Page 3

CHAPTER 2

W hen Tristan returned a few minutes later, he noted that the doctor appeared to be more composed and ready to continue with the department-ordered bullshit that he would eventually find a way out of. He always did and this time would be no different. He’d have the good doctor signing him off to return to active duty soon enough. For now, he was going to have to settle for screwing with the man’s head for his own entertainment.

Well, it had been entertaining while it lasted, Tristan thought dryly as he dropped back down on the lumpy couch. If the man hadn’t been an old friend of his father’s, he would have already screwed him over and ended this bullshit his way two weeks ago.

“Tristan, that wasn’t funny,” David said, only to follow that up by taking another steadying breath and a sip of water.

“I’m afraid it was, Doc,” Tristan drawled, wondering why he didn’t leave when he had the chance.

“Fine, I see that you’re still being stubborn. So, I’ll pick the topic for our session,” David said with a heavy sigh.

“Pick away, Doc,” Tristan said as he laid back down on the couch, but this time, he didn’t bother picking up his book.

“Do you want to talk about the fire or the shooting?” David began as Tristan gave him a bored look.

“I understand that while I’m out on medical leave that I’m required to meet with you twice a week, so I’ll indulge you in this,” Tristan said, not bothering to mention that Hank promised to keep his ass on medical leave permanently if he refused to talk about the shooting.

“Of course,” Dr. Bryne murmured encouragingly.

“I chased a known child molester into a house where I found two missing boys tied to a radiator. I shot the prick and earned a bullet in my shoulder. I killed the bastard and then his accomplice set the house on fire. We got trapped upstairs where my brother found us and led us to safety,” Tristan explained in a bored tone as he sat back up, trying to get more comfortable, but it was impossible with his shoulder throbbing. “And before you ask, yes, my brother brings it up every chance he gets, and no, he won’t let me live it down.”

“Well, he did save your life,” Dr. Bryne muttered.

“I heard that,” Tristan said, his lips twitching as he gestured impatiently for David to get on with it. “Move on to something else.”

“Do you want to talk about your personal life?”

At that, Tristan cocked an eyebrow in silent warning to move on to a different subject, but the doctor simply ignored him. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“I see plenty of people,” Tristan bit out, not liking where this conversation was heading.

“I meant, are you seeing anyone romantically?”

“No,” Tristan said with a heavy sigh.

“Do you want to talk about that?”

“No.”

“And you don’t see a problem with that?” David asked, throwing him a questioning look.

Tristan’s eyes narrowed on the doctor as he asked, “Do you?”

“Yes,” Dr. Bryne answered without any hesitation.

“Why?” Tristan asked in a bored tone.

“I find it very odd that a twenty-nine-year-old man with your good looks and job has never had a steady girlfriend, don’t you?”

Narrowing his eyes, Tristan asked, “My mother got to you, didn’t she?”

Of course, she had, Tristan thought as he watched David shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His mother was determined to see him married and a daddy as soon as possible. No matter how many times he told her to drop it, the woman refused to give up.

“Of course not,” David answered as he shifted his gaze to the left. The man was a bad liar, Tristan noted.

“Look, Doc, I’ve dated plenty of women. I’m just not interested in anything permanent,” Tristan said, hoping that would be enough to get him to drop it.

“Because it’s a sign of permanency? Do you fear commitment?” David asked, cocking his head to the side as he considered him.

“Just clingy women, Doc,” Tristan said with a heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not afraid of commitment. I just haven’t met anyone that I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

It was complete bullshit, but Dr. Bryne seemed to buy it.

“Fine, let’s move on to something else.”

“Let’s,” Tristan said, gesturing lazily for him to continue.

Nodding, David took a moment to look through his notes, pretending to look for something to discuss while Tristan sighed inwardly, knowing exactly what the doctor was about to bring up. The man was like a dog with a bone. “Well, it’s been almost twenty-four years since the incident at your biological grandmother’s house. Why don’t we discuss how you feel about that?”

“I feel fine,” Tristan said on a bored sigh.

“I don’t think that you do. I think that it really bothers you and instead of coming in here prepared to talk about it, you leave it up to me to set the direction of our sessions, hoping that I don’t talk about what’s really bothering you. I think that you can’t accept what happened and that you’re hiding from your feelings,” Dr. Bryne said, taking a pen out of his pocket as he grabbed a legal pad off the coffee table.

“Are we really back to this again? Look, let me recap it for you because I don’t want to sit here going over every little detail with you or go in-depth about ‘my feelings.’ When I was six years old, I was at my grandmother’s house and I had a panic attack over something I can’t even remember and fell down the stairs. I tripped and hit my head against the wall, splitting my head open. Apparently, I freaked out on the way to the ambulance, probably from my concussion. My biological parents were pricks and decided that they no longer wanted me, so they signed me over to foster care, where I only stayed for a couple of days because my father came and got me. He fostered me for two months and then, he and my mother adopted me. That’s where I’ve been for the last twenty-four years, happy and healthy.”

“Are you happy?” Dr. Bryne asked as he looked up from the legal pad on his lap to gauge Tristan’s reaction.

“Forcing me to come here is a huge waste of time,” Tristan pointed out, ignoring the doctor’s question since it was just bullshit. He was fine, more than fine, no matter what anyone thought.

