Page 3 of Sins of Leo

She buzzed the door, the audible click as it unlocked her cue to sit poised and ready to greet. In walked a giant of a man, and she didn’t say that lightly.

The breadth of his shoulders almost had him turning sideways to enter. While thick all over, it appeared to be muscle, not fat, the kind built over years of exercise or strenuous work. His file didn’t mention his occupation. Slightly intimidating, but despite his bloodshot eyes, he seemed calm.

Ruth stood and kept her tone firm and professional as she said, “Evening. You must be Leo. I’m Doctor Warmstone.”

His unshaven jaw tensed as he eyed her and then the office. “You’re a woman.”

“Yes, I am. Is that a problem?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” he grumbled.

“If you don’t feel I’ll be the right fit for you, I can refer you to a male colleague.”

He shook his head. “Nah. It’s fine. I was told to come see you, so here I am.”

A curious choice of words. “Someone recommended me?”

“Of sorts.” He rocked on his heels as if uncomfortable. “Feel like I should warn you I’ve never talked to a head shrink before.”

She’d heard the disparaging term too many times to count. “I’m glad you found the courage to try, then.”

“Courage,” he snorted. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Did someone force you to come?” The tactic didn’t always work, as those bullied into therapy could prove reluctant to give it a try. But sometimes someone struggling with mental health need tough love to direct them to therapy so they could move past whatever held them back.

“Boss says I need to get my shit together. My liver could use a break, too,” spoken with a rueful smile.

She made note of the detail suggesting he’d been using alcohol to cope. It explained the strong scent of cologne, most likely used to mask the odor that would linger as it oozed from the pores. “Let’s see what we can do, then. If you’ll take a seat…”

He eyed the club chair in front of her desk and then the leather-clad chaise. Before she could mention he could sit wherever he felt most comfortable, he flopped onto the armless couch, causing it to groan ominously.

He exhaled. “More comfy than it looks. Here’s to hoping I don’t fall asleep on you.”

“Sometimes sleep can be beneficial,” she murmured, rising with her tablet, which she used to take notes.

“Not when you have nightmares each time you close your eyes.”

She angled the club chair to face him before she sat down. “Hopefully our sessions will help with that. Let’s start with the basics. Your name is Leo, and you are how old?”

“Older than you’d think.”

A useless reply and probably an indication of how things would go: Difficult.

She pegged him to be in his late thirties, but he could be fit forties, or even fifties. “What is your occupation?”

“I worked as a cop.”

She noticed the late tense. “It sounds as if you no longer do?” Not unusual for law enforcement officials to change jobs before retirement age, given what they experienced. Dealing with the worst of society on an almost daily basis took a toll.

“I’m still working to serve and protect,” he muttered. “I just don’t have the same motivation as before, which makes me a liability to the guys I’m partnered with.”

She made a notation in her tablet about his concern over job performance. “How long have you been in law enforcement?”

“Long time.”

Vague replies, but not unusual for a first session. She didn’t need an exact date. “Have you thought about changing careers?”

“Can’t.” He uttered a short barking laugh. “This is what I am.”

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