Page 91 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

Aaron looked at him, mouth half-full of toast. “Not officially. But Lucky…she still needs feeding. And… cuddling.” His voice dipped at the end, almost sheepish. He slumped further into the cushions. “I’m probably fired, anyway.”

“He can’t do that.”

Aaron met his gaze again. Disbelief flickered there, yes. But something deeper, too. A cusp of exposure. “You haven’t asked me what happened.”

“I don’t need to.”

Aaron tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Because I know you.”

“You know I spiral over nothing most days. So why not check? Make sure I didn’t lose it over having to complete another mind-numbing mandatory training module?”

“Do you usually scream ‘stay the fuck away from me’ when someone asks you to watch a Health and Safety video?”

Aaron shrugged. Crammed in more toast.

Kenny exhaled. “I also know your outbursts, Aaron. Your tells. And yesterday… that wasn’t rebellion or defiance.”

Aaron scoffed. “I called the CEO a cunt after kneeing him in the bollocks. That’s pretty textbook defiance.”

“There’s no argument from me that you have oppositional defiant traits. Sure, you have a long-standing resistance to authority rooted in early betrayal. You learned very young that people in power aren’t always safe. That trust can be weaponised. So you lash out pre-emptively. You burn the bridge before anyone else can.” He paused, took a sip of tea. Shrugged one shoulder. “Except with me.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes. “I push back on you all the time.”

“But I know which part of you I’m talking to when you do. I don’t treat it as a threat, because it’s not. Not from you. I know how to wear it down. Not through force, but through presence. Because when you’re pushing, you’re testing whether this is safe. Is this person still here when I bite?”

He set the mug down. Met Aaron’s stare head-on.

“But yesterday? The way you came out of that building… that wasn’t ODD. That was a trauma response. That was a boy choking down a scream. Your limbs were moving faster than your breath could keep up. You didn’t make eye contact. Your voice cracked. Your body was in survival mode.”

Aaron didn’t interrupt. Didn’t quip. He listened. Stripped bare. The way he was beneath that duvet.

“And paired with the flinch the other day when I touched your knee, the restlessness this week, I can tell you’re in a loop. Your system’s been on high alert since Blackwell started. And last night, it boiled over.”

Aaron looked down at his hands. “So you’ve been profiling me.”

“I’ve beenlovingyou.”

That got Aaron’s attention.

“I observe because I care. Because I know that when something cuts deep, you don’t shout. You don’t hit. You go quiet. You put on a show. You become the version of yourself that can survive. And I’ve seen that mask creeping back lately. The charm. The casual deflection. The tension behind your jokes.” He softened his voice. “I don’t need to be told what happened to be on your side. Ialwaysam. But I also know better than to pry before you’re ready. Because what you needed from me wasn’t interrogation. It was anchoring.” Kenny held his gaze, then reached for his tea. “And to bemade love to. Again and again. So you’d know I’m safe and I love you.”

Aaron blinked. “I don’t know how to feel about all that.”

“Which part?” Kenny asked gently. “That I understand you or that I made love to you when you were spiralling?”

Aaron chewed the inside of his cheek. “That I can’t hide anything from you.”

Kenny smiled, leaning back against the sofa. “Oh, you can. I just let youthinkyou can’t.”

Aaron lifted an eyebrow, something almost playful trying to break through the heaviness. “That’s manipulative.”

Kenny stretched an arm along the sofa, tickling the back of Aaron’s neck. “It’s effective.”

“If you weren’t so disgustingly good at this emotional insight thing and knowing how to handle me, I’d throw a pillow at you.”

“A pillow?”