Page 92 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“Granted. But how did youfeel?”

“Helpless.”

Kenny gestured with his hand, as if that would explain everything he couldn’t.

Jack turned away, his deep exhale escaping in wisps of pale condensation hanging in the cold air before dissolving into nothing. “But whyhim?” Jack glanced back through the window.

“Human attraction is complex.” Kenny lingered on Aaron. The way he leaned back on the counter partition, scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious to the storm he caused inside Kenny. “It isn’t clever. Cautious. Or rational. It’s a chemical surge, a cascade of dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin—”

“Very romantic.” Jack tutted.

“And it’s designed, specifically, to make us lose our damn minds. To chase it. Overthink it. Glorify it. And when we finally have it, we spend all our energy trying to control it.”

Jack’s silence made Kenny delve deeper inside himself.

“Been studying this shit for years, Jack. I know better than most how the initial spark—those fireworks and belly flutters—aren’t sustainable. It’s fleeting by design. A biological trick to push us into connection. What follows, though? That’s the real choice. The challenge. Do you stay when the fire dims? When you realise they’re as flawed as you are?”

“And willyou? This time?” Jack jutted his chin toward the window, where Aaron served another customer. “Justhim? Noclubs?”

“He won’t give me the chance.” Kenny drew in a breath at Aaron’s bright smile as he handed over a receipt. “It’ll be him who grows bored with me first. He’ll carve out these insides, take everything he needs from me to survive, then leave me for dead.”

“And you’re just going to lie down and let that happen?”

Kenny looked at him. “Yeah. Looks like I am.”

He and Jack stayed like that for a while. It felt like a reckoning. As if the fragile, frayed threads still connecting them slowly untangled, piece by piece, dissolving into nothing. Neither spoke, but the quiet was loud, a shared acknowledgment of what they’d once been, what they could no longer be. That they were now absolved of all the pain and hurt and regret they both carried. As if their binding had finally snapped, setting them adrift. Away from each other, and into their own lives.

Jack to Fraser.

Kenny to Aaron.

A sharp knock on the window shattered the stillness. Kenny jolted, snapping up to see Aaron pounding his fist on the glass, face twisted in frustration and raking his hand through his platinum hair, movements frantic, almost manic, as though he’d been trying to get their attention forever. His eyes darted toward the pathway, and he jabbed a finger, urgently pointing at a man limping away from the shop, hood pulled low over his face.

“Shit!” Jack was already on his feet, moving toward the shadows.

Kenny froze for a moment, mind racing. Jack couldn’t confront the man outright—not without more evidence. But if they let him walk away, they might lose their best lead. The scenarios played out in Kenny’s head like a film reel, none of them ending well. His pulse rocketed as he shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed his bag from the ground.

“Here.” Aaron appeared at his side, slipping a lip balm into Kenny’s hand. “Kept one back. Go say he dropped it.” Then, without waiting for Kenny to react, Aaron pushed him forward.

Kenny rushed after the man, his shoes crunching in the frosted grass as he passed Jack lingering in the shadows, coiled like a spring. Jack threw him a sharp warning, but Kenny ignored it. This needed finesse, not brute force.

“Hey, excuse me?” Kenny called.

The man stopped, shoulders stiffening. Slowly, he turned his head, face partially obscured by the hood’s shadow. Kenny glimpsed the scars peeking out from beneath the dim light of the streetlamp and recognition hit him like a punch to the gut.

Kenny held out his hand. “You dropped this back there.”

The man’s eyes darted to the lip balm, then to Kenny. For a moment, the tension crackled, palpable and suffocating. Then Peter snatched the tube from Kenny’s hand, dropping it into the plastic bag he carried without a word before turning to walk away. He wore gloves.Bollocks.

“Peter, right?” Kenny called again.

Peter stopped, body rigid. Slowly, he turned back, eyes narrowing as they met Kenny’s.

“We met when I came to see Dr Manon a few days ago?” Kenny smiled, extending his hand in a gesture of familiarity. “Dr Lyons. Vijay says you’re quite brilliant.”

Peter hesitated, gloved hand twitching before he took Kenny’s in a brief, firm shake. He didnotwant to be here. Doing this.

“Lot of lip balms.” Kenny gestured to the bag, keeping his tone casual, conversational, but his eyes stayed sharp, reading every hint in Peter’s expression.

---