Page 17

Chapter sixteen

A Cure For Minds Unwell

Kenny had never wanted to wrap someone in Teflon, lock them away from the world, and run away with them as much as he did Aaron right then.

Sitting next to him on the sofa in Jack’s living room, Aaron was barely there. A shadow of himself. A hollowed-out spectre of guilt and grief wrapped in silence. Mostly guilt. Kenny had seen this before. Had studied it. Written papers on it. Given fucking lectures on it. Survivors of traumatic events often wrestled with misplaced responsibility, an inflated sense of control over things they could never have stopped. Survivor’s guilt, cognitive distortion, self-directed blame. Aaron was cycling through them all. And Kenny could see it happening in real time.

Taylor wasn’t dead because of Aaron. Not really. But try telling that to the mind of someone who’d spent his entire life believing he carried the sins that came before him. And Kenny had seen Aaron rage, fight , refuse to be a victim, but he was now watching him collapse inward .

The worst of it? Kenny couldn’t even say I told you so.

Not about this .

Because this was the ripple effect. The video last year Taylor had naively put out into the world had caused this. The sensationalised claims that had spread like a disease across social media, turning Taylor into a name attached to a scandal rather than a person had been the catalyst. Kenny had known it would. Maybe he hadn’t predicted this exact outcome. Hadn’t foreseen that it would coax Child A from the shadows. Not when he’d believed she was safely confined to a psychiatric unit for the rest of her life. Hadn’t imagined it would give her access to a past she should never have found. But he’d known one thing for certain. Reckless narratives have consequences.

And now, that consequence was lying cold in a forensics lab, his last moments reduced to the fine details of cause of death and time of asphyxiation.

Yet people still didn’t fucking learn.

A shuffle in the doorway broke the suffocating silence. Fraser, looking as though he didn’t know what the hell had just landed on his doorstep, poked his head in. With a faded hoodie and shorts, he’d been mid-workout when they’d knocked on his door.

“Can I get either of you anything?” His voice was cautious, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the already fragile air in the room. “Tea. Coffee? Something stronger?”

Aaron didn’t even react.

Kenny swallowed the bitter lump in his throat. “Don’t suppose you have whisky?”

“I’m a Scot, Kenny. ‘Course I have fucking whisky. Ice?”

“No. Neat.”

Fraser nodded to Aaron. “For him?”

Kenny glimpsed the insular, ghost-like form Aaron had retreated into. The stillness wasn’t just grief. It was catatonia by self-preservation. He wasn’t spiralling outward, wasn’t raging, wasn’t throwing things or breaking down. He was folding in. Compressing into himself in a way Kenny had only ever seen in patients who’d run out of ways to cope. And for the first time in his life, Kenny—the psychologist, the profiler, the man who built his career on knowing what to say to pull people back from the brink—didn’t know how to reach him.

So he tried the only thing he could think of.

“Do you have JD by any chance?”

Fraser hesitated before nodding. “Sure.”

Aaron stirred, barely lifting his head just enough to mutter, “With Coke.”

Fraser exhaled a soft chuckle, as if it was a normal night, as if Aaron hadn’t just lost another person to the shadow of his past. “Pepsi Max okay?”

Aaron fell back onto the sofa with a dramatic groan, as if that was the straw that broke his back. “ No .”

“It’ll be fine.” Kenny nodded to Fraser.

“No, it fucking won’t.” Aaron dragged a hand down his face.

“I’ll nip out to the Londis.” Fraser was already stepping back. “Only a five-minute run.” He tapped his heels together as if they were Dorothy’s red shoes. What Kenny would give to have that ability. “Trainers already on.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Get a Crème Egg while you’re there?” Aaron called out.

Kenny turned to look at him, chest tightening. Even now, buried under crushing grief, guilt, and exhaustion, Aaron’s instinct had been to think of him. To reach for something that might bring Kenny even the smallest comfort. It would have been sweet if it wasn’t so heartbreaking. Because that wasn’t care for the sake of caring. It was Aaron, conditioned by a lifetime of instability, trying to prove his worth in the only way he knew how.

And that gutted Kenny far more than the loss they were grieving.

