Page 110 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

“He’s not here. He’s teaching the local sixth formers how to blame all their issues on their parents. Y’know, irony.”

“Right.”Another pause.“Have you opened it?”

“No.”

“Is there a stamp? Postmark? If it came from Ashbridge, they’d have run it through sorting.”

Aaron flipped it over. “Nothing. No stamp. No mark at all. It’s handwritten. Looks… old-fashioned.”

“So it was hand-delivered.”

“Fuck.” Aaron shut his eyes.

Chaos whined again and nosed his knee, the hole in his ripped jeans a perfect entry point. Aaron reached down, running his fingers deep into his fur, anchoring himself.

“Kenny said he’s working a case,”Jack said gently.“You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s it going?”

“He sent the profile in last night.” Aaron chewed on his lip. “Should be done for him. That part, anyway.”

Jack waited. Then asked,“And how was he through it?”

Aaron huffed out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I had ten orgasms yesterday.”

“Jesus.”Jack groaned.“Congratulations.”

“I think I need a medal.”

“And a shower.”

Aaron snorted. “Should I burn it?”

“I’m sure a shower will sort it out and you’ll be ready to break Kenny’s record again when he gets home.”

“I meant the card. And wait…what was Kenny’s record?”

“Perhaps wait to hear what Kenny says. About both.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Aaron tossed the card on the coffee table as if it still might burn on its own. “Do you…see her?”

“No.”

“Right. Good. That’s…good.”

“Take care, Aaron. Have a good Christmas. Both of you. You deserve to get everything you asked for.”

“Eleven orgasms?”

“If that’s on your list, go chase it. But hydrate, yeah?”

“Say hi to Fraser for me. Tell him his scone recipe sucked.”

“He loves you, too.”

Aaron ended the call, dropping the phone beside the card with a dull thud. Chaos crept closer, sensing the charge in the air, his body low, ears pricked. So Aaron clucked his tongue, grabbed the lead, and took him out. He needed the cold, the wind, something sharp to carve through the crawling dread under his skin.