Page 102 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

Jack nudged his knee to Kenny’s. “It’ll be better coming from you than anyone else.”

Kenny stared at the floor as if the tiles held the answers he didn’t want to face.

“But I don’t envy you that conversation.”

“Yeah.”

Jack nudged him with his elbow. “You know, heisgrowing on me.”

“Why? Because he’s done your job for you twice now?”

Jack chuckled, the sound light but laced with grudging admiration. “He’s still an absolute pain in my arse and gives me way too much paperwork. But…maybe his intentions are in the right place.” He softened. “And his heart. Which, right now, is inyourhands.”

“Does this mean you won’t accuse him of murder next time?”

Jack smirked. “I didn’t say that.”

Before Kenny could respond, the door to the ward creaked open, and a nurse stepped out.

“Who’s here for Aaron Jones?”

Kenny shot to his feet. “Me.”

The nurse smiled, full of warmth and sympathy. “He’s stable.”

Relief hit Kenny like a tidal wave, knees threatening to buckle. He managed a quick glance at Jack, who gave him a small nod of encouragement, then without another word, Kenny followed the nurse down the corridor, heart pounding in anticipation. The sterile hum of the hospital room did little to ease the tension coiling in his gut as he approached Aaron’s bed. The sight of him—pale, motionless, platinum hair damp against the stark white pillow—was enough to rob the air from his lungs.

A doctor stood at the bedside, flipping his stethoscope around his neck.

“How is he?” Kenny asked.

“Stable.” The doctor folded his arms. “And extremely lucky to be alive.”

Kenny inhaled sharply, hearing a doctor confirm how close he’d been to losing Aaron hitting him hard.

The doctor studied him for a moment. “You’re the one who brought him in?

“Yeah. I found him.”

“And you’re his…?” The question lingered unfinished, but the implication was clear. Parent? Teacher? Friend?Lover? Andhe swept his gaze over him, trying to place where he fit into Aaron’s world.

“Take what you need from me, lover.”

Kenny swallowed the word he wanted to use and made way for the only one that was acceptable. “I’m his…professor.”

The admission felt foreign, almost strange, because it didn’t belong. But what else could he say? Even if they were so much more than teacher and student. How could he explain their entanglement with a simple word? Their history. Their potential future. If they had one.

The doctor nodded, accepting the explanation without comment. “He’s been exposed to a neurotoxin, delivered through aerosol. A synthetic derivative of aconitine, a compound known for its potent effects on the nervous system. Once inhaled, it disrupts nerve signals, causing confusion, disorientation, and muscular paralysis. Left unchecked, it would have led to respiratory failure.”

Kenny’s stomach turned. “But he’s… he’s breathing now. By himself? That means he’s okay, right? He’ll be okay?”

“Yes, and no. The dose he inhaled wasn’t lethal. It was enough to bring him to the brink. Your actions likely saved his life. Flushing his face and airways slowed the toxin’s absorption, and the rapid response of emergency services ensured he received the treatment he needed. We administered antitoxin and provided respiratory support. He’ll likely experience lingering effects—fatigue, dizziness, and some short-term memory fog—but we don’t anticipate long-term damage.”

Kenny’s gaze dropped to Aaron’s hand.

“Had you been there even a minute later, we’d be having a very different conversation right now.” The doctor gave a curt nod. “Would you like the nurses to call his parents for you?”

That snapped Kenny out of his turmoil. “Ah, no. No, that’s okay. He’s…estranged.”

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