“Uh… sure.” Fraser scratched his head. “Although I think they might have stopped selling them.”

Aaron just nodded.

Kenny didn’t. He couldn’t .

Because that, right there, that split-second shift from craving comfort to accepting that there was none, was dangerous for Aaron. Even though it was something so very simple, it could be the moment he stopped expecting things to get better.

Fraser left, the front door clicking shut with quiet finality, and then it was just them.

Silence settled like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating, making every breath feel too loud, every shift of movement too intrusive. As if even existing in this moment required permission. Fraser brought a quiet normalcy to the situation, reminding them that life still went on, that not everything had to feel like an open wound. And Kenny understood now—understood why Jack had latched onto him, why he had fallen so completely, hopelessly, and in a way so differently from what had once been between them.

Because Fraser was uncomplicated.

He wasn’t tangled up in past wounds or unspoken trauma. Needed nothing beyond what he gave freely. He was just there. Offering comfort simply by existing.

Kenny wanted to do that. Wanted to know how . So he reached out, took Aaron’s hand, and forced him to look at him. When their eyes met, his heart twisted.

Aaron looked empty.

“I’m a bad omen.” Aaron turned their joined hands over, stroking through the fine hair on the back of Kenny’s hand.

“None of this is you.”

Aaron parted his lips in humourless laughter. “No? Rahul died because of me. Your mum died because of me. Taylor died because of me.”

“No.” Kenny shook his head. “They were murdered. And the only people responsible for that are their killers.”

Aaron’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, but his eyes stayed blank. “If I had helped her that day…”

Kenny knew who he meant. Knew exactly where his mind had gone.

But he wouldn’t let him drown in that.

“If you had, she would have still suffered severe consequences of her maltreatment.” Kenny kept his voice steady, analytical, tightening his grip on Aaron’s hand. Desperate to keep him here. With him. And not buried in the past that had unwittingly come loose in his head. “And it might have implicated you in that. Your mother might have turned her temper on you. Meaning you wouldn’t be here now.” He lifted their hands to his lips and kissed the back of Aaron’s. “With me.”

Aaron finally looked at him. Not past him. At him. And Kenny could see the hesitation. The want. The fear . Then, after an all-consuming beat, the question Kenny had been waiting for: “Do you still love me?”

Kenny’s chest ached .

He couldn’t let Aaron believe that his love was conditional.

So he twisted in the seat, sliding his hand along the side of Aaron’s neck, drew him in, and kissed him.

Soft. Firm. Absolute .

“You think I could just fall out of love with you that easy?”

Aaron gave the smallest, most fragile shrug. “No idea. Not got any frame of reference for this sort of thing.” He slumped his head back on the cushion. “Mum told me I’d suffocate anyone who tried to love me and, so far, two blokes have suffocated because of me. And one elderly woman. Your mum.” A bitter exhale. “Didn’t think she meant it literally.”

Kenny could have shattered.

He didn’t let himself.

Instead, he kissed Aaron again. Harder that time, more desperate, filled with every ounce of conviction Aaron had been denied his entire life.

“I love you.” Kenny rested his forehead on Aaron’s. “I’m so fucking in love with you, it’s part of me now. You’re in my blood, bones, every damn breath I take. There isn’t anything you could do, nothing you could say, that will change that. You are it for me. You, strangely, are the only thing I am certain of.”

Aaron gave a small, almost doubtful smile, and Kenny hated how Aaron didn’t know how to believe him.

He needed to believe him.

“But,” Kenny leaned back just enough to meet Aaron’s gaze, “we are going to talk about why you visited your mother.” He settled back on the sofa, fingers still tangled with Aaron’s. “And the implications that has on your mental health.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Yes, doctor.”

“I’m serious, Aaron.”

Aaron stilled.

