Page 24 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“Do you mean read to him like you would a child?”

“Exactlylike you would a child. Hold him while you do it, too.” Kenny lowered his voice for it not to carry too far and also so Fraser would understand the intimacy of the information. “When you’re in bed.”

Fraser exhaled, nostrils flaring. “Is that whatyoudid for him?”

Before Kenny could admit to anything, Heather and Jack entered with empty glasses and the empty bottles of wine.

“What are you two sneaking off for?” Heather sidled up to Kenny as Jack stood beside Fraser, him instinctively wrapping his arm around him.Natural caregiver.If he did the bedtime story stuff, Jack would be putty in that man’s hands. And maybe Jack would urge him to go further than that. And Kenny could finally be free of it.

“Thank you for helping.” Heather wrinkled her nose at him, edging closer. She was giving him permission to move their friendship along. To go back to maybe being something more. She was letting him know she still wanted him.

From across the room, Jack raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t blind to the way Kenny carried himself around Heather. Measured. Careful. Keeping a subtle distance, as though proximity might tip the balance of something precarious. It was restraint in its purest form, deliberate and telling. Jack also wasn’t blind to how Kenny was around Aaron. Starkly, unmistakably different. There was no careful detachment, no polishedrestraint. Around Aaron, Kenny’s control faltered, emotions slipping through the cracks no matter how tightly he tried to hold them in. The way he’d once been around Jack. And Jack didn’t need to say it aloud. His stare was enough, silently calling Kenny out.

I see you.

The sharp buzz of Kenny’s phone interrupted the moment, and he removed himself to fish it out. Glancing at the screen, his stomach both dropped and flipped.

“Sorry.” He waggled the phone. “I need to take this.”

He stepped out of the kitchen, into the hallway, answering the phone hushed enough for his voice not to travel through the walls. “Aaron?”

There was a muffled noise at the other end, Aaron’s voice slurring, thick and unsteady before he rolled out the, “Been roofied.”

Kenny gripped the phone, pulse racing. “Where are you?”

“Taylor…” Aaron’s voice was so light it was barely audible, as if he were drifting away.

Kenny didn’t wait for anything more. “Stay where you are.”

He then ended the call and bolted for the door, not bothering with his jacket or a goodbye. Fuelled by adrenaline, he launched into his car parked on the street, hands trembling as he jammed the key into the ignition, and roared the car to life. His phone connected to the Bluetooth, and he called Aaron again. The line rang, each tone stretching painfully long. No answer. A hollow dread twisted in his gut as he slammed his foot on the accelerator, tyres screeching against the pavement, and tore through the quiet streets.

He shouldn’t know where Taylor’s house was. But he did. He’d followed Aaron there once during the summer, driven by some sick, shameful need toknow. He’d told himself it wasn’t stalking, just concern. But on other nights, he’d found himselfparked nearby, staring at the house, knowing Aaron was inside, torturing himself with thoughts of what he might be doing.

Tonight, knowing where Taylor lived wasn’t a curse—it was a lifeline. His mind raced as the streets blurred past.Rohypnol? Alcohol poisoning? Something worse?Chong’s words about Connie Bishop’s toxicology report replayed in his mind, chilling him.A neurotoxin, fast-acting, undetectable in standard screenings.

Urging the thought away, he focused on the road. Thank fuck he’d only had the one glass of wine at Heather’s. He gripped the wheel as he pulled into Taylor’s street where rows of terraced houses lined the lane, the hum of music and laughter spilling from one house in particular. He parked hastily and stepped out, scanning the scene. Lights blazed in the windows, music thumping loud enough to echo into the street. Shadows of bodies moved behind the curtains. He was about to march in when his psychologist’s mind kicked in, running through Aaron’s behavioural patterns.

He replayed the call. There’d been no music in the background. No other voices. Nothing to indicate Aaron was still at the party. And Aaron? Who was Aaron as a person? Aaron hated feeling vulnerable. He wouldn’t stay somewhere he felt unsafe. He’d spent his life fending for himself. Learning he was alone. In times of trouble, what did Aaron do?

He’d run. Get himself away.

Kenny scanned up and down the street, searching. Then he saw it—a narrow alleyway between two houses, dark and uninviting, leading to the next street. His gut twisted. Aaron sought solitude in moments of distress. Kenny started toward the alley, calling Aaron’s number again. Faint vibrations buzzed somewhere in the darkness and Kenny’s heart lurched, so he clicked on his phone’s torch, the beam slicing through the shadows and revealing a slumped figure in the grass.

“Aaron!” Kenny bolted forward, falling to his knees as hegrabbed him by the shoulders to prop him up and panic bled through his usual composure. “Aaron, can you hear me?”

Aaron’s head lolled, eyes fluttering open, bloodshot and struggling to focus. “Doc?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Relief flooded Kenny.

“How…?”

“You called me. Can you stand?”

“Feel sick…” Aaron groaned, face pinching in pain.

“Okay.” Kenny stroked a damp strand of hair from Aaron’s forehead, swiping away the sodden grass sticking to his cheek. “You can be sick, but we need to get you to a hospital.”

“No.” Aaron grabbed Kenny’s shirt in a weak grasp. “No hospital…no checks.”

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