Page 61 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

The door closed behind them with a heavy click and Aaron felt himself sag, the tension melting away as he crossed the threshold. This wasn’t just a house. It wassafety.

Not the walls. Not the roof. Not the locked door.

Kenny.

But the moment cracked like glass under pressure, and Aaron spun to face him, words tumbling out before he could stop them. “If you’re expecting Heather, I can—”

“I’m notwithHeather.” Kenny cut through Aaron’s hesitation like a sledgehammer.

Aaron blinked. “You’re not?”

“No.” Kenny tossed his keys into the dish by the door. “If you’d answered your fucking phone, I would have told you.”

Aaron’s mind reeled. “But…she was here.”

“She was asking for advice. Alice is seeing Dr Riley, and she wanted a professional opinion on how the sessions were going.”

Aaron swallowed hard, throat dry, thoughts scrambling for purchase. “Oh.”

Kenny stepped closer, the warmth of his presence pullingAaron in, steadying him. “I don’t know why you would think anyone else has more of a hold on me than you do.”

Aaron wanted to give in to his sudden racing heart, but so used to disappointment, he searched Kenny’s face, desperate for clarity. Because he couldn’t mean what Aaron was hoping for. What he desperately and uncharacteristicallyyearnedfor? Was Kenny finally giving in? Admitting this couldbesomething? He couldn’t be. There was too much against them. Too much at stake for Kenny. How could he even entertain thethoughtthat there was more between them than one unexpected, reckless night of chance?

Aaron knew it hadn’t been a chance encounter, though.

But he’d never expectedthis. To feel so much. So hard. For it to feel as if Kenny had cut right through to his heart and carved his name on it. That night over a year ago had meant to be payback. For Aaron to feel smug and superior and have one over on Dr Kenneth Lyons, the man who’d ripped his life apart. Instead, he was likethis. Begging for Kenny to give him the time of day.

Who’s the fool now?

But all he found in Kenny’s steadfast gaze was brutal honesty piercing through his defences and threatening to expose the feelings he refused to acknowledge. It was maddening—infuriating—how easily Kenny stripped him bare without a single word, leaving Aaron teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t quite bring himself to leap into.

“I’m a mess.” The words were foreign on Aaron’s tongue, as if speaking a language he hadn’t realised he knew.

“I know.” Kenny shrugged out of his coat, hanging it on the hook behind him, standing there in his three-piece suit, a pillar of respectability and authority. Such a contrast to him in tatty, ripped jeans and a hoodie. “Take those boots off and go sit in the living room. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Aaron nodded mutely, bending down to unlace his batteredcombat boots. He kicked them off and placed them beside the neatly arranged rows of Kenny’s polished brogues, sleek trainers, and sturdy boots, all lined up like soldiers on parade. He then padded into the front room and sank onto the sofa, running his hands through his hair as if trying to scrape away the fear clinging to him.

A moment later, soft music floated through the room, filling the space with delicate nostalgia. Kenny must have linked the jukebox in the dining room into the modern speakers as the familiar click of a vinyl record and slight hiss of static before the grainy, crooning voice of an old ballad singer filtered out. Aaron eased back into the seat, letting the music reach into his chest and untangle his knot of tension.

God. Kennyknewhim.

Knew him better than he knew himself.

When Kenny returned, still dressed in his suit, tie slightly loosened but otherwise immaculate, he carried two glasses of whisky. The amber liquid caught the light as he handed one to Aaron, then settled onto the coffee table directly in front of him. The way Kenny perched there—close, calm, unreadable—made Aaron’s stomach clench. He’d seen Kenny sit like this before. When he’d walked in on him and Heather.

The thought punched the air out of his lungs. Was this it? Was this the part where Kenny explained, gently and carefully, that Aaron’s presence here—his presence in hislife—was a mistake and one he had to rectify?

Aaron took a sip of whisky, the taste burning its way down his throat and he darted his gaze to Kenny, who seemed lost in thought, one hand slipping into the pocket of his trousers. When Kenny withdrew his hand, he pulled out a crumpled packet of cigarettes, the cardboard soft and faded.

“If you have to.” Kenny held them out to Aaron. “You can have these.”

“They look older than you, doc.”

Kenny snorted. “Not quite. Might be older than you, though.”

“You used to smoke?”

“Yes. Started because of stress at around…fifteen. Developed into a habit by eighteen.”

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