Page 28 of Killing Me Softly

“You think no one’s noticed?” Jack said, voice low so as not to travel. “You think no one’s paying attention to all your sneaking around? Someone knows. Someone’s not happy about it.”

“No one knows about me and Aaron.”

“Iknow!”

“And who have you told?”

“No one other than my husband, but that’s not the point. You’re not as careful as you think you are.Weweren’t back in the day, either. It’s fucking obvious when you walk around with your tongue hanging out.”

“Fuck you.” Kenny turned away.

“All right, I’ll rephrase. When you have hearts in your eyes, covering him in cotton wool, holding onto him so fucking tight because you’re so damn scared you’ll lose him.”

Kenny’s chest constricted painfully. He’d been stupid to think Jack wouldn’t know all that, but he still felt cornered. And so when he spoke again, it was feeble. “Everyone connected to them is locked away.”

“Wethoughtthat before.”

The words hung in the air like a loaded gun. Kenny closed his eyes as everything crushed him. “Shit, Jack.” He staggered back, hand to his mouth. “I can’t… I can’t deal with this.”

The room felt smaller, suffocating. Emotions surged, threatening to overwhelm him. His tightly sealed mental boxes, the ones he’d spent years constructing to keep himself functional, were bursting open, spilling everything he’d been trying to contain. Grief. Guilt. Fear. It was too much, and he couldn’t force it back in.

His mind flashed to his mother, lying in another room, zipped into a plastic sheet, waiting to be laid to rest beside her husband and the daughter she’d lost far too soon. He should have been thinking of her. He should have been grieving for her. But all he could think about was Aaron.

It would always be Aaron.

The way his face lit up in Barcelona when they weren’t looking over their shoulders. The warmth of him beside him in bed, anchoring him in ways he couldn’t explain. The vulnerability Aaron trusted him with, even when Kenny didn’t feel worthy of it. And now Aaron, whose parents’ crimes had twisted and haunted his life for twenty-one years, might once again be at the centre of something dark and dangerous.

“Jack…” His voice wavered as he gripped the back of a chair, knuckles white. “Please. Just… please. I need you to look into this. I can’t think straight. Can’t…function.”

Jack placed a hand on Kenny’s shoulder, steadying him. “I’ll look into it. We’ll get Chong to examine your mother’s body. I’ll get a team on this and in here asap. Go home. Get some rest.”

Kenny nodded weakly, his vision blurring as he clung to the only thing he had left. Hope that Jack could uncover the truth before it was too late.

Jack looked at his watch. “You did that in eight minutes.”

“I take longer in my old age.”

“I’m sure Aaron’s delighted about that.”

Kenny tried for a smile, but it was feeble.

“Go home, Kenny. I’m calling this in now.” Jack fished out his phone, and it was at his ear, calling whoever it was he needed to get the ball rolling on a potential murder investigation.

Kenny forced himself out of the nursing home, legs shaky beneath him, every step a battle against the load threatening to pull him under. His fractured mind scattered in too many directions, and he couldn’t put himself back together. Not yet. Arrangements, family calls, they all felt insurmountable without answers. Answers he couldn’t provide. All he wanted was to find some semblance of quiet in his head. Some fragile peace that would let himsleep.

But going home to an empty bed felt like another punishment.

Sliding into his car, Kenny retrieved his phone from the console. He hovered his thumb over Aaron’s text. The simple three words he’d sent hours ago.Thinking of you.Aaron rarely texted. Rarely called. He wasn’t someone who communicated in obvious ways. He justshowed up. Turning up unannounced. Quietly existing in Kenny’s orbit like a tether Kenny hadn’t realised he needed.

Sending that message would have cost Aaron something. He would’ve agonised over every word. Every punctuation mark. Running through the possibilities in his mind like a brokenrecord. Whether to send it. How to phrase it. And then, once it was done, Aaron probably curled up somewhere, trying to pretend he hadn’t. Kenny knew Aaron’s mind better than his own. Knew the fragility of his psyche, the fragmented way he’d constructed himself from years of chaos. Aaron didn’t function in straight lines. He worked in jagged pieces, stitched together by trial and error, constantly questioning whether he’d got it right.

And here Kenny was—two decades Aaron’s senior—and still unsure what to say in reply.

With a sigh, he dropped the phone and started the car. He’d think of something when he got home, where he could compose himself. For a moment, he considered driving straight to Aaron’s room, barging into his student accommodation like he had on rare, desperate occasions. But it was late, and one wrong move, one security guard spotting him, could shatter everything they’d fought to keep hidden. He couldn’t risk it. Not tonight.

When he pulled into his driveway, the memories of Barcelona rushed at him and he grabbed his bag from the back seat, stomach sinking. For a few fleeting days, things had been easy. Beautiful. They’d laughed. They’d lived. Reality had felt distant, almost non-existent. But he had to slam the boot shut on those memories and let himself into the house, dropping his keys into the bowl by the door and leaving his suitcase in the entryway. Climbing the stairs, he stripped off his damp clothes and stopped in the bathroom, splashing cold water over his face. The mirror reflected a man who barely looked like himself. Hollow, exhausted, falling apart. Clutching his phone like a lifeline, he pushed into his bedroom, leaving the lights off.

The room felt strange. The curtains were drawn, though he couldn’t remember doing that before leaving for Barcelona. It didn’t matter. Because something else caught his eye—a figure stirring beneath the duvet.

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