Page 6 of Black Heart

“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.”

CHAPTER3

Twenty minutes later, they were pulling up to a large, two-story white colonial house, his first real home, Tristan thought as he climbed out of the truck, wincing when the movement pulled at his wound. Before he could make a quiet escape and walk to his house, two houses down from this one, the front door of his parents’ house was thrown open and a short and very determined woman rushed out. He swore softly when his mother quickly made her way over to him.

“How’s your shoulder today?” she asked, running an assessing eye over him, probably trying to determine how much babying she needed to dish out today.

“Fine, Mom. I’m going to head home now. I’ll see you later,” Tristan said, quickly giving her a one-armed hug and a kiss on her forehead. The one thing he didn’t need right now was his mother fussing over him. He’d had enough of that over the past few weeks to last a lifetime.

“Okay,” his mother said, giving him a kiss on the cheek while he’d noted that she gave in quickly, which instantly put him on alert.

As Tristan pulled away, his gaze automatically shot across the street, looking for the beat-up, old yellow Volkswagen that belonged to the woman that he’d forced himself to pretend didn’t exist. When he spotted the car in the driveway, his heart skipped a beat before he forced himself to look away.

“That reminds me, sweetie. Marty accidentally locked herself out. I told her that she could study in your old room while she waited for Hank to come home. Why don’t you go upstairs and say hello? It’s been a while since you saw each other,” his mother said, managing to offer him the one thing that he couldn’t resist.

Not today.

He just…

God, he just fucking needed one more minute with her.

“Just for a minute,” Tristan said, knowing that he shouldn’t do this, but he needed her, craved her every fucking minute of the day, and even though he’d never understood it, right now, he didn’t want to fight it. Right now, he was going to be a selfish bastard and steal a few minutes with the woman who deserved better.

“Well, you’ve both moved on since high school, and by the time she started college, you were starting the academy. Sometimes, people just grow apart. It’s sad, but it happens,” his mother said on a wistful sigh as she reached up and carefully adjusted the strap on his sling.

“I should go say hello,” Tristan said as his gaze shifted to his old bedroom window.

“Tell Marty that dinner will be ready in two hours when Denny gets here,” his mother said with a warm smile that Tristan barely noticed as he found himself slowly exhaling.

Nodding absently, Tristan made his way to the house, wondering if he was going to change his mind like he had a thousand times before and simply walk away from her.

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