Page 23 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“Everything okay?” Kenny asked.

Fraser lifted his gaze, then sighed. “I probably shouldn’t…” He closed his eyes. “It’s Jack…He’s wound tighter these days.”

Ah. Here it is.

Kenny waited.

“Since we came back here.” Fraser looked him in the eye. “Has a lot of memories of this place.”

“He does.”

“Some bad.”

“Some very bad.”

Fraser flinched as if not expecting that. He probably thought Kenny would try to defend himself, at least. Say some memories were good. And while they were, they unfortunately didn’t outweigh the bad.

“He hasn’t been sleeping.” Fraser shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with telling Kenny but also clearly needing to.

“He’s landed a shit case right now.”

“Yeah. And he’s had bad cases up in Scotland, but he just seems tense all the time here. I’ve tried to get him to relax. Exercise. Mindfulness. All the other healthy body, healthy mind stuff I preach, but, well… the healthy mind stuff isn’t my forte.”

“The mind’s a complex thing.”

“Yeah. So…what can I do?”

Kenny inhaled, slipping his hands in his pockets. He felt for Fraser. It was clear the man adored his husband. He loved him enough to come in here and face his ex to ask for advice. But Kenny had sworn to Jack never to divulge what they’d once been to each other. How could he go against that?

“You know him better than anyone.” Fraser’s shoulders sagged as if he couldn’t bear to admit that. “Better than me. I just want to help him. You were with him during the Ryston years. You know how his head works when he gets like this.”

“The Ryston years?” Kenny exhaled a dejected laugh.

“The big case.”

“Yeah.” Kenny nodded. “I realise what he was referring to.”

The Howell case. It had had a lasting effect on everyone involved, and he swallowed, focusing on the floor tiles, Fraser’s words digging into places he didn’t want to revisit. But he wanted to help Jack. And Fraser. If Jack was struggling mentally, he wouldn’t be doing his best work. And if Fraser couldn’t help him, their marriage might not last to the honeymoon. Kenny would hate himself if there was an opening to prevent all that and he didn’t take it.

“If he’s spiralling, sometimes a distraction helps,” Kenny said, hoping to remain ambiguous enough whilst also offering a vague insight. “Something familiar. Calming.”

“Like what? We run. Do weights. Eat healthy. Binge Netflix. Play cards. We also have an ongoing chess tournament as he’s teaching me.”

“All great stuff. Keep those up. The chess is a great distraction.” How could he let Fraser know without actually saying it? “Have you tried reading to him?”

“Reading to him? Like, out loud?”

“Yes. While in bed, maybe.”

“So…a novel?”

“Hmm, not so much a novel. Something simple. Like a children’s book. It’ll pull him out of his head for a while.”

“Like, a bedtime story?” The slight crease in Fraser’s brow and the hesitant way his lips parted told Kenny everything.

He was trying to decide if this advice was genuine or if Kenny was testing him, maybe even mocking him. Had anyone else offered this suggestion, it would sound ridiculous, bordering on absurd. But being a doctor, a psychologist, meant people often took Kenny’s words as gospel, even when they should question them. The authority that his title carried was both a blessing and a burden, and Kenny knew better than to lean on it carelessly. But Fraser wasn’t gullible. He wasn’t someone toaccept advice blindly, not even from a professional. That made this moment delicate. Kenny needed to tread carefully.

“I know it sounds unconventional,” Kenny said. “But Jack doesn’t respond to typical methods when he’s wound this tight. He needs something grounding. Something that pulls him away from the spiral. A bedtime story works because it’s simple. Familiar. Sometimes it’s not about the words, but the rhythm, the tone. It’s about feeling safe.”

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