Page 99 of Don't Shoot Me Santa
“How doyouknow? Did they tell someone? Leave a note? We don’t always come with labels, you know. Look at you.” Aaron waved a hand at him, dismissive and sharp. “No one clocks you as bi off the bat. If you dropped dead without me, no phone, no context, they’d stick you under ‘confirmed bachelor.’ Unless someone went spelunking through your porn history or found those little naked-bedside photos you think I don’t know you take of me tangled in the sheets.”
“You look…genuinely breathtaking like that.”
“I’m aware. Also don’t think I don’t pose that way on purpose. Consider it performance art for your eyes only. But the point is, if you died in a ditch somewhere far away from me, you’d be chalked up as a cis het on the database, right?”
“Is this you saying you’d like me to wear a pin badge to declare my sexuality if on the statistically unlikely event I die when I’m not with you, which is about ninety percent of the time?”
“No. I’d like you tonotdie. Or be permanently glued to me, bumping that ninety percent up to a full one hundred. But if you do, I’ll make sure your eulogy includes the fact that you enthusiastically suck cock. Frequently. Mine, in particular. And how you’re fucking irritatingly good at it.”
“Thank you. Although, that does skew a little gay.”
“I’ll clarify. Add a footnote about your regrettable experiences with women.”
“Charming. You mean mybisexuality.”
“I mean your blip.” Aaron tucked a lock of Kenny’s hair behind his ear, then gave his earlobe a gentle tug. “They were all blips before me, lover. Even the men.”
“So my sexuality is simply… Aaron?”
“Obviously.”
Kenny shook his head,the faintest smile tugging at his mouth before it dropped. “Regardless, I think this is rooted far deeper than hate. I think it’s about control. Who’s allowed to take up space, and who’s not.”
He reversed the car, one arm over the back of Aaron’s seat, and as he did, he stroked his fingers along Aaron’s neck. Right over the tattoo of Mars. As if still trying to be his lover despite saying what was possibly the worst thing ever. That there was something deeper thanhateleading to all these murders. And those fingers were letting Aaronknow Kenny was right there with him. With all of them. And he was going to figure this out. For him. Forthem.
Then he said, “Also, someone made sure that phone was left in her hand.”
Aaron’s head snapped towards him.
“With your contact open on it.” Kenny held his gaze. “Knowing what we know about this killer, that won’t be random.”
“Because I put ‘gay’ in my contact?”
“We’ve established the motive isn’t to do with sexuality.” Kenny shifted the gear into drive. “So it’s something else.”
“Like what?”
Kenny said nothing.
Aaron’s chest tightened. “We left all that behind, doc. You and me. All of it.”
Kenny didn’t reply. He drove.
Aaron chewed the side of his thumbnail, watching the greyscale of winter blur past. Skye’s face stayed with him. Her smallness, the ribbon, the name stitched in thread. All that effort to be remembered.
Then, after a beat: “Can we swing past the dog shelter?”
Kenny glanced over. “Now?”
“Yeah.” Aaron leaned his head back against the seat. “Lucky… she’s still not eating properly. Doesn’t trust anyone. She’s underweight. Nervous. Won’t let people near her. But yesterday… she took food from my hand. That has to mean something.”
Kenny glanced over, as much as the ice-slick road would allow. He understood. Of course he did. This wasn’t about Lucky. There were other handlers. Jonathon was probably in already. The rota didn’t matter, Aaron was off it. And the shelter didn’t shut down for weather or breakdowns the way the college did.
No. Aaron wasn’t going back because hehadto.
He was going back because he’d left. Because he’d bolted yesterday when everything went to shit. And he couldn’t leave Lucky feeling as if he’d abandoned her, too. He needed to show up. Even if it was for a traumatised lurcher who flinched at kindness. To prove, to himself more than anyone, that he did show up when he was needed.
So Kenny guided the car through the icy roads, tyres crunching through hard snow as they pulled into the dog shelter’s car park. A few faint lights glowed behind the frosted windows. Blackwell’s car was still there. Same space as yesterday. Snow untouched on the roof and windshield.
