Page 5 of Black Heart

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 oldNational Geographicmagazine 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.

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