Page 62 of False Heir

Kieran leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between us before he spoke. “You know, they say that talking about your feelings is supposed to be therapeutic or something.”

“With you two? I think it would just be traumatizing.”

Kieran shrugged, grinning. “Why not? Not like we don’t know most of your dirty laundry already.”

The banter felt normal, comfortable—familiar territory in a world that often felt anything but. But beneath the facade, my mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, sucked down by the gravity of Adriana’s request for space.

“Sure,” I muttered, rolling my eyes, “and while we’re at it, why don’t we braid each other’s hair and talk about which boy band member we’d marry.”

The three of us broke into laughter, momentarily breaking the tension. For a moment, everything felt normal again. But reality had a way of creeping back in, and soon, the specter of Adriana’s message began to cast its shadow once more.

“Harry Styles, by the way,” Liam said. “No contest.”

I snorted, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all. “You would go for the obvious choice.”

“Styles is a solid pick,” Kieran argued, his grin unfaltering. “Though I might lean more toward Niall myself.”

I held up a hand, forcing down another laugh as I tried to get a grip on the absurdity of the conversation. “That’s enough. Let’s not turn this into a One Direction fan club meeting.”

They both chuckled, exchanging smirking glances that said they had undoubtedly achieved their goal—lightening the mood, if only momentarily.

I checked my phone again subconsciously, my heart sinking as I saw there were no new messages from Adriana. The weight of the silence between us was growing heavier by the second.

“I need a minute,” I said.

As I walked through the crisp winter air, my breath visible against the backdrop of Boston’s skyline, I could feel the weight of my brothers’ concern trailing behind me. But it wasn’t their worry that spurred my steps; it was the gnawing need to resolve the chaos Adriana had stirred within me, to confront whatever lay ahead without dragging them down into the abyss with me.

It was so cold outside. It didn’t help at all.

I circled back to the fish and chip shop near the marina, its windows fogged from the warmth inside combating the biting cold of a Boston winter. The scent of salt and malt vinegar filled my nostrils as I pushed open the door, a jingle announcing my return.

“Back already?” Liam quirked an eyebrow, his tone light but eyes scanning me with a scrutiny I wasn’t prepared to face.

Liam’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before he resumed working on his drink.

“Adriana’s not looking too happy lately,” I muttered, hoping to steer the conversation away from myself.

“Ah, she’s probably just hormonal, you know? Pregnant with twins and all,” Liam replied nonchalantly.

“Shut up, Liam,” I snapped, the disrespect slicing through my patience like a blade. It was one thing to hold my tongue on my own account, quite another when it came to Adriana.

“Whoa, easy there.” Liam raised his hands in mock surrender, but the flicker of confusion in his eyes told me he hadn’t expected such a ferocious backlash.

I clenched my jaw, forcing air through my nostrils in an attempt to calm the storm brewing within. It was a delicate dance, balancing the need to protect Adriana’s privacy with the visceral urge to defend her honor.

“Sorry,” I grumbled after a tense silence, “Just...watch your words, alright?”

Liam nodded, and we settled into an uneasy truce, the sound of the harbor’s gulls filling the spaces our conversation used to occupy.

“Kieran, can I ask you something?” Liam’s voice cut through the lull, his eyes flicking to our brother across the table.

“Shoot,” Kieran said, leaning back in his chair with an air of disinterest that seemed as natural to him as breathing.

“Tristan thinks it’s strange he doesn’t know every Irish soul in Boston, and now Ali’s vanished off the map. What’s your take on that?” Liam prodded, his fork paused mid-air.

“Well, the only explanation I can think of is that you’re making her up,” Kieran said. “That sounds like something you’d do. Remember that girlfriend in Canada?”

“Hey, that’s not–well, that’s rich, coming from you. How come you never seem to have any girl trouble?”

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