him a reason to prove them wrong. Desperate to meet the man who’d helped incarcerate his parents, he’d gained a thirst for education and that was what had brought him here right now.

The ironystung.

He had his student room, of course. He could go back there. But the thought of going alone, after everything, of being nextdoor to Rahul’s vacant room, killed him a little more than he was already.

There was Taylor. And Mel. The Halloween party was probably in full swing by now.

But…that wasn’t where hewantedto be.

The night wrapped itself around him like a heavy cloak, stifling and endless. And the soft rustling of leaves whispering through the stillness was the only sign that time was moving at all. His pulse drummed a relentless rhythm in his ears as he sat there, knees drawn up, mind unravelling in a tangle of fear, anger, and shame. He kept staring at the dark horizon, searching for something—anything.

Then a distant hum.

He sat up straighter; the noise cutting through the quiet like a lifeline. Moments later, twin headlights pierced the darkness, beams sweeping across the drive until they found him, illuminating him in their harsh, unforgiving glow. He didn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as the sleek silhouette of the Discovery came into view.

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