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“Hm,” he said again. Maybe it was bred into the rich, or maybe they picked it up young, but he looked at me like I was nothing, not even a servant who could be useful to him. “Everything, huh?”
Was he fishing for something specific? “Yes? Did you want an update on your office?”
“I want a different doctor.”
The only sound for a long second was the airflow. “What?”
“I’m requesting a different provider. Do you need it in writing?”
“Did I... do something?”
In one motion, he pushed his table and dinner aside and swung his feet off the bed, advancing on me before I had a chance to draw back. “You tell me.” He held out his phone.
It took all of two seconds to figure out what I was seeing: a text chat. The title said it was a conversation with DH, no profile picture. The first incoming message saidCall me ASAP.
Uh oh.
“Tell me this isn’t what it looks like,” Davis demanded.
“I—um—” Hadn’t I deleted that message? Yes, I definitely had—but the image I was looking at was not the conversation on his phone. It was how it would have looked to the recipient. Neverett—Everett. His brother.
Had he responded?
Whatever he’d said, Davis did not seem happy as he scowled down at me. “Um,” I said again.
“How—?” He scoffed, turning away, shaking his head. “How could you do this to me? You, of all people?”
“Me—I—”
“You, who have railed on me from day one about ethics and never crossing a line? Who judged me so harshly for weeks? Who couldn’t even crack a smile at me half the time when I was bending over backwards to be nice to you and make you like me?”
“You wanted me to like you?”
“Of course I did—your judgement seemed... valuable. Worth earning.” He laughed at himself bitterly. “I sound like an idiot. I was.”
The memory of how hard I’d worked on our task force, even my replies to him to make sure they were utterly perfect, above reproach—to prove my own worth to him—streamed through my mind. He’d done the same for me—all that and more. The alliteration, helping with the Health Department until they saw me as a competent voice to listen to, the guidelines, all of it.
I ruined it all with one text message I never should have sent.
Davis leveled me with a glare. “Did you send this message?”
“Yes,” I barely breathed. “I—it was a huge mistake.”
“Are you kidding?” He scowled at me. “You judged me forcutting in line, and you turn around and pull this?
“I wanted to help.” My voice sounded so small, an insufficient shield.
“Do you have any idea the lines you’ve crossed doing this?”
I swallowed hard. I rubbed at my neck, like that gesture could somehow hide exactly how vulnerable I was right now. Perhaps I hadn’t technically violated HIPAA or ethics, but I’d broken moral codes. “Do you want to file a complaint?” I barely managed, even though I deserved it.
Davis pivoted away. “No. I just want you to transfer my care to... literally anyone more trustworthy than you.”
The physical pain of guilt sliced into my heart like a glass shard. “I’m sorry,” I whispered again. “You’re right, I—”
He whirled back on me, fire in his eyes. “Do you have any idea why I didn’t want to talk to my brother—why I said no at least three times when you asked?”
I could hardly shake my head.
