Chapter Twenty-Six Tristan
And, just like that, I was alone.
I stared out across the marina, the cold air turning my breath to mist as it mingled with the sea’s morning exhale. My brothers’ footsteps receded behind me, their departure a physical reminder of the widening rift between duty and desire, between The Callahan Legacy and what my heart wanted. As they vanished into the distance, I was left alone with the murmur of the waves and Adriana’s haunting question: “Is she even your girlfriend?” A question that wasn’t just about status, but about love. And damn if that didn’t twist the knife deeper.
Those words hung in the air, heavy as the fog rolling off the water. Guilt gnawed at my insides, stoking a fire of panic that threatened to consume me. I couldn’t shake the fear that maybe she was right, that maybe I had lost her already.
Enough. I couldn’t torture myself like this any longer.
I yanked my phone from my pocket, the cool metal a jarring contrast to the warmth of my palm. I dialed her number, each ring dragging out longer than the last, until the call ended abruptly without an answer. Frustration surged through me, a red-hot surge that demanded release. But I swallowed it down, shoving the phone back into my pocket with more force than necessary.
Then, as if summoned by my desperation, the screen lit up with her name. I answered immediately, my voice steadier than I felt.
“Adriana?” I said, barely hiding the relief that laced my words.
“Tristan,” her tone was all business, “I’m at Carmen’s. Dr. Davies can see us, but it has to be now.”
“Dr. Davies? The…the historian Kieran recommended?”
“Yeah, I reached out to him when I was…it doesn’t matter,” she said, trailing off.
“Can it wait? I need...” What? To catch my breath? To make sense of this mess?
“Listen, unless you’re out of town, there’s no time. This is short notice as it is,” she cut me off, her voice leaving no room for argument.
“Fine. I’ll be there.” I ended the call, staring at the device as if it held some secret to unraveling the chaos of my life. Adriana needed me, and whatever Dr. Davies had to say, I’d face it head-on. Because failing her wasn’t an option, not when every fiber of my being screamed to make this right. With a deep breath, I turned from the marina and set off to find answers, leaving the echo of the sea—and my uncertainty—behind.
I hailed the first cab that came into view, impatience vibrating through me like a live wire. The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes quickly taking in my agitated state.
“Harvard Yard, fastest you can get me there,” I said, thrusting a wad of cash at him without bothering to count it.
“Sure thing, boss,” he replied, and we were off, the engine growling in response to his heavy foot on the pedal. The city unfolded before us in a frenetic rush of motion as we weaved through traffic.
Buildings merged into a blur, their edges softened by the flurry of snowflakes that danced in the air, clinging to my window with fleeting persistence before melting away. My reflection stared back at me, a ghost amidst the chaos of the city’s lifeblood pulsing around us.
“Bad day, huh?” the driver tried to make small talk, probably sensing the tension radiating off me.
“Something like that,” I muttered, not in the mood to elaborate.
My mind raced alongside the speeding cab, turning over the possible catastrophes awaiting me. Was this disaster of my own making? A consequence of the tangled web woven by my family’s legacy and my attempts to escape it?
“Damn,” I whispered under my breath, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on my shoulders. Had I stepped too far out of line?
“Almost there,” the driver announced, snapping me back to reality. The crimson fa?ade of Harvard’s buildings loomed ahead, a beacon in the thickening snowfall—my destination, where answers awaited.
At least I hoped.
I slammed the cash in his hand, and the cab peeled away from the curb with a jolt, leaving Harvard’s hallowed grounds behind. Questions I’d been dodging for months now hammered at me with each heartbeat. Was it cowardice that made me feed Adriana promises like breadcrumbs? Stringing her along...was I stringing her along?
My phone buzzed in my pocket, a text from Adriana no doubt, but I couldn’t bear to read it. Not now. The thought of her, the kids—our kids—caught up in this mess, it clawed at me, panic sinking its teeth deep.
I paced the sidewalk outside Harvard, my breath clouding in the biting wind. I couldn’t stand still, each step a futile attempt to shake off the weight of dread settling on my shoulders. The students milling about seemed to stare, their glances like knives questioning my presence here, a man clearly out of place in their academic oasis.
“Tristan Callahan” was a name that commanded respect—or fear—in the dark corners of Boston, but at Harvard, I was just another anxious soul waiting for a woman who could very well decide my fate.
