Page 28 of Scarred Sunrise

Chapter 12

Peyton Lawson lookedat him over the top of her black-rimmed glasses. Calm grey eyes were assessing him as she wrote in the notebook on her knee, her bare feet tucked underneath her. She wasn’t like most shrinks or therapists or at least not the ones he imagined in his mind. Peyton, as she’d asked him to call her, was girl next door pretty, with pale blue almost grey eyes and long honey blonde hair which she wore in a ponytail. “So how has your weekend been?”

When he’d arrived for his first appointment, he’d been sceptical and judged her on her appearance. Now though, he knew she was razor-sharp. Her demeanour was her way of making her clients relax and forget who she was. Probing, almost innocent questions, were fashioned in such a way that it was easy to fall into a conversation and admit things he’d never normally admit to.

Smithy leaned back in the armchair she’d positioned opposite a coffee table. “Good mostly, a few hiccups but nothing I couldn’t handle.” He hadn’t realised until that moment what a sense of accomplishment he felt for the silly achievements people took for granted. Like not having a meltdown when he’d heard a firework go off last night or being able to stay and let Liz see his vulnerability when she found out about his past.

Peyton smiled a genuine expression of warmth on her face. “That’s fantastic. Tell me about the good first.”

“I went on a brunch date with a woman I’ve loved since I was sixteen and didn’t make a dick of myself.”

Peyton cocked her head. “What made you think you might make a dick of yourself, as you put it?”

Smithy squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable being the sole focus of her intent gaze. “I normally do everything in my power to push Lizzie away, or at least I have in the past.”

“And what changed? Why are you suddenly able to allow her in and picture a future with her?” Peyton cocked her head. “At least I’m guessing that’s what you want.”

“I do, and honestly, it feels awkward to talk about.”

“Okay, let’s talk about the things that didn’t go so well and how you coped with those.”

Smithy let his shoulders relax. It was far easier talking about anything mission-based than he ever was his feelings.

“When I saw Nazareli in Lizzie’s home, I slipped into this zone where I was an operator again, but it was different somehow.” He scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration.

“Did you feel afraid when you saw this woman in your friend’s home?”

Smithy shook his head. “Not for me, no.”

“So, you were afraid for Liz?”

“Well, yes. Nazareli is a threat no matter how she may have come across. Liz is innocent and vulnerable.”

“And you aren’t?”

“No.” He scoffed at the idea he was either of those things.

“Why don’t you believe you’re vulnerable?”

“I’m a killer, Doc. I kill people for a living.”

“The ability to kill another human being doesn’t mean we aren’t vulnerable. Why did you push Lizzie away for so many years?”

Smithy ran his hand over his short-cropped hair in frustration as he sat forward and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Because she was too good for me.”

“And now you don’t think she is?”

“No, of course not. A woman like Liz will always be too good for the likes of me.” He got up and began to pace the room, glad that it had windows as the air in his lungs started to burn.

“Smithy, I want you to find me five things in the room that are blue.” Peyton’s calm command clicked in his head. As he began to list them his breathing slowed until his racing heart began to slow.

“What made you upset?”

He sat slowly, exhaustion suddenly hitting him and the fight to contain his feelings too heavy to carry. His voice was like broken glass when he spoke. “Every single person in my life who should’ve loved me didn’t. My mother was so in love with the man who sired me, that when he walked out on us when I was a baby, she hit the bottle. Became a functioning alcoholic, and then she became a non-functioning human being as the years wore on. I have no clue who my father is, just that he sent money regularly but didn’t give enough of a fuck to take me from the hell I lived in. I want to hate her, my mother, but she was my mum, and she didn’t hurt me. She just didn’t love me.” He looked up at Peyton. “If the one person who is meant to love you can’t, how could I trust that that Liz wouldn’t have got bored and walked away?”

“You can’t, and that is where trust comes in, but that’s the problem. It would leave you vulnerable to getting hurt.”

“Yeah, well done, doc, you figured it out. I’m a scared piece of shit who has no balls.”