26. Kenny
Kenny
I could stay here forever. My eyes threaten to close of their own volition, but I force them to stay open. I don’t want to sleep, not yet.
Not when it feels like I just woke up.
Jake’s breathing is steady, small huffs that brush over my hair as he holds me quietly. I twist to glance up at him. “You’re quiet.”
He blows out a breath. His thumb brushes against my stomach as his eyes lower, his words quiet enough that I lean in to listen. “I’m trying to believe that you’re really here, Ken.”
I lean my cheek to his chest, breathing in the scent of clean laundry. “You and me both.”
Then I straighten again, my head banging against his chin. Jake watches as I turn, baring my teeth at him.
“—Ooh ah ill av onca ee?”
To his credit, he makes a valiant effort at deciphering my garbled words. “Uh. Something about conkers?”
I close my mouth and point. “Do I still have monster teeth? Fangs?”
“You do.” He’s still stroking my stomach. When my face falls, his lip twitches. “You’ll do great with steak, though.”
For a moment, I blink at his matter-of-fact words. The snort of amusement that slips out takes us both by surprise. “Guess I will.”
The more I talk, the more aware I feel. And as I glance down, my lip twists in disgust. “I need to shower.”
It feels as if a year’s worth of filth coats my skin. The urge becomes nearly overwhelming, and I scramble off Jake’s lap. He and Max both rise with me.
I look between them. My cheeks heat. “Ah. Is this something – have you been…?”
“No.” Max’s eyes widen. “God, no, Ken. Not without your permission.”
“The Center staff come in regularly,” Jake says softly. “They looked after you. We tried to do as much as we could without invading your privacy.”
I can feel Theo’s eyes on me. Avoiding his gaze, I shuffle back, toward the doorway. “So you won’t look?”
Both of them shake their heads.
“Want us to leave?” Max offers. “We can step out.”
“No.” It slips out a little too quickly, and I flap my hand. “Just… stay.”
Okay.
This isn’t the bathroom I saw in the brochure. That one had tiles, and a cute fluffy mat.
This one smells like steel and cheap bleach. A bit like death, if I had to think about it. Chemicals and hopelessness. I eye the bolted-down toilet warily, trying not to think about my bathroom arrangements for the last year.
Whoever emptied that out, I’m sorry. They probably don’t pay you enough.
Moving on from that little humiliation, I spend a few minutes fixing myself up, glancing at the door every few seconds. Something in my chest twists. An unhappy sound echoes in my throat, and I frown, sucking that particular noise back down.
I… don’t like them being out of sight.
Grow up, Kennedy.
Biting my lip, I wash my hands and assess the bath. There’s no shower, only a steel tub, and I stare at it for a minute. Longer.
“Ken?” Jumping, I turn. Jake glances through the open doorway. His blue eyes seem to see a little too much when they land on me, softening. “You want some help?”
My nod is slow. I watch as he moves inside. “How did you know?”
“Theo,” he murmurs. Ducking past me, he flicks on the faucet. “He… felt something. Asked me to check.”
Oh. My cheeks flare. “Right. The bitemark.”
The unwanted, forced half-bonding mark.
Look at us, locked in a never-ending trauma cycle.
Jake glances at me. “Don’t you worry about it. He’s fine, Ken. He’s just worried about you.”
I bite down on my lip, hugging my arms as the tub starts to fill. “This all feels… surreal.”
“I bet,” he says softly, not looking at me. He dips his finger in the water, swilling it to test the temperature. His words are a little too casual. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not right now.” I shift a little bit closer. “But thank you.”
“You can.” He straightens. “Don’t ever thank me, Ken. You’re not an inconvenience.”
I’m starting to wonder. Jake takes a step toward the door.
“Don’t go.” The words rush out, a little frantic, and he swivels. His eyes flit between me and the tub. Uncertain.
“Get me something to wear?” I bite down on my lip again. It’s getting a workout. “I’ll wear something in there. And something for after? If… if that’s okay?”
“Yeah.” He looks relieved. I wait for him to come back. His cheeks darken as he hands over a shirt. “That’s mine. That okay? I found some pyjamas of yours in there too.”
