He nods slowly. “Yeah, you got the blowup mattress?”
He holds up the bag.
“You two okay to sleep with the moms?” I ask. “Should more of us stay here?”
“We’re good,” Charlie assures me, sounding exhausted.
“You know Levy and I are here to help where we can.”
“Tell you what, we’ll give him a few days to recover first.”
I snort, grateful that I can. “Good call.”
Nacho and I wave as Charlie and Justin head out the door.
“Tonight sucked,” Nacho says, touching his forehead to mine, his weight on my lap a comfort.
“Yes, it did.”
“You killed two people. Are you okay?”
“Nope, though I kinda regret losing my cool more than killing them. Does that make me a bad person?”
Nacho laughs and adjusts on top of me.
“Dr. Barlowe, you’re fucking a former patient. If anything,that’swhat makes you a bad person. Killing a pregnancy trafficker…I think you’re in the clear.”
“It’s a little thing I like to call balance,” I say, my attempt at humor falling flat.
Nacho trails his fingertips over my worried brows. “You got a halfway decent shower back at the bunkhouse?”
“Big enough for both of us,” I answer, running my fingers through his hair.
“Just make sure not to fuck too loudly because thatwillput me in therapy for the rest of my life,” Levy cracks, gingerly making his way into the living room, flanked by Hopper and Anders.
“Should you be up and walking?” I ask, checking with Anders.
Levy nods. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just wanna go home, crawl into my bed with one of the painkillers Anders tucked into my pocket, and sleep until the day after tomorrow.”
“Truth,” Anders says, carefully low-fiving my brother.
“By the way, Levy?” Nacho says with an evil gleam in his eye. “I couldn’t possibly think about sex tonight. I don’t know about your brother, but what I really need right now is a good cuddle.”
“Yes, Ignacio,” I say, kissing his nose, ignoring Levy’s pained groan. “I would love a cuddle.”
“Ugh, do you see this, Hop? People in love are so disgusting.”
Hop shakes his head, laughing. “Then call me disgusting because I love my husband like crazy.”
“Like crazy sounds about right,” Nacho cracks, ignoring the weight of Levy’s words.
Levy’s right, of course. I’ve absolutely fallen in love with Nacho and am a fucking helpless case at this point.
Nacho and I disentangle ourselves, getting up from the couch.
“Shit, we don’t have a ride,” Levy says, his voice heavy with painkillers.
“That’s okay,” I respond, looking outside. “We’ll take one of the trafficker’s trucks.”
