Page 69 of Dream a Little Dream

Jack snorted, putting down the box. “You can take one with you? For Heather?” He took a bite from his cupcake. “Friday night in, surely?”

“Sadly, no night in. We’re at a party. One of her colleagues is retiring.” Kenny kept it to himself that this was only their third date, and how he believed it way too early to bring in friends and work colleagues, but he’d also been unable to say no considering what had almost happened a few days ago. So he threw the strap of his laptop bag over his shoulder, crossing it over his chest, then peered down at Jack. He watched him lick around the twirling icing, picking through the sprinkles, and it was so childlike, it struck Kenny in the heart. Jack deserved that cake. And he deserved the man baking it for him.

“You should tell him,” Kenny said before he could stop himself.

A long silence stretched. Then Jack tucked the cupcake back in the box, dusting his hands together. “Fuck off, Kenny.”

“If he does this for you,” Kenny gestured to the homemade goodies, “then he’s a natural caregiver. He could give youallof what you want. Need.”

“I thought you were acriminalpsychologist, not a sex and relationship therapist.”

“We all start at the same point.”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“You deserve to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“In bed?”

Jack shot out of his seat, pointing a finger at Kenny. “Fuck you, Kenny. Fuckallof you.”

Kenny remained calm, letting Jack’s rage burn out. Then, “I mean it, Jack. You weren’t happy when you walked out of my life. I could only whisk you away for a short time. But this man who checks in on you, bakes for you, ensures you’re fed and watered, that you’reokay…he’s smitten by you. And he can make you happy andalsowhisk you away to your fantasy beach, making you come harder than even I could.”

Jack leaned away. Folded his arms. “Does it not hurt you?”

“Does what not hurt me?”

“To think of me like that with someone else?”

“Does it hurt you to think ofmelike that with someone else?”

“Yes. Nowyouanswer a fucking question for once.”

Kenny exhaled, chest deflating around the truth. “No.”

Jack looked away, hiding the crumbling expression Kenny knew all too well.

“I want you to be happy, Jack. So fuckingdeliriouslyhappy that you shove it in my miserable, broken face. I want you to revel in it.Swimin it. I want you so damn happy that you never think about me again. Never think about what I did to you. I want you so fucking happy that when I ask you if it hurts to imagine me fucking someone else, you sayno.”

Silence engulfed the room. Until another knock and the same officer from before popped her head in, glancing from one to the other with unease. “Sir?”

“Yes, Jenkins?” Jack snapped.

“Frank Howell’s just been found dead in prison.”

Chapter sixteen

Creep

“How did that make you feel?”

If Aaron heard that question one more time, he’d explode. Burst his insides all over the shitty yellow covered walls and let his entrails slither down into a heap on the floor.

“Why is everyone obsessed with feelings?” he shot back in exasperation. “Sometimes peopledon’tfeel. Don’twantto feel. They want to shut off. Pain? Who the hell wants to feel pain? Love? Fuck love.”

Here he was again. Another Friday afternoon and another fucking welfare session, and he slouched in the rickety low-slung chair in Drew’s office, scanning the cheap posters on sexual health and the ones plastered over them about the Samaritans, conveniently posted after Rahul’s death. They were nothing but empty platitudes designed to fix broken souls. But some souls didn’t needfixing. Some were supposed to be shattered.

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