Page 48 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“So you’re here then, you dirty fuckingcheat!” Aaron then bolted into the living room, phone in hand, eyes wide as he took in the scene. Heather’s hand on Kenny’s leg. Her leaning into him. Eyes widening at Aaron.

Aaron glanced from Kenny to Heather, then rammed his phone into his back pocket, spun and ran, the front door slamming after.

Heather removed her hand from Kenny’s leg, eyebrows drawn as if figuring out what had just happened. “Was that…?”

Kenny stood, rushing out to the hallway and yanking open the door but Aaron was long gone. So he ventured back to the lounge, raking a hand through his hair, unsure how he could psychobabble his way out of this one.

“That’s…” Heather fell back on the sofa. “The boy who rescued Alice?” She looked at him for clarification. “Isn’t he your…student?” Her expression slipped into her schoolteacher mode when asking who threw the chalk.

“He attends Ryston, yes.”Feeble. Really damn feeble.

“Why does he have a key to your house?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” At leastthatwas true. He knewhowhe did, but thewhywould only be a theory.

“I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.”

“Are you and he…?”

“I’ve been helping him.” Kenny grappled to keep up his professional training with the truth he wanted to protect. “Since last year. He went through a lot, too. And had a difficult life before then. Trauma has shaped how he navigates the world and relationships. He trusts me, and I’ve tried to provide support beyond the classroom.”

“Don’t you think that’s crossing a line? How are you separating from being his teacher and…whatever this is?”

“I’ve allowed boundaries to blur, yes. It’s a flaw in my judgment, but it’s not malicious. It’s human. And it’s not what you think it is.”

Yes. It was.

He knew it. She knew it.Jackknew it. Eventually, everyone would know it, and it was why he had to sort it out before it ruined him.

Heather cocked her head. “You care about him, don’t you?”

Kenny exhaled, the truth pressing down on him. “More than I should.”

Heather stood and grabbed her bag. “Then I hope you figure out what the hell you’re doing before it destroys you.”

“So do I.”

With that, she walked out, leaving Kenny alone with the silence, and the havoc hanging in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst.

Exactly like Aaron fucking Jones.

chapter twelve

Back to Black

For the next few days, Aaron disappeared into himself.

It wasn’t just avoidance. It was survival. His coping mechanism was a well-worn path. Hide long enough, wait for the storm to pass, and then reemerge, stronger, or at least pretending to be. That’s what life had taught him. No one gave a fuck about his tears, his drama, his tragedy. Why let them see it?

Maybe it was those years locked in a cupboard while his parents went out to rape and murder, leaving him in the dark, with only the muffled sounds from old classic songs on his mother’s jukebox to keep him company. Or maybe it was the years after, sent to his room without food or water, punished for crimes he didn’t commit—only for existing, for sharing blood with monsters. Maybe it was being a teenager in a children’s home, one broken kid among many, drowning in confusion until he turned eighteen, then shoved out into the world, unprepared and unprotected. Whatever the cause, it always came back to this: when life became unbearable, he shut down. Turned inward. Cocooned himself in silence. In isolation.

And now, here he was again. Shutting everyone out because ofDr Kenneth Lyons.

Taking that key had been a mistake. He’d known it would be the moment he pocketed it. Walking into Kenny’s home and seeing him withHeather, cosy on the sofa like a picture-perfect couple, her hand on his knee, had been a dagger to his chest. The image seared into his mind, heart twisting, stomach hollowing out. That was why Kenny hadn’t taken his lecture on Monday. Why he hadn’t replied properly to Aaron’s texts. Because he was going back toher.

The rejection sat like a boulder on his chest, immovable, suffocating. He didn’t even have Taylor anymore to distract him, to drown the ache in meaningless sex. And who else could he tell? No one. Therewasno one. He had to bottle it up, like every other wound life had given him, and let it fester until he could bury it deep enough to face the world again.

By Wednesday, though, he had no choice but to resurface. His shift at the campus shop forced him out of his self-imposed hybernation. Another perk of his bursary for being a care leaver—a guaranteed interview for on-campus jobs. The shop had been convenient enough. Walking distance, low pressure. Most of the time, his manager disappeared into the back office, leaving Aaron to man the counter alone. It suited him fine. The quiet. The monotony. Was better than facing his classmates or the faculty.

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