Page 23 of Empty Heat
“What?” Lines formed on his forehead.
“If you’re a surrogate, why weren’t you assigned to my caseasthat?”
“I was—am. You have free choice.”
What? He was assigned to me? Now I was even more disappointed.
“Soren is only one match,” he continued. “He was someone who would work out for you—possibly—though I disagreed with that as well. But I was the main match for you. However, they wanted you to choose me, not be assigned to me.”
“Why?” The main match? Despite my brain being in total disorder, I couldn’t help myself. I quickly assessed him from my new point of view. He would have been a perfect sex surrogate for me—not overwhelming in size, gentle of voice, attractive to look at.
“If you could choose freely,” he continued, “it was thought you would be more relaxed about it. That you would feel more in control about your treatment.”
“But I wasn’t in control at all. Things were moving behind the scenes around me. That’s how it is. Right?”
“Not anymore. Not now. I told you the truth so you could regain your own control.”
“What if I need help, though? What if I have control issues? You all thought that, obviously. That I needed the help.”
“I agree with you.” He bowed his head. “I followed the directives when I knew better and I take full blame. I had not yet met you, but when I did, I discussed with Rhodes how much I disliked this approach. He agreed. I think, however, he wanted me to tell you the truth with him present. But when you asked me a few minutes ago, I couldn’t lie one more second.”
I heard him. I didn’t think he was lying anymore, but it still hurt me that somehow the healers on this island had decided to treat me like a child who needed prodding and lessons and manipulations to learn to make the right decisions for myself.
“I can make decisions. Maybe with all my problems, you all thought I needed some help. But I am sane and rational. I can understand and participate in my own healing. I’m capable of asking you all for help when I need it, too. I want you to know that. I want themallto know that.”
“Good,” Lev said. “You should tell them that. Stand up for yourself. I will help get that message across and I know Rhodes will, too.”
“I am not having doubts about that. I’m just—just pissed. You know? Like I wasn’t a real person to you all. Like I wasn’t smart enough.” His voice shuddered.
“I will do everything in my power to advocate that message,” he said.
I looked directly into his dark gaze. Lev’s eyes were velvet and gentle. He appeared completely sincere. Smart. Handsome. Wonderful.
Why did this have to happen?
“I don’t want you to advocate. Or do notes. You don’t know me,” he demanded.
“All right.”
“And I still want to meet Soren.”
“Of course,” he said. His face showed no emotion, but the softness in his eyes was enough to let me know how disappointed he was. But disappointed in himself? Or me?
“You impress me,” Lev added.
That answered my question.
I knew he was angry with the team and his own participation with their treatment plan for me. I think I’d known the first time I saw him casually fiddling with hedge-clippers that he was more than a gardener.
I’d been even more sure of it when he had talked about the whistle yesterday. His voice had been pitched just right for comfort, for the way you might talk to someone who could become skittish.
I knew it then. I just didn’t let myself believe it.
“Why do I impress you?” I asked.
“Because you are strong and know what you need. And it wasn’t this.”
But I didn’t know what I needed. That was why I was here. “I don’t think I’m strong.”
