“I think I am in love with him,” I rubbed my palms together and looked away from my Seth. He rolled his wheelchair closer until our knees touched. “You are in love with a psycho?” His voice was soft but those eyes were filled with accusation.“He is not a psycho.” “He's your patient. Yes?” I nodded stiffly, unsure of where he was heading. “And you work in a psychiatric hospital and the last time I checked, only mad people came to you for treatment.” “People with mental illnesses, Dad.” “Oh, it's a spectrum,” He chuckled. “The point is he suffers from distorted thinking.” “Used to…” I said quickly. “He used to suffer from a mental illness.”