Page 9

chapter eight

I Only Lie When I Love You

For the first time ever, Aaron woke first.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, draping the room in a golden glow. It was warm. A bit too warm. And Aaron shifted, glancing behind him at Kenny, still there, still wrapped around him, loose but present, as if even in sleep he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

Aaron’s heart twisted. Kenny looked so vulnerable, so undone in a way Aaron had never seen before. A man who was always composed, always in control, now stripped of every carefully constructed layer, left raw in the drowsy morning light. Kenny rarely relinquished control, but last night had broken something in him. His grip hadn’t loosened all night, only softened as exhaustion dragged him into a deep, comatose sleep.

Aaron ran his fingertips along Kenny’s arm, the fine hairs tingling his skin. He wanted to do something— anything —to take Kenny’s pain away. To shoulder some of it. Absorb even a fraction of the burden. But what could he offer? Who the fuck was he to even try?

Aaron’s stomach churned with self-doubt. He wished he knew the right words. Wished he could fix this. Instead, he was just… here. Saying nothing. Letting Kenny use him. Fuck him. Cling to him. Fall apart on him. And he didn’t mind—not really—but it made him feel helpless. Merely a placeholder when he wanted to be the solution .

Would he ever be Kenny’s solution? The answer to his fears?

Aaron snorted. As if he was anything other than Kenny’s problem .

Coming back here had been a gamble. He’d listened to everything Mel had said. About giving Kenny time. Waiting for Kenny to come to him when he was ready. She hadn’t used names, of course, but the advice had been clear. Be patient. Don’t push. But the thought of waiting days, weeks—fuck, months —had left Aaron spiralling. He wasn’t built for waiting. The ache of uncertainty gnawed at him, carving out hollow spaces he couldn’t fill on his own.

So, after he’d finally ushered Mel back to her room, Aaron had snuck out. He’d walked back to Kenny’s, expecting— hoping —to find him home. The sight of the empty driveway had been a kind of relief, a minor victory. No car meant Kenny wasn’t inside barricading himself away. Choosing not to answer his text. Wanting to be alone. Not wanting Aaron to be there at all.

Letting himself in, he’d waited in the living room for a while, pacing, restless. Then, when the silence grew too heavy to bear, he’d crept upstairs into Kenny’s bed.

Now, lying there with Kenny’s arms still loosely draped around him, Aaron realised he hadn’t expected to see Kenny like this. Soft, unguarded, his grief etched into every line of his face, even in sleep. He thought about what he could do other than just be here. What did Kenny do when Aaron was falling apart?

Careful not to wake him, Aaron slipped from his grasp and eased out of the bed. Kenny hardly stirred, apart from shifting deeper into the warm imprint Aaron had left on his side. Aaron snorted. His side. Listen to him. Thinking he’d staked some sort of claim on it. But as he pulled on his boxers, he realised with startling clarity that he had staked a claim. That was his side of the bed. Pity anyone who tried to take it from him.

Like a cat with their prey, Aaron would cling onto it. To Kenny.

And he had sharp claws with a feral attitude.

He crept out of the room and padded downstairs, heading straight for the kitchen. His thoughts raced as he switched on the light, the soft hum of the fridge filling the silence. Kenny needed to eat. He needed energy if he was going to get through the mess of everything he had to handle for his mum. So he opened the fridge.

Then slammed it shut.

“Bollocks.”

Empty. Barely a few condiments and some wilted greens left over from God-knew-when. Kenny hadn’t stocked up before they’d left for Barcelona. Aaron sighed, running a hand through his hair. No breakfast. No milk for tea. Nothing that could remotely pass as sustenance. He then noted the sleek coffee machine, its shiny buttons and minimalist design. Kenny drank espresso, right? That didn’t need milk. So, where the fuck did the cup go? Aaron poked at the machine cautiously, pulling levers, opening compartments, peering into the spaces as if the answer would materialise. When nothing happened, he smacked the counter in frustration.