Kenny turned to him. “I know you seek answers. I get it. Understand it more than you know. I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to untangle the human mind. Searching for cause and effect, for patterns in the chaos, for answers that might explain the inexplicable. And do you know what I’ve learned? It doesn’t make it hurt less.” He traced absent circles with his thumb over the back of Aaron’s hand. “Knowing why someone did something doesn’t take the pain away. We tell ourselves that if we just understand it, if we can break it apart and study every jagged piece, then maybe— maybe —it won’t feel so unbearable.” He exhaled, closing his eyes, “But it doesn’t work that way. And me being in love with you?” He opened his eyes. “Means I don’t want you drowning in that same lie. I don’t want you hurting just to find answers that won’t ever fix what’s already broken. I want you to hurt less . Not hurt at all . So if you have to do this, if you have to chase ghosts, just… let me do it with you. So you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Aaron blinked, just once, but Kenny saw the pain, the buried hurt, the part of him that still, despite everything, craved something from the woman who had never given him anything but scars.

“She will erode your self-worth,” Kenny said, quiet but certain. “And she does not care about you. She doesn’t know how to care about you. And that isn’t your fault. It isn’t even her fault. But for the love of all things still good in this world, let me show you what real love is.”

Aaron remained quiet. Stunned into silence. But he didn’t have time to respond as Fraser bundled in through the front door and into the living room, a bottle of real Coke under his arm along with a plastic bag dangling from his fingers, sweat pouring from his face.

“Okay, got the full fat stuff. ‘Fraid no Crème Eggs but they had this creme egg ice cream, so I got that. Fuck knows what it tastes like. But as we deep fry Mars bars up in Glasgow, I can’t really comment.” He dumped the items on the coffee table along with a share bag of Haribo Starmix, which he then grabbed. “Sorry, that’s for Jack.” He then stepped back. “I’ll get spoons and the drink.”

As Fraser dipped out, Aaron launched at Kenny and kissed him, fingers gripping the strands of his hair. But there was no time for anything else as Fraser came back with the glasses, spoons, JD and a bottle of Glenfiddich. He sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table and, after he poured all the drinks, Aaron stood.

“I need to sleep.”

“Uh…sure. Okay.” Fraser looked at Kenny. “I put you guys in the spare room. It’s all set. Bed changed. Excuse the walls, we’re mid decorating. Jack said you two were…okay to share a bed.”

“We are.” Kenny stood, then motioned for Aaron to go. He did, and Kenny grabbed the glass of whisky and downed it, dumping it back on the table. “Thanks for this. And sorry for…” He gestured to all the stuff on the coffee table. Apart from his whisky, none of it had been touched.

Fraser waved him off. “Don’t mention it, pal. I owe you, anyway.”

“You do?”

Fraser held his gaze. “I got my Jack back.”

Kenny smiled. “I’m glad. He’s a keeper. As are you.”

“You’ve got your hands full with that one.” Fraser nodded toward the door Aaron had disappeared through.

Kenny let out a breath caught between exhaustion and wry acceptance. “Lucky for me I like my hands full.”

Fraser snorted, but his expression sobered as he folded his arms. “Yeah, but what I mean is…take care of him . ”

Kenny sensed the shift.

“I’m no you, but I know a man standing on the edge when I see one. Used to run exercise programs for the force. Mostly off-duty officers dealing with PTSD. How I met Jack. I’ve seen what it does. The way it eats at them. Makes them reckless. Like they’ve already lost before the fight’s even started.” He jutted his chin toward the door. “And your boy? He’s in that place . ”

“Yeah.” Kenny pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know.”

And with that knowledge, Kenny said his goodnight and ascended the stairs, steps more sluggish than usual, the night settling deep into his bones. He found the spare room door ajar and pushed it open to find Aaron already buried beneath the duvet, body curled in on itself, a silent fortress of exhaustion and grief. So Kenny peeled off his clothes, careful to avoid the scattered remnants of Fraser and Jack’s decorating projects, and slipped beneath the covers. The second he did, Aaron latched onto him. As if something fundamental in him couldn’t stand the space between them.

They kissed, slow and unhurried, neither pushing for more. Skin against skin was enough. The reassurance of presence. Of touch. Aaron pulled away first, shifting just enough to rest his head on Kenny’s chest, tracing his fingers idly through the coarse hair.

Then, quietly, like a thought that had taken too long to form, “Who’s going to tell his mum?”

Kenny closed his eyes, then squeezed Aaron closer. “They’ll notify his local station, and they’ll send a family liaison officer to the house.”

