Levy nods, running his knuckles along his lower lip, tilting his head side to side as the words connect.
“So the guy with the neck tattoos is what you needed?”
I rub my chest thinking about everything he’s given me. Slowly, my eyes meet Levy’s, and I dip my chin.
“He’s perfect for me. He makes me a better therapist. He makes me a better brother and friend.”
“Does he know that?”
“I may not have fully communicated that to him yet. But I will.”
“So this isn’t just some hormone-driven temporary insanity?”
“Oh, hormones are involved,” I say, laughing.
Levy makes a disgusted face. “TMI, Bram. T. M. I.”
“Brother, if you don’t wanna hear about my sex life, don’t ask me questions about my sex life.”
He holds up his hands. “Fair point. I guess I just…I’m trying to consider the long-term happiness of the patient. I don’t want him to be harmed if this ends, and I don’t want him to come back and retaliate with, frankly, the truth.”
“I hear you, but he doesn’t operate with a retaliation mindset. That’s just not who he is.”
“How do you know that?”
“I was his therapist, Lev.”
Levy puts his head in his hands. “That’s really fucked up, Bram.”
“It is. I know it is. But I want you to consider that the guy he killed was trying to rape him. Nacho later admitted it made his stomach hurt. He literally wanted to throw up when he found out he’d killed this man who meant to do him harm. All Nacho ever wanted to do in prison was put his head down, do his time, get out, and try to rebuild his life. He looks forward, Lev. Never back.”
Levy lets out a long breath, scrubbing his forehead. Finally, he says, “That does make a certain kind of sense. I mean…the way he was with those women. Like, he was hearing stuff a seasoned professional would be disturbed by, and he controlled his response so he could be there for them.”
I nod, confessing, “Hell, I had to go to his place yesterday because I didn’t want to sleep alone.”
Levy looks off to the side. “I didn’t sleep at all last night or the night before.”
“Everything I learn about him makes me want to learn more,” I say, picking up a pen and rolling it between my fingers. “At first, I thought it was just me needing to regain control. But if that were the case, I could’ve gone online, found a sub, scratched the itch. But it wasn’t submission. It washissubmission. It wasthatman and all the layers that make uphim. In the thirty seconds I had before I saw him, I was reading the file of a guy who was smart, who’d stayed out of trouble longer than most of the guys in his neighborhood, somebody who had more under the surface, more to give.”
“It must’ve scared you, wanting to control someone but not being able to control your own impulses.”
“It was terrifying,” I admit, somehow feeling freer for saying so. “I couldn’t stop, and it made me question everything about who I was. Then, when he played with me, when he responded in kind, I couldn’t have felt regret for that at all.”
Before Levy can respond, we’re interrupted by a knock at the door. We sort of blink and shift, coming back to the present. Charlie pokes his head in the door, immediately clocking that Levy and I are talking about something serious.
“Gentlemen, my apologies. I don’t mean to interrupt your therapeutic time, but we’ve got a bit of a situation.”
“I think we were just about done here,” Levy says, looking at me.
I stand. “What’s going on?”
He walks in and is followed by Justin, Erik, Ant, and Nacho. Seeing him in my office somehow brings it all back, and my first thought isI want to bend him over this couch.
“Fix your face,” Levy whispers.
“Sorry. Thanks,” I whisper back.
Charlie gestures for Nacho to speak. Our eyes meet, and I send him an encouraging smile. After a brief hesitation, he tells us about the client who set off his alarm bells. By the time he finishes describing the project they’ve been hired to do, my alarm bells are going off too.