This could not be that hard. He couldn’t let a stupid piece of technology defeat him. Not when all he wanted was to do something, anything , for his boyfriend who’d just lost his mother and needed one tiny piece of his day to go right. Aaron froze, his chest tightening as the word formed in his mind.

Boyfriend.

It felt too small, too insignificant, too juvenile for what Kenny meant to him. Lover? No. That felt clumsy, hollow, like it cheapened what they had. Though he used it, it was only ever in bed.

So what was Kenny to him?

Everything .

Aaron exhaled at the revelation. To shove it away, he went back to the machine, pressing buttons, opening cupboards, slamming them again. His frustration mounted, and he punched the counter with more force, then slapped the machine. “Fuck off, you fucking piece of fucking—”

Warm arms slipped around his waist, pulling him back onto a solid chest. Lips, rough with stubble but impossibly soft, ghosted his bare shoulder. “Please don’t break it. That’s my emotional support coffee machine.”

“Fuck your feelings. I have feelings.” Aaron slapped it. “And no fucking tin can will outsmart me.”

Kenny kissed Aaron’s shoulder and Aaron closed his eyes, sinking into Kenny before realising he wasn’t supposed to be the one doing that, so he twisted in his arms.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up yet.”

Kenny brushed his forehead to Aaron’s, sliding his arms around to his arse. “Because all that noise you were making was supposed to lull me to sleep?”

“If that thing wasn’t such a prissy bitch, I’d be bringing you coffee in bed.”

“Thank you, but move over and I’ll do it.”

Aaron sighed and stepped to his side, watching how, with ease, Kenny, in just a pair of pyjama bottoms, brought the machine to life.

“I wanted to do something for you.” Aaron folded his arms in a sulk.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“But I want to.” Aaron got into his line of sight. “I have no fucking clue what else to do, least I can do is make you coffee.”

“Except you can’t.”

“Fuck you.”

Kenny chuckled, and the machine gurgled out the perfect black liquid into a cup. “You don’t need to do anything,” he said with more conviction that time, but he was avoiding eye contact and Aaron sensed something other than coffee brewing beneath the surface. As Kenny took the cup, he hovered it to his lips and finally looked at Aaron.

Aaron titled his neck. “Are you…okay?”

“No.” At least he was honest with him about that, but he still took a sip of coffee to stop himself from uttering anything else. Until, “But I will be.”

“How did she die?”

Kenny moved away to the other side of the kitchen. “Can we…not.”

Aaron watched him for a moment, hackles raised. But he waited.

“I’m sorry.” Kenny rubbed his forehead as if wiping away a dull ache. “I’m just not going to be very…conversational for a while.”

“Cool with me.” Aaron crossed one ankle over the other. “I’m fucking shit at talking. Bet Dr Riley told you that in her diagnosis notes.”

“I already know that from my own notes.”

“Do I get to read these notes?”

“Absolutely not.”

Aaron snorted.

Kenny sank into a chair at the dining table, clutching the espresso cup in both hands, and gazed out of the full-length windows to the garden, where a pair of sparrows flitted around the bird table, pecking at the scraps left behind

“Do you want me to go?” Aaron asked him with careful tact.

Kenny hung his head, staring into the dark abyss of espresso coffee and Aaron’s gut clenched, ready to take the rejection. Ready to accept it. Deal with it. Understand that if Kenny didn’t want him here, it had nothing at all to do with him and all to do with everything else he was dealing with.

Wouldn’t make it hurt less, but he’d take it.

The way he’d taken every rejection and brutal punch to the face before.

“No,” Kenny finally said, then looked up at him, eyes filled with pain. “I don’t. But I do have a lot of stuff to process. Plus the new start to the year. My professorship meeting…I should prepare for that right now but with mum…” He tilted his neck. “I don’t want you to worry that I’m ignoring you intentionally.”

“Are you saying I’ve got, like, attachment issues? A fragile sense of self-worth?” Aaron made a pfft sound, waving him off. “Chill, bruh. I’m totally easy breezy. Flaky as fuck.”

Kenny breathed out a smile.

Aaron watched him for a moment, then shook off his unrest. “You don’t have to worry about me when you’re the one dealing with…what you’re dealing with.”