Kenny felt the flutter of Aaron’s lashes over his skin.

“He’s got a sister,” Aaron said. “She’s eleven.”

Kenny didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. Instead, he pressed a kiss to the top of Aaron’s head, holding him closer, as if sheer proximity could shield him.

“I know he’s a prick.” Aaron closed his eyes. “But he didn’t deserve to die.”

“I know.”

“I’m not upset because I had feelings for him.” Aaron lifted his head, glass-blue eyes searching Kenny’s, looking for reassurance. Understanding. A flicker of desperation, as if Kenny might think otherwise. As if he needed to explain himself before the guilt took root.

Kenny ran a hand through Aaron’s hair, smoothing away worries that didn’t belong here. “Yeah. I know.” He kissed him. “He made a mistake. Several. But that doesn’t excuse murder.”

“They’ll find her, right?” Aaron fell back to Kenny’s chest. “Trace Taylor’s phone? Track her down?”

“That would be the logical procedure.”

“And when she’s arrested? Where will she go?”

“They’ll hold her at a secure facility until her court date. Any competent defence lawyer will claim diminished responsibility because of psychiatric illness, and she’ll be assessed. Most likely, she’ll be sentenced to a high-security hospital.”

Aaron’s fingers stilled. “The one she left?”

“That was for children.”

“Ravenholm?”

“Yes.”

Aaron propped up on one elbow, searching Kenny’s face in the dim light. “Then why was she released? If she’s this—this unhinged —why the fuck did they let her go?”

Kenny exhaled slowly. A good question. One he should have already asked. “I’ll be asking that tomorrow.”

“Will you be asking Dr Laura Pryce?”

Kenny smoothed a hand over Aaron’s back, coaxing him to settle into a place where this conversation didn’t exist between them right then. “Yes.”

“It’s weird, innit? Her stumbling on us in Barcelona. Then turning up at Ryston. Now all this.”

“I don’t believe it’s a coincidence, if that’s what you mean.”

“Is she involved?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Inadvertently. Or maybe she’s a player in a much bigger game we haven’t worked out yet.”

But he needed to find out.

And that was the problem.

He couldn’t afford to. Not yet. Not tonight . Not until he could protect Aaron from whatever answers were waiting in the dark. So he kissed him, light and sweet and careful. A pause. A distraction. A promise .

“But right now, it’s late,” he said against his lips. “Try get some sleep. Let the police do their work. And we’ll deal with whatever happens in the morning.” He dragged his nose down Aaron’s. “Together.”

Aaron didn’t argue, just twisted, pulling Kenny’s arms with him, draping them over his body as he tucked himself into Kenny’s side for a few moments of silence.

Then, “Do Jack and Fraser have kids?”

Kenny furrowed his brow. “No.”

“Huh. Do they have regular nieces and nephews over then?”

Kenny cracked his eyes open. “Jack’s an only child. Couldn’t speak for Fraser, but his family are in Scotland. Why?”

“There’s a load of baby toys in the bathroom. Thought it was a bit weird for two grown men.”

Kenny stilled.

Aaron waited a beat, then turned in his arms, peering up at him in the dim glow from the streetlights outside. “Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Kenny had to handle this carefully. “Do you think that’s weird?”

“That two grown arse men have rubber ducks, plastic boats and squeezy, squirting toys in their bath? Er…yeah.”

Kenny closed his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

Aaron didn’t. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Why would I know why they have baby toys?”

“I don’t know. Why would you know? But you fucking do .”

Kenny lifted his arm from around Aaron and rubbed his eyes. “Some people like to… relax in the bath,” he said carefully. “Go back to happier times. It helps them shed the stress of the day, especially if they’re in a high-demand, high-stress job.”

“Uh-huh.” Aaron slapped Kenny’s chest.

Kenny grabbed his wrist, fingers tight around his new watch, pressing Aaron’s palm flat against his heart. “Don’t slap me.”

“Then tell me. No secrets, remember? Tell each other everything, no more hiding, all out. What the fuck? Was that bullshit?”

“They aren’t my secrets to tell.”

Aaron’s voice dropped. “Is Jack a—”

Kenny sat up fast, clamping his hand over Aaron’s mouth before he could finish that sentence.

“You are in his house. Whatever you’re about to say, keep it fucking respectful.”

Aaron nodded, eyes wide. Slowly, Kenny eased his hand away.

Then, barely above a whisper, “Does Jack like to… be little ?”

Kenny fell back to the pillows. “Sometimes.”

Aaron stared at him, mouth agape, processing. Then, “Did you—”

“Aaron, baby, would you like me telling everyone how you like to be overpowered? How you like to be at my mercy? How you like me to threaten to strangle you while you come?”

Aaron shut up. Then after a moment, fell back down, resting his head on Kenny’s chest again.

Silence stretched.

Until Aaron broke it, sounding as though he was making excuses for himself.

“The strangle thing…that’s just…I like your hand on me. The feel of your fingers digging in. It’s possessive, right?”

Kenny hummed, dragging those fingers down Aaron’s spine. “Yes. And that, my love, borders ever so slightly into masochistic realms.” He kept his voice calm, assured, the profiler in him slipping through. “You like it because you relinquish all control to me. It means you can pass the responsibility of your orgasm to me. Which means you can let go.”

Aaron drummed his fingers against Kenny’s chest, restless, as if mulling all that over in his mind. Then, after a moment of his internal soul searching, he let out a soft, reluctant sigh. “Fuck you.”

Kenny chuckled, kissing the top of Aaron’s head. “No, baby. You like it when I fuck you .”

Aaron lifted his head, eyes flashing. Sharp. Untamed. Dangerous. That look, feral in its defiance, didn’t just steal the breath from Kenny’s lungs—it ignited something deeper. A slow, smouldering need to break him down, to strip away that wildness until Aaron was trembling beneath him. To prove him right.

To have Aaron begging for surrender.

“So…” Aaron bit his lip. “You do whatever your partner in bed wants?”

“Within reason, yes.”

“What about what you want?”

“What I want is for you to love every fucking second of it.”

Aaron was quiet for a long moment, then finally, “And the… daddy thing. Did you like that?”

Kenny stroked his nails down Aaron’s back to the bump of his arse, revelling in his skin erupting in goose pimples. “I liked what it did to Jack. It made him soft. Pliable. Feel safe. It was a joy—an honour —to be the person he gave that trust to. But it also came with consequences. And huge responsibility I wasn’t ready for.”

“In what way?”

Kenny traced gentle circles over Aaron’s shoulder with his fingertips. “He needed the caregiving to continue outside the bedroom. I wasn’t… very good at that back then.”

“Do you think Fraser…?”

“Fraser is a natural caregiver. They’re a perfect match.”

“And us?”

Kenny held his gaze. “We’re still working it out. Or, well, I’m still working you out.”

Aaron arched a brow. “And?”

Kenny hummed again, then rolled them both over to pin Aaron beneath him. “I enjoy working you out.” He dipped down, pressing his lips to Aaron’s throat, his favourite place to leave marks, and he licked a line over his tattoo. “Enjoy learning what gets you into that gooey, messy thing I crave.”

“Gooey, messy thing, huh? I ain’t a fucking Crème Egg.”

Kenny chuckled. “You are just us delicious.” He kissed him. “And you’ve been a gooey mess for me several times now. And I love it. You .”

Aaron let his knees fall apart, welcoming Kenny between his spread legs, already shifting into instinctive surrender. Kenny was hard, Aaron nearly there, and when Kenny nudged the swollen tip of his cock beneath Aaron’s balls, a sharp breath hitched between them.

Any other time, any other place, he’d already be inside him. And he wouldn’t rush. He’d sink deep, stay there, fully seated, locked inside Aaron’s heat, gazing into those wrecking, guarded eyes, pouring every unspoken word into him. Begging without a sound.

Let me in.

Not just into his body, but into his mind. His thoughts. His truths.

Even now, Kenny tried. Holding his gaze, willing him to crack under the weight of it, to spill those precious words from his untamed, secretive lips.

He needed it.

Craved it like breath.

Aaron grabbed his face and kissed him. “I love you.”

Kenny smiled. Mission accomplished.

“I love you too, baby.”