22: The truth of it

*Tristan*

I am mucking things up. Royally. I can’t remember the last time that I had handled a situation so poorly. Perhaps when my brothers first returned. I remember the hearty hug that Raphael had given Stephan, and how I had ached because the thought of being wrapped that tightly by such strong arms had forced me to distance myself, to shove whiskey into their hands, to give no indication that I desperately wanted to share in such a joyous reunion.

I had been angry with them then. I still am, but it was the fear of what they might realize, what they might understand of my past that held me back.

I am having a difficult enough time as it is allowing Eve to cling to my arm as we stroll through the rookeries. But I can’t risk anyone thinking that she isn’t with me. I have a reputation down here. I do not come often anymore, but legends grow with absence, and enough people would remember me that I know we won't be accosted.

I had come to understand at breakfast that she isn’t f