“I don’t think it is. You were in a highly traumatic situation, yet you act cool, distant about it,” Dr. Bryne noted, looking thoughtful while he watched Tristan for a reaction.

Tristan closed his eyes, biting back a few choice words as he reminded himself that he had to play nice if he wanted to get this bullshit over with and return to work.

“You’re afraid that if you answer me honestly that you’ll realize there are some serious issues that need to be discussed. Tell me about your previous injuries and the bruises they found on your body the last time that you saw your parents. Seventeen fractures, ninety-three stitches, and bruised ribs, all before the age of six. Does that sound normal to you?”

“I was an active kid. I don’t know how I got the bruises on my body that day, but no one touched me,” Tristan bit out, hating the fact that he kept bringing this bullshit up. David had been trying to “fix” him since he was a kid and it was getting really fucking old.

“Don’t you find it odd that for the six years that you spent with your biological parents that you had all of those injuries and after you were adopted by Tom, the injuries stopped?”

“They never laid a fucking hand on me,” Tristan said evenly, wondering when the man would just move the fuck on.

“Tristan, how does that make you-” Dr. Bryne started to ask, only to get cut off by the sound of someone knocking on the office door as it opened. Tristan’s father poked his head inside, still looking pretty much the same as he had that fateful day Tristan met him, except for the addition of a few grey hairs and laugh lines. “Sorry, David, but I promised the wife that we’d be home for dinner by six.”

Knowing that even Hank wouldn’t bitch about his mother’s request cutting into his therapy session, Tristan got to his feet and headed for the door. He wasn’t exactly surprised when Dr. Bryne didn’t remind him that they still had twenty minutes left.

The man lived in fear of Tristan’s mother, and for damn good reason. Along with his father and brother, Tristan would happily beat the shit out of anyone that did anything to upset her.

When his father grabbed his good arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze as though he really needed it, Tristan barely resisted the urge to shrug his hold off. “I’ll be right there,” his father said with that overly understanding smile that seemed to be reserved just for him.

His father was worried about him, but that wasn’t anything new. He was always worried about him, but at least he wasn’t as bad as his mother. God, that woman turned worrying into an art form. Tristan was just glad that his father managed to stop her from tagging along today. Granted, she’d only agreed to back off as long his father spoke with the doctor to make sure that he was okay.

If that meant keeping his mother from losing her fucking mind every time she looked at his shoulder, he’d agree to damn near anything, Tristan thought as he made his way down the small hallway that led to the waiting room. Ignoring the curious gazes turning his way, he dropped down in a chair by the back wall with a sigh and grabbed an old National Geographic magazine off the coffee table overflowing with magazines from the nineties.

A few minutes later, Tristan looked up to find the beautiful woman sitting across from him watching him with a coy smile that didn’t really interest him. When she opened her mouth to say something, Tristan glanced back down at the magazine on his lap and-

“Pink bunnies, Tristan?”

Fuck.

He really shouldn’t have signed that release form allowing his father to ask questions about his sessions, Tristan thought as he looked up to find the beautiful woman sitting across from him watching him curiously.

“Old Nam’ flashbacks,” Tristan drawled, making her smile and not really caring.

When he stood up to leave, she reached over to stop him. “Wait,” she said, pressing something into his hand. “My name’s Jessica and I would love to hear more about those pink bunnies,” she said coyly, giving him an appreciative look as she ran her eyes over him.

Tristan gave her a small, barely-there nod, quickly forgetting about her within seconds as he joined his father and headed for the exit, wondering if he was about to get another bullshit lecture about taking these mandatory sessions seriously. He followed his father to his pickup truck and climbed in. A few minutes later, they were making their way down the back roads when his father decided that they needed to talk.

“How long before you break him?” his father asked, making his lips twitch as he shifted to get more comfortable.

“Two more sessions. Three tops,” Tristan said, making his father chuckle.

“Hank probably won’t appreciate that,” Tom said dryly.

“He could always sign off and let me return to light duty,” Tristan pointed out as he sank back against the seat, raising his knee against the door until the leg of his pants rose up over the ankle holster attached to his leg, revealing his favorite handgun. He absently reached down and adjusted the holster before returning to his lazy position.

“You know that Hank’s hands are tied on this one. He needs you back on duty, but you won’t be any good to anyone until your shoulder is healed. You have two more weeks until you can go on light duty. Until then, you’re going to have to suck it up and deal with your mother fussing over you and these therapy sessions,” Tom pointed out.

When Tristan didn’t say anything, he continued, “You know it’s your own fault that you’re stuck in therapy.”

“How exactly is it my fault the emergency room doctor is a fucking moron?” Tristan asked, shaking his head in disgust as he thought about the fucking prick.

“He overreacted,” Tom said, which was a fucking understatement.

If Tristan hadn’t decked the doctor, his father would have and judging by the expression on Hank’s face at the time, he hadn’t been far behind. Once that recommendation had been sent to Concord, Tristan’s fate had been sealed.

“It will be a cold day in hell when I cry over some fucking child molester.”

“Well, it probably didn’t help when you broke the doctor’s nose after he refused to pull his recommendation for therapy,” Tom said dryly, making Tristan’s lips twitch.

“But it felt so damn good.”