Tristan sat quietly in the driver's seat of Derek's car, staring out at the small town of Woodsville below. The dim lights shimmered under the vast blanket of stars as the night breeze cooled his flushed face. He took another swig from the bottle of whiskey they had been passing back and forth, the alcohol dulling the tension that had built up inside him after the conversation with his father.
Derek leaned back in the passenger seat, equally tipsy but observant enough to notice the storm brewing in Tristan's mind.
"Man," Derek said, glancing at Tristan, "you've been quiet since that talk with your dad. What's going on in your head?"
Tristan sighed, the weight of his thoughts settling heavily on his chest.
"It's just… everything, Derek. The estate, the business—it's falling apart, and I didn't even know. My dad didn't want to worry me, but now I'm in the middle of it. I feel like I should be doing something, helping him fix it."
Derek took the bottle from Tristan's hand and took a swig before offering it back.
"I get that you feel responsible, but you're still in college, Tristan. You don't need to carry this on your own. Your dad's been running the estate for years."
Tristan shook his head.
"That's the thing, though. He's been doing it for years, but it's not working anymore. If things keep going the way they are, we could lose everything. I just… I don't know what to do."
They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts as the car's windows fogged up from the cool night air outside and the warmth of their breaths inside. Tristan's mind was swirling, not just from the alcohol but from the realization that the life he'd known was fragile, and he had to step up to save it.
Derek broke the silence, his voice quieter now.
"You know… I hate to bring this up, but what about your grandfather?"
Tristan turned his head slowly, his brow furrowing. "My grandfather?"
"Yeah," Derek said, sitting up slightly. "I mean, you've told me bits and pieces, but I remember your dad doesn't talk about him much. Isn't he still out there? Living somewhere far off?"
Tristan frowned, his thoughts racing. His grandfather had always been a distant figure, someone who had faded from the family's conversations over the years.
"They don't talk. My dad's always avoided talking about him, and when I asked why, he'd just change the subject. Something happened between them a long time ago, but I've never known what."
"Maybe that's your answer," Derek said, his tone thoughtful. "I mean, your grandfather was the one who built the estate, right? He knows how it works better than anyone. If anyone could help get things back on track, it might be him."
Tristan sat up straighter, considering Derek's suggestion. It was true—his grandfather had been a formidable businessman in his day, building the family estate and business from the ground up. But something had happened between him and Tristan's father, something that had driven them apart. Could that something be so bad that it was worth risking the family's legacy over?
"I don't know," Tristan said, shaking his head slowly. "They haven't spoken in years. Whatever happened must have been serious for them to cut ties like that. I don't even know where my grandfather is living now."
Derek shrugged.
"Maybe it's worth finding out. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? You've already got a mess on your hands, right? Maybe your grandfather has some answers, some way to help."
Tristan stared out the window again, the whiskey fogging his judgment as much as his thoughts.
"Maybe," he murmured. "But I can't just bring this up with my dad. He's been so protective about the estate, about everything. If I go digging into old wounds, it might make things worse."
"Or it might be the only way to fix things," Derek countered, his voice soft but firm. "Sometimes, you've gotta confront the past to deal with the present. If your family's business is at stake, maybe it's time to ask the tough questions."
Tristan sighed heavily, feeling the weight of Derek's words sink in. He was right. Whatever had happened between his father and grandfather was buried in the past, but the consequences were playing out in the present. If there was even a chance that his grandfather could help, it was worth exploring. He couldn't stand by and watch everything his family had built crumble.
"Alright," Tristan said finally, his voice resolute. "I'll talk to him. My dad. I'll ask about my grandfather. But I don't know how he's going to react."
Derek nodded, handing Tristan the bottle once more.
"He might get pissed, but at least you'll have some answers. You deserve to know what's going on."
Tristan took another long swig of whiskey, the alcohol burning his throat but dulling his anxiety.
"Yeah," he agreed, "I need to know."
The night stretched on as they sat in the car, talking about everything and nothing, the weight of the conversation easing with each passing minute. Eventually, they both dozed off, the stars above keeping quiet vigil over their sleep.
When the sun broke over the horizon the next morning, Tristan groaned as the light hit his face. He blinked groggily, trying to piece together the night before. Derek stirred in the passenger seat beside him, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.
"Ugh, my head," Derek muttered, wincing from the hangover. "What time is it?"
Tristan glanced at his phone, squinting at the bright screen.
"Too early," he said, rubbing his face. "Come on, I'll drop you off at home."
They drove in silence, both of them nursing their hangovers and the heavy thoughts from the night before. When they reached Derek's house, Tristan pulled over and looked at his friend.
"Thanks for last night, man," Tristan said sincerely. "You gave me a lot to think about."
