“And that didn’t stop you?”
“I liked it,” I admit. “I liked that it was wrong.”
His jaw drops, and I see his brain recategorizing me as we speak. I wonder where I’ll land with him at the end of it.
“Youlikedthat it was wrong?”
“Yes. And I liked the control. Still like it, actually.”
“And he’s…what? Consenting to this?”
“Enthusiastically.”
Shaking his head, still not believing me, he gestures to the man who isn’t here. “Nacho doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who takes to direction very well.”
“Depends on the kind of direction you’re giving,” I say, looking down with a small smile.
“So you really don’t care how unethical this is?” he asks, simply unable to get there.
Honestly, I’m glad he can’t fathom it. I’ve always known he was a better man than me, and this proves it.
“I care deeply about ethics, Levy. I care deeply for the health, well-being, and safety of our patients. I would never ever ever ever ever take advantage of a patient. Ever.”
“But youdid. The power differential between you means that you had control over everything. Hell, even his freedom, Bram.”
“Iknow,” I snap. “Even though he was into it, it was wrong, and Ilikedthat it was wrong.”
His silence forces my head up, and his shocked expression both shames and validates the sentiment I haven’t been able to shake.
“Do you trust yourself with patients now?”
I nod, absolutely assured of my answer.
“I do. This wasn’t the start of some pathology in my thinking. This was a combination of having an extremely emotional event precede finding somebody who is a perfect match for me in an unconventional space. I would’ve always been attracted to him, though. Normally, I would’ve shut it down or had him switch therapists. But at that moment, I needed what Nacho was giving me, and he needed what I was giving him.”
“Holy shit.”
“I know I’ve disappointed you.”
“I don’t think I’m disappointed. I just…this makes me realize I don’t know you as well as I thought I did. It almost…” Levy stops, running his hand over his beard. “Look, I’m about to say something really fucked up, but I feel like I can because you just admitted how much you get off on the unethical nature of your relationship with Nacho Rivera.”
“Okay…” I say, not sure what to expect. “Lay it on me.”
He lets his hands work the air as he finds the words. “I dunno, but…you being imperfect kind of helps.”
I grin. “Yeah? In what way?”
“Fuck, look at me, then look at you. I’m scruffy. Your hair is always parted perfectly. I’ve got a little bit of belly. You’re jacked, always. I’m wearing a T-shirt, and you’re wearing a starched button-down.”
“You work with horses. Your clothing makes sense for what you do.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never been able to approach things like you do—with logic and reasoning. I’ve always just sort of followed my own flow, like an internal guidance system. Society looks at you, and they look at me, and they think you’re the buttoned-up one. I don’t think I realized how much I just sorta…went along with that thinking. Like, I had no idea ICE was all up in your grill at the hospital or that you’d fudged patient paperwork. Hell, I’vedefinitelydone that. How can we be so close, and I didn’t know that about you?”
“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know it about myself either.”
“And now that you do?”
“It’s a lot. This need to be perfect. I didn’t know how heavy it was until I couldn’t help myself. All that stuff with putting the patients over policy came after Nacho. I think I’ll always enjoy dressing like this and doing my hair like this. But I don’t know. Something about Nacho gives me permission to be a little messier than I’ve ever let myself be.”