“Adriana,” I muttered under my breath, scanning the sea of young faces for the one that haunted my every thought. The cold gnawed through my coat, a harsh reminder of the chill she’d left in my heart.
She appeared suddenly, striding toward me from a side street. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat screaming her name. Her short dark hair danced wildly in the wind, framing a face set hard with anger and defiance.
“How’s Liam?” she asked. “Wait, are you drunk?”
“No, just a pint–Ade, please. Hear me out.”
“Another chance? You’ve had your chances, Tristan.” Adriana’s voice cut deeper than the winter air.
“Look, I know I’ve messed up,” I said, my plea drowned out by the clamor of students around us. “But we need to see Dr. Davies. There are things—things about my family, about us, that might change everything.”
I didn’t think so, but maybe there was something to what Kieran was saying.
There had to be.
“Always something with you,” she shot back, but I could see the storm in her eyes, the battle between the fury and the flicker of something softer.
“Please,” I said again, my voice barely above the whirl of campus life. “Just this one last time.”
“Fine.” Adriana’s reply was curt, her lips a tight line. She pulled out her phone and swiped it open. Her eyes scanned the screen, then softened ever so slightly. “We can make it work, maybe,” she sighed, more to herself than me.
My pulse quickened. That sliver of hope I’d been clinging to since our last encounter—it flared to life like a match struck in the dark.
“Dr. Davies?” I asked, trying to keep the eagerness from my voice.
She nodded, locking her phone with a click that seemed to echo louder than the laughter around us.
“Let’s go then.” I gestured toward the main part of the campus, where the historic brick buildings of Harvard Yard stood stoic against the bustling students.
As we entered the yard, the weight of our silent truce pressed down on us. We walked side by side, but the distance between us felt as wide as the Charles River. Students darted around us, their chatter and laughter a stark reminder of a simpler time before family, duty, and blood had complicated everything.
My mind churned with what Dr. Davies might say, how it could unravel the tightly wound tapestry of lies that had become my life. But for now, I focused on the crunch of gravel beneath our feet.
“Tristan,” Adriana finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice didn’t cut this time; it wavered, betraying a hint of vulnerability. “Whatever he tells us...are you sure you’re ready?”
“I mean, it’s just a box, right?” I asked.
“Right. Just a box,” Adriana said. “Nothing weird about it at all.”
Navigating campus was hard. There were a lot of doors, a lot of places to go. But we finally found his office.
The heavy door to Dr. Davies’ office creaked open, revealing a sanctuary that seemed detached from the outside world—a place where time stood still among the leather-bound books and faded maps adorning the walls. Dr. Davies stood behind his desk, his warm smile a sharp contrast to the turmoil churning inside me.
“Tristan, Adriana, welcome,” he greeted, motioning us toward the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
“Dr. Davies,” I acknowledged with a nod, taking a seat while my mind raced. How much did this man know about the Callahans? About me? Why was he talking to us like he knew us?
“Your family’s name is well-known, Tristan,” Dr. Davies began, his eyes locking onto mine. “Your father was a remarkable man; his death was a loss felt by many.”
I tensed at the mention of my father, a wave of grief lacing my apprehension. “How do you know about him?” I asked, my voice steady despite the questions pounding through my head.
“Let’s just say your family has always been of particular interest to me,” he replied cryptically, then turned to pour a drink from a crystal decanter. “Whiskey?”
“Sure,” I said, accepting the tumbler he offered. He poured some water for Adriana, who took it with a polite thank-you.
The whiskey was smooth, a rich note of peat lingering on my tongue. I watched Dr. Davies take his seat across from us, the creak of aged leather punctuating the silence. His office felt like a vault of secrets, the air heavy with the musty scent of old paper and wisdom. He leaned back, steepling his fingers as he regarded us with an unreadable expression.
“Tristan,” he began, his tone serious, “the, uh, criminal history of Boston has always been my area of expertise.”
I blinked, the information a hard swallow. “Expertise?” I echoed, trying to keep my voice even. The idea that this academic before me could know the intricacies of our world was unsettling.
Dr. Davies nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Yes. My fascination with your kind of...lineage has been the focus of my studies for years.” He paused, glancing at Adriana briefly before returning his gaze to me. “Absolutely. That’s why I was so pleased when Kieran brought me the box.”