Page 37 of Captive Bride

"Welcome, Kieran," he said, his tone warm yet guarded, a mirror of my own inner conflict. "Didn't think we'd see you this side of Christmas."

“I told you I was coming.”

“I didn’t think you were serious.”

"Yeah, well. Change of plans," Kieran replied with a nonchalant shrug, though there was an edge of something unreadable in his voice.

“You knew he was coming?” I asked Tristan.

“I called him, and he said he was coming, but…I don’t know. We’ve both been so overwhelmed with the twins and everything. It must have slipped my mind.”

I watched as Kieran settled into the plush armchair, his lean form a stark shadow against the room's softness. Tristan wheeled himself closer to me, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease just a touch with his proximity.

"Adriana," he began, his voice even, "there’s one more thing. Carmen is on her way."

My eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across my face. I was dying to see my mother, but fuck, I was definitely dying to see my sister.

"Really?" I managed to keep my reaction neutral. Tristan nodded, a knowing look in his eyes that said he understood what this meant for all of us.

"Let's make Kieran feel at home before she turns this place upside down," he said with a half-smile, one that didn't quite reach those deep blue eyes.

"Of course." I turned back to Kieran, letting hospitality take the lead. "Can I get you anything, Kieran? Coffee? Water?"

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I'm good, Adriana. Thanks."

"Make yourself comfortable, then." My voice was warm, my stance welcoming. This house, nestled away from the chaos of The Callahan Domain, was more than just a sanctuary; it was a testament to the life we were building. A life where family and loyalty remained the cornerstones, no matter how complex the ties that bound us.

Kieran's gaze lingered on Tristan for a moment, something unspoken passing between them, before he leaned back into the chair, visibly relaxing. There was an ease in the way he occupied space, a quiet confidence that didn't need to be announced.

"Good to have you here," I added, meaning it. Despite everything, Kieran was family, and I had learned long ago that the bonds of blood, however tangled, were not so easily dismissed.

“She’s right. It’s good to see you.”

The air in the room shifted, heavy with unspoken words as Kieran stood up and closed the distance between him and Tristan. I watched, heart lodged in my throat, as they embraced—a deep, lingering hug that spoke volumes of their shared history. The stretch of silence was a canvas painted with shades of loyalty and old pain, love etched into the lines of Tristan's face as he clung to his brother.

"Good to see you, Kieran," Tristan murmured, his voice softening, a rare vulnerability peeking through his usual composure.

"Likewise," Kieran replied, pulling back but still holding Tristan's shoulders, an acknowledgment of the wheelchair that had become part of Tristan's world.

I caught the briefest glint of something like sorrow or regret in Kieran's eyes before it vanished behind his enigmatic façade.

"Come," I beckoned, guiding Kieran toward where our twins lay cooing in their bassinets, unaware of the complexities surrounding them. "Meet Catherine Jean and Matteo Cian."

Kieran's features softened as he peered down at the babies. "They're beautiful," he said, genuine warmth seeping into his voice for the first time since he'd arrived.

"Cat has your brooding look already," I teased gently, watching as Kieran's finger grazed her tiny hand, her grip instinctively closing around it.

"Strong grip," he noted, the ghost of a smile dancing on his lips.

"And this little one here, he's got Tristan's charm," I continued, lifting Matteo from his bassinet. The infant settled into my arms with a contented sigh, and I held him out slightly toward Kieran. "Wants to be held by everyone."

"Seems like he'll be wrapping people around his little finger in no time." Kieran's guarded nature seemed to melt away in the presence of such innocence, his aura momentarily less brooding and more hopeful.

"Let's hope he uses that power for good," Tristan added, wheeling closer with a grin.

"Like his dad," Kieran shot back, a lightness in his tone that felt like a truce, a momentary peace in the turbulent sea of our lives.

"Exactly like his dad," I affirmed, sharing a knowing look with Tristan. Here, in this quiet Delaware house, we were just a family—complicated, fractured, but somehow, in moments like these, whole.

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