The suspicion grows as he turns around. Quickly, I shuck off the horrible grey set, pulling his shirt over my head. Jake turns around right as I’m burying my nose in the neckline. I yank it away as my face lights on fire. “Sorry.”
“No apologies, either.” God, he’s so close. And he has grown. All four of them seem to have had a massive growth spurt. My neck almost gets a crick looking up at him. “You do whatever you need to do, Kenny. Okay?”
I waver. And then—
I step forward. Jake sucks in a breath, but he doesn’t say anything as I lean in, pressing my nose to his chest and inhaling his fresh, clean scent.
Better. Direct source .
He hums lightly. His chest…moves.
My brows knot as I mumble against the cotton of his shirt. “Are you—,”
Purring. He’s purring.
I’ve never heard an alpha purr. But my entire body relaxes at the deep, thrumming sound, folding into him as his arms close around me. It's almost like a deep bass, reverberating into my muscles, softening them until I’m barely more than a limp noodle and he’s holding me up.
I could get used to this.
His hand strokes over my hair. “Ken.”
“Mmm.”
“You want me to wash your hair?” There’s a smile in his words. “Or we can stay here. Either works for me.”
I try – I really try – to stand up. But my legs feel like jelly.
One moment, I’m sliding—
And then I’m airborne. My head lolls against his chest sleepily as Jake carefully lifts me into the bath. Hot water soaks into my bones. “That feels like heaven.”
He keeps his arm behind me, keeping my back from touching the hard metal as I blink at him. “You’re going to spoil me.”
He almost smiles, but it fades. Color flares in his cheeks. “This is… this is bare minimum, Ken. But I like looking after you.”
Is it?
“I’m glad.” My yawn almost swallows his face. “Sorry.”
The water comes up over my chest, soaking his tee. Jake glances down. Once. And then he’s staring at the ceiling, his words strangled. “I didn’t think.”
“What?” I peer down. “Oh. Wow.”
Yeah, those are my breasts . My nipple nearly pokes me in the eye. “Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” he grits out. “I just… I don’t know where to look.”
Not at me, clearly. Not that I want him to. But a little flicker of hurt still echoes as I fold my arms over my chest. “It’s safe to come down now.”
He gently flicks my nose in response to my grumpy words. “Not funny.”
When I don’t say anything, he tucks his finger under my chin, tilting it up. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
My lip actually wobbles. I half-shrug. “Nothing.”
“Kenny.”
“I… don’t know.” The back of my eyes burn. “Everything just feels a little overwhelming.”
His hand carefully wipes away the moisture that drips from my eyes, but it makes it worse. “Understandable. How can we make it less overwhelming? Is there anything?”
The lump in my throat grows as I shake my head. “Don’t… don’t go.”
I hate how pathetic I sound. But he doesn’t blink. “Done. I’m not going anywhere. Should I wash your hair? We can get you out, get you some blankets. Maybe a hot drink.”
“Yes please,” I whisper.
His touch is soothing. Just on the right side of heavy. Petting, almost. I feel every movement as he nudges my head back, holding my neck with one hand as he pours warm water over my scalp from a metal jug. His fingers dig in as he massages my scalp with shampoo in circular movements, and I feel my eyelids flutter. “It’s okay to close your eyes.”
“If I close my eyes, I’ll sleep.” Another yawn overtakes me.
“You can sleep. I’ll wake you when I’m done.”
I don’t think I can fight it anymore. I’m so warm. Comfortable. Exhausted. “Kay.”
A moment later, hands lift me again. I burrow into his scent, grumbling.
“Gotta get changed. You can’t stay like this.” He nudges me upright until I focus enough to pull off the wet shirt, hearing it thud on the floor. “Kenny. Baby. Clean shirt.”
“Put it on,” I mumble. “You already saw my nipples.”
“I didn’t look.” But he eases a new, warm shirt over my head, bundling me into it effortlessly despite my noodle arms flopping. This one smells like ginger and cayenne pepper. Spicy. Oscar. “There we go. Blankets and bed, okay? I’ll brush your hair out first.”
“And Jake,” I mutter. That’s important.
Maybe he says something else.
But I’m already gone.