Chapter Fifteen Stay With Me #2
Ashleigh Doe found on the twenty-first of December in a disused chapel on the outskirts of Glasgow city centre.
Dressed in a red wool coat, hands folded neatly beneath his chin as if in prayer.
A peppermint sweet placed in his palm. A child’s wig lay beside his head, carefully folded.
There were no signs of struggle, no ligature marks.
Toxicology was inconclusive, though the coroner had speculated about a sedative or unusual drug interaction.
Cause of death listed as unconfirmed but likely peaceful.
The scene had been mistaken as a suicide or overdose, results of a high-risk lifestyle, and the investigation quietly dropped.
Never officially identified. Listed as Ashleigh Doe.
No missing person report matched. Stitched inside the coat lining was the name Ashleigh.
It hadn’t looked like a murder. Not to anyone but Kenny.
No one had cared, either.
Kenny did.
He hit print, and the little floor printer whirred to life, spitting out page after page. Reports, photos, old case notes. Grainy and half-forgotten. He collected the sheets, warm and curling at the edges, then carried them to the dining table.
There, already spread out, were the other victims. Maps, timelines, victim profiles annotated in his tight, looping scrawl. He laid the new pages beside them, then leaned over the mess of paper, bracing his weight on his forearms, scratching one hand through his beard as he read.
Outside, snow tapped at the windows.
Inside, Kenny’s mind was already halfway into the killer’s head.
Until warmth bloomed across his back and the scent of sleep and sex and something uniquely Aaron wrapped around him, arms sneaking beneath his own to pull Kenny back to a bare chest.
“You left me.” Aaron sulked.
Kenny didn’t need to turn around to see the pout. It was there in the way his bare chest pressed to his spine, duvet cocooning them both. He smiled, reaching one hand back to stroke up Aaron’s thigh to the curve of his hip.
“I left you to sleep.”
“You left me defenceless. Traumatised. Cold.” Aaron kissed the back of Kenny’s neck, that sensitive spot under the hairline. “That’s emotional abandonment, lover.”
Kenny turned to glimpse bedhead and mischief. He slid his hands over Aaron’s bare arse, massaging lightly as the duvet slipped from his shoulders leaving him naked and exposed. “You were dead to the world. Multiple orgasms will do that.”
Aaron groaned, then bit Kenny’s neck. “That was last night. I’m practically reborn now. Could go again.”
“You’re practically jelly. You need rest.”
“Don’t tell me what I need.” There was no bite to it.
Kenny arched a brow. Then, calmly, confidently, he gripped Aaron’s cock.
Aaron hissed, batting him off. “Jesus. Give it a minute.”
“You need more than a minute. You need tea. Toast. Possibly a bath and an exorcism.”
“You’re such a smug bastard.”
Kenny grinned and kissed his temple. “Go lie on the sofa in your duvet burrito. I’ll bring you breakfast.”
Aaron glanced over at Chaos. “I should walk him.”
“He’s already walked.”
“Fucking hell. You really are trying to trophy top your way into my affections.”
“Thank you. Now go sit your sore arse down.”
Aaron pulled away with exaggerated effort, grabbing the duvet from the floor and shuffling towards the living room like a grumbling duchess wrapped in ten pounds of bedding. Then he paused, drifting his gaze to the table, where the photos and police files spread out.
Kenny watched the shift in him. The flicker of something quieter.
“Are there more?” Aaron asked.
“Not currently. I did a deep dive yesterday. Found a case in Glasgow. Jack sent me the file.”
“You spoke to Bellend?”
“Do you call him that in your secret WhatsApp group?”
“Yes.” Aaron cocked his head. “You jealous? You want in? Don’t panic, we don’t compare your performance. It’s mostly gifs and complaints. The only thing worthwhile that’s ever come out of that is that scone recipe.”
Kenny breathed out a smile. “Go. Duvet. Sofa. I’ll bring the tea and toast.”
“Praise kink and carbs. You really are trying to ruin me.”
“Too late.”
Kenny watched him go, slow-footed and warm, skin kissed with colour and eyes glassy with the last vestiges of sleep and surrender.
Wrecked. Ruined. Wonderfully his. But he gave Aaron a moment, enough for him to settle under the duvet on the sofa, limbs slack and weak, then wandered to the kitchen.
The kettle clicked on, steam coiling up in lazy spirals as the snowstorm howled against the old sash windows.
Outside, the island had vanished beneath a peaceful, glistening blanket of white.
Kenny unplugged his phone and noticed the message.
Margaret Harrow. College closed. Unsafe travel. All classes cancelled.
He smiled, a slow curl of satisfaction. It wasn’t a blizzard and perhaps back in Ryston, they’d have gritted the roads to ensure everyone got in.
But he was thankful for the reprieve. No need to suit up and perform for a half-asleep classroom today all ready to start their Christmas break.
The island had decided. He could stay home.
Be here. So he made the tea the way Aaron liked it.
Pasted a thick load of sweet strawberry jam on artisan toast, then brought it all to him and knelt beside the sofa, placing it within easy reach on the coffee table.
Aaron blinked up at him, cocooned and wary.
“It’s snowing,” Kenny said.
Aaron narrowed his eyes, pulling the duvet higher. “Not falling for that again.”
Kenny chuckled. “No, really. Full storm. College is shut. I get to stay home and torment you properly.” He leaned into kiss him, then nudged the plate towards him.
Aaron wriggled up to grab the plate and Kenny sidled by his curled legs.
He watched. Waited. Didn’t fill the silence.
That wasn’t his method. He observed. Calibrated.
Noted the slump of Aaron’s shoulders, how his hand hovered near the toast without picking it up.
Eyes not glazed, but distant. Protective withdrawal.
Kenny adjusted. “You don’t have work today. I’d already checked.” Of course he had. He wouldn’t have attempted last night believing Aaron had to get up and function the next day. So he’d checked their shared calendar hanging in the kitchen where Aaron had scribbled his shifts on.
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 been loving you.”
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.
I always am. 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 be made 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.”