“But if I don’t worry about you, then I’ll have to deal with what I’m dealing with. And if I’m honest, I really don’t want to and you’re a very good distraction.”

Aaron stalked out from the kitchen and crossed to where Kenny sat at the dining table, gliding his arms around Kenny’s shoulders. He held him from behind, dipping down, sweeping his cheek into Kenny’s hair as he stroked Kenny’s chest.

“I’m sorry I’m not better at this,” Aaron whispered into his ear.

“You’re doing just fine.” Kenny lifted Aaron’s hand and kissed the underside of his wrist, lips soft against his pulse. “Better than fine.”

Aaron kissed Kenny’s neck for a while, unsure what else he could do. If Kenny wanted a distraction, he could do that. Then he noticed the folded piece of paper on the middle of the table, Dr Lyons’s Shopping List written in cursive swirls on the front. He leaned over and snatched it.

“How about I go do this?” Aaron opened the note, scanning over the list of things Kenny’s cleaner had written for him to buy.

“You don’t have to do my shopping. I can order it in. That’s why she writes it.”

“You won’t get an order today and I need milk. So I’ll go do this while you…chill. Or do whatever it is you need to do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Course. Could use a walk. Get out of the way for a bit.”

Kenny scrubbed a hand down his face. “Okay. Thanks. That would be helpful.” He angled his head toward the doorway. “Take my card.”

“I don’t need your card. I can pay for this.” Aaron checked through the list, all written in fancy writing as top-notch as the items screaming from Waitrose . He wasn’t sure he could pay for it all. His loan hadn’t come in yet. And his wages from the campus shop job had gone on various bits and pieces in Barcelona. He had a shift tomorrow, Sunday, but he wouldn’t get paid for that until the end of the month. But Mel’s sugar daddy comment still gripped him harder than it should have.

“You’re a student, Aaron.” Kenny cut into his thoughts. “And I’ll bet your loan hasn’t even reached your bank yet. Take my card. It’s probably still in my wallet, which is in the case by the door.”

“For someone who knows a lot about criminal behaviour, you are exceptionally lax with where you put important things in your house.”

“Like my spare keys?”

Aaron winced. “I’ll go get dressed.”

* * * *

A short while later, Aaron headed to the nearest supermarket on foot. He still couldn’t drive, so he was stuck with having to walk. Fuck Kenny and his need for the better shit from Waitrose. That was the other side of town, and Aaron wasn’t getting on a bus. Tesco was only a mile away, so he went there. And he wandered the aisles, checking the list his cleaner had written, which was mostly cleaning products so she could, well, clean, Aaron supposed. Food, he guessed, he’d have to figure out himself.

Clutching the basket, he went straight for the essentials. Bread. Milk. He checked the confectionary aisle to see if they had any Crème Eggs leftover. Sadly not. So he moved onto the cleaning aisle and took out the note to check through what he needed so Kenny wouldn’t live in squalor while he sorted out his life. As he rounded the corner, he stopped dead, cursing under his breath. He went to turn away, but it was too late.

“Aaron?”

Aaron turned back. Faked a smile. “Taylor.”

Taylor looked different. He didn’t suppose even Taylor, who prided himself on not having a hair out of place, got dolled up for grocery shopping. But since the whole mess of last year, Taylor had shown his flaws and Aaron now could only see the cracked edges rather than the polished guise he had when he cruised the campus. Although Taylor hadn’t been on campus all year. He’d been at his placement. And, thus, out of Aaron’s way. Apart from the brief talk after all the mess, Aaron hadn’t seen him.

Until right then.

Taylor held up his basket full of cleaning products. “Max and George graduated, so they’re moving back home. We have to clean the place. For the landlord to check it.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“I’m staying there though. Have viewings for new house mates for final year coming up.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If it’s a mess, Max and George won’t get their deposit back.”

“Better check all their cubby holes for loose drugs or unconscious bodies then.”

The words fell out before he could stop them. A dig he couldn’t resist, even if it was unnecessary. Maybe the whole thing was water under the bridge now. They’d talked it through, and Taylor had kept Aaron’s secret, knowing who he was. And maybe his selfish act had been the catalyst that pushed him back toward Kenny. But it didn’t matter. The wound was still raw, the memory a thorn he couldn’t pluck free. Things could’ve been different if Taylor hadn’t been so desperate to prove how big his dick was. If he hadn’t let his housemates drug him. If he hadn’t been so willing to sacrifice Aaron’s trust for a quick and selfish thrill, they might have been friends. The betrayal still clung to him like a stain he couldn’t scrub clean, no matter how much time had passed. Nor with any of the products currently in Taylor’s basket and burning a hole through the note in Aaron’s hand.

“We learnt our lesson,” Taylor said.

Aaron said nothing.

Taylor snorted, obviously picking up on Aaron’s lack of a response

“How’s things with you?” Although not enough to actually stop speaking.

“Fine. Same as.”

“You look tanned. You been away?”

“Barcelona.”

“Nice. Who’d you go with?”

Aaron waited a moment, then thought he had to give Taylor something. He’d find out through Mel, anyway. “Bloke I’m seeing.”

“Right. Yeah.” Taylor stepped back. “Course.” He bowed his head. “Was good to see you. You look…good.” He went to walk away and Aaron had a sudden pang of guilt. Or not so much guilt, but a realisation he needed someone who was vaguely normal to ask for some advice.

“Taylor?”

Taylor turned back. “Yeah?”

“If your mum had died when we were…y’know?”

“Sleeping together?”

“Yeah. What would you want from me?”

Taylor furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You know I’m not good at…relationship shit. So if your mum had died unexpectedly, what is it you’d want me to do to make you feel better? Or show that I care.”

“ Do you care?”

“Yes.”

“New bloke got more than I did, then.”

Aaron exhaled. “Forget it.” He turned back to the note, scanning the items. Bleach. Polish. Leather wipes. Who knew there were wipes especially for leather? And as Kenny’s sofa was fabric, Aaron wandered what Kenny had in the way of leather that needed wiping clean…

“I’d want to know you were there if I needed you.” Taylor’s voice sailed over Aaron’s musings of whether there was more to Kenny’s sex kinks than he knew of.

“How do I show that?”

“You could say it.”

“Right. Cheers.” Aaron scanned the aisle for the bleach, mulling that over.

“Or you could cook him dinner.” Taylor drifted closer. “I’d’ve liked that. Doesn’t have to be a fancy meal. Fish fingers would do. Just something to say you give a fuck whether I ate or not.”

Aaron nodded. “Yeah. Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that.”

Taylor sidled up, gaze landing on the note Aaron held. “Fancy handwriting. That yours?”

“No.” Aaron folded the note almost instinctively, panic surging as he realised the problem wasn’t the list of cleaning products. It was the words on the front: Dr Lyons’s Shopping List .

Fuck.

Aaron crumpled the paper in his hand, but Taylor’s knowing snort cut through the air. “Never had a chance against him, did I? Were you fucking him the whole time you were with me?”

Aaron said nothing, but his silence would be loud enough. Even if it wasn’t true. Aaron hadn’t cheated on Taylor. Certainly not with Kenny. Not physically, anyway. Kenny had stolen his heart way before Taylor had even been in his orbit. He couldn’t apologise for that. It wasn’t his fault. He was merely a victim of a crime.

“You know what?” Taylor edged back. “Changed my mind. Best thing you can do is leave him the fuck alone. You sort of have a habit of making things worse.”

Aaron clenched his fist, heart pounding.

“See you around, Aaron fucking Jones .”

Taylor walked away before Aaron could even think of a response, or throw a much needed, cathartic punch, leaving him standing in the aisle, eyes closed as he cursed under his breath. Sloppy. He was getting sloppy. Or maybe his subconscious was screaming to be heard, desperate to let the world know. But Kenny wouldn’t be pleased to find out that a man Aaron had dismissed like a pesky fly, who then subsequently uploaded a sensationalised video drawing attention to the potential of a Howell kid committing new murders, now knew their secret. But, in a way, Taylor had done him a favour. Not only did it push him into the arms of Kenny, it also alerted him to the fact he had a sister out there somewhere.

One he was desperately trying to find yet was getting nowhere.

Shaking off the unease, Aaron grabbed the cleaning supplies from the shelf and threw them into the basket, adding a few ingredients for dinner. Then he paid and walked back to Kenny’s. As he let himself in, Kenny’s voice coming from the kitchen, loud, clipped, and unmistakably angry, startled him.

“I don’t fucking care if I’m not authorised! I need to know where she went. Who has that information? And I need to know yesterday !”

Aaron edged into the kitchen cautiously. Kenny was leaning beside the counter, phone pressed to his ear, hair dishevelled, eyes dark with something far more volatile than grief. When Kenny noticed him, he tensed.

“I have to go.” He cut the call. “Hey.”

“You all right?” Aaron dumped the plastic carrier bag on the counter.

“Yeah,” Kenny said reflexively, before correcting himself. “Well… no. But…” He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. “Did you get everything?”

“Yeah.” Aaron unpacked the bag, his tone light and casual as he tried to cut through the tension. “And I’m cooking for you tonight. The top-rated meal from Rainbow House, twenty-twenty-four.” He tossed a packet of spaghetti around in his hand and caught it with a grin. “Spag bol.”

Kenny’s body seemed to shrink into the floor tiles. “Sounds good. Thank you.”

“Who was on the phone?”

Kenny glanced at the mobile in his hand like he hadn’t realised he was still holding it. “Oh… nothing. Work stuff.” He dumped his mobile on the counter.

It was a lie. Aaron knew it.

“I’m going to have to shut myself in my office for a bit.”

“Okay.”

“Anything I need to know before I do?”

Aaron bit his lip. “They stopped selling Crème Eggs.” He could lie just as well as Kenny could. Not about the Crème Eggs. That was true. He’d be feeding Kenny one now if they had any. But about keeping the Taylor stuff under wraps. It was just another little thing he kept to himself. Like his visits to his mum in prison. Like his Subject Access Request to find his sister.

Kenny tutted. “Bastards.”

Aaron snorted. “And I’ll have to go back to my room at some point today. Mel’s moved in next door and with the first-years moving in later today, she’ll need some help dealing with that.”

“Right.”

“Maybe after dinner. I’ll tell her I got a warehouse job or something.”

“You’re good at lying.”

Aaron held his gaze. “Not the only one.”

Kenny said nothing.

“I’ve also got a shift at the shop tomorrow, so I’ll be there. And then, I guess, Monday…” was his twenty-first birthday and the first start to term. Back to normal. “I’ll be sat in your class.”

The tension thickened. Aaron braced himself as Kenny’s lips parted as though he was about to say something. Something that might shatter his heart like glass. But he stopped himself. And Aaron wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved. Not that he had time because, in one abrupt movement, Kenny stepped forward, closing the space between them, and cupped Aaron’s face to kiss him, as if he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. When he pulled away, his hands lingered for a beat before he stumbled back.

Then his phone rang on the kitchen surface and Aaron glimpsed the screen before Kenny could cover it with his hand. Jack .

“I have to take this.” Kenny grabbed it and stalked out of the kitchen.

His harried footsteps rushing up the stairs had Aaron’s frustration bubbling, sharp and bitter, threatening to spill over. He hated this. Why was it just when things were going somewhere, something had to ruin it? It was as if the world was hellbent on making him pay for everything. As though he didn’t deserve happiness. Was he forever destined to repent for who he was? And why would Kenny happily speak to DI Jack Bellend rather than to him?

He gripped the packet of spaghetti, anger spiking, and the fragile strands snapped in half with a loud, unsatisfying crack, breaking the pasta within the plastic.

Maybe Taylor was right.

The best thing he could do was fuck off.

So he stalked to the hallway where Kenny’s muffled voice drifted faintly down the stairs. The words were indistinct, but the tone was sharp, frustrated. Aaron knew Kenny was dealing with more than he was letting on.

And Jack Bentley knew what it was.