Page 36 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

Even his sarcasm landed with less bite than usual. Maybe it was the way Kenny looked at him, as if he was wild but precious. Not an animal to fear, but one not to disturb. One that didn’t survive cages.

“I want the oneyoupick.” Kenny tightened his hand on his jaw. “With the uneven branches and tragic charm.”

Something shifted in Aaron’s chest. A click. A creak. Aloosening. “That’s weirdly romantic.”

“Guilty.”

Aaron squinted. “This about the corpse you’ll be flirting with later?”

Kenny bit his lip, beard catching faintly on his teeth. “I got an email from DS Parry this morning. She’s invited me to the station after my morning class.”

“Really nailing the festive mood, here, lover. Nothing says Christmas like murder.”

“There’s actually a long tradition of darkness tied tomidwinter. Folklore. Ritual. Symbolism. The solstice marked the thinning of the veil. When things buried crawl closest to the surface. Maybe that’s why murder feels more… resonant this time of year.”

“Please don’t quit academia to write for Clinton Cards.”

Kenny chuckled. Then turned serious. “If you don’t want me to take the case, I won’t.” He met Aaron’s gaze with that unnervingly steady calm. “Say the word and I’ll reply right now. Tell them I’m stepping away.”

Aaron’s stomach flipped.

Not because he wanted Kenny to drop it. He didn’t. If anyone on this bleak little island could get into the mind of some freak who killed people at Christmas and dressed them like decorations, it was Kenny.

No, what knotted his insides was that Kennymeant it.

Utterly. Quietly. No performance, no pressure. Nothing but a still, terrible truth: that he’d walk away. Let someone else botch the profile. Let the bodies keep coming. All to keep Aaron from losing himself again. It wasn’t a test. Wasn’t emotional blackmail or some twisted ‘prove-you-love-me’ game.

It was worse than that.

It wasreal.

If you need me to stop, I will.

So he rolled his eyes. Not because he didn’t take it seriously, but because the alternative, meeting that kind of care head-on, would wreck him in broad daylight.

“Sure.” He reached for the door. “If you get too obsessed with someone who isn’t me, I’ll use the safeword.” He laughed, then went to get out of the car, but Kenny grabbed his wrist before he could. “What?”

“That…” Kenny tilted his head, stroking his thumb across the inside of his wrist, over his new tattoo. “That’s actually something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Aaron sank back into the seat as if nudged into it by an invisible hand. “What?”

“A safeword.”

“I’m sorry? You want me to give you a code word for when I sass you too hard? Tough shit. You signed up for this.”

“Tempting. But no. A real one. A safeword. For us. Well, for you.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Bit late in all this to tell me you’re into dungeons, don’t you think?”

The joke didn’t land the same this time. It hit too close to something he didn’t know how to name, and Kenny didn’t rise to it. He met Aaron’s gaze. Calm. Direct.

“It’s not only used for dungeons. It’s forclarity. Knowing there’s a word you can say if you ever need me to stop. Anything. Not just in bed. Anywhere. Any situation where something becomes too much.”

Aaron stared at him.He’s fucking serious.

And if they weren’t parked two metres from the front door of an old people’s home where he had to make nice with the residents so they’d leave something for the dog charity in their wills, with the building decorated disgustingly cheerful for Christmas, he might’ve asked Kenny if he was about to spring a contract and collar out of the glove box. Instead, he sat there, silent, trying not to overreact and trying even harder not tofeelthe thing tugging low in his chest. The part of him that curled up, always waiting to be told what to do but never quite trusting the person giving the orders.

Kenny cupped Aaron’s jaw to pull his face towards him. “You have about seventeen things going around in your head right now.”