Page 95 of Killing Me Softly

“What was it, Kenny? The thrill? The psychological paradox of the forbidden fruit? Did you convince yourself you could fix him? That your love could override nature? Did you mistake his trauma for malleability? His darkness for something you could shape into a redemption arc?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Or was it you just wanted to put your dick into something dangerous? Howpredictable.Menare so very predictable.”

She stood and marched over to the door, curling her fingers around the handle as she threw one last look over her shoulder.

“I sincerely hope you haven’t fallen in love with him, Dr Lyons. Because if you have, you’re about to find out what my sister learned the hard way. What it really means to love a psycho.” She yanked open the door. “Gail!” she called, feigning distress with cruel ease. “Could you get security up here? Dr Lyons has passed out drunk. They should take him home.”

Kenny tried—sofuckinghard—tomove.

To speak.

To do anything.

And if Gail hadn’t seen him in the car park earlier, hadn’t watched him kiss Aaron. Not witnessed the dishevelled intimacy of it. She might have questioned Pryce’s claim. Might have hesitated. Known better.But shehadseen. And that would be enough for her. Enough to shift her perception. To plant doubtwhere certainty had once stood. And even if there was doubt, it wouldn’t matter. She’d already condemned him the moment she’d discovered he’d been sleeping with a student.

A student likeAaron.

So he sank into the void.

And as darkness closed in, the last thing he saw was Pryce’s satisfied smirk, a perfectly executed checkmate. At least she was right about one thing.

Sometimes Kennydidget things wrong.

Chapter nineteen

Face to Face

Aarondidgo straight to his room.

Some might call that growth.

But the second he stepped inside and tossed his bag onto the bed, something sharp and unbearable clawed through his chest. He stared at the mattress, the dented pillows, the faint mess of sheets and even though it had been a year since Taylor had last been on that bed, the memories hit him one by one, and he couldn’t bash them away as if he were playing a game of whack a mole.

Because Taylor having been in his bed had ultimately caused his death.

It had never been perfect. Nor evennormal. And it had never been what he had with Kenny—not even close. But it had beensomething. Taylor, for a while, had been something real.Someonereal.

And now he was gone.

Not just gone.Extinguished. Snuffed out as if he never existed. As if his life hadn’t mattered. And, yes, Taylor had fucked up. Big time. He’d let his desperation cloud his judgement. But even if the whole roofie thing hadn’t happened, Aaron knew they had a time limit. Because his heart had always been with Kenny. It didn’t mean he wanted him todie.

Especially not by his own flesh and blood.

He swallowed hard, his mind wanting to take him into the darkness where the air whispered,this is all your fault. If he let it, he’d spiral. And he couldn’t afford to spiral.

Not when she was still out there.

But standing in this room, in this fucking graveyard of memories, was unbearable. The guilt curled in his gut. He’d known the first time he met Taylor that he would ruin his life. He hadn’t expected to be the reason it ended.

His feet were already moving before he could think. He tore off his shirt, yanking on jeans, a hoodie, grabbed his bag and stuffed what he could inside, then fled, needing air, needingout.

He hesitated only for a second before rapping his knuckles on Mel’s door.

Not that it would help. Not that walking into a room where another person had once lived and died because of him was going to make this any easier. But at the very least, he needed to tell her about Taylor before she found out through campus gossip.

Silence.

He knocked again. Still nothing.

Aaron frowned, pressing his ear to the wood. Huh. Maybe she’d already checked his room, seen he wasn’t there, and gone straight to their lecture. Or, more likely, her date had gone well, and she hadn’t even made it home. Fishing his phone from his bag, he checked his messages. Nothing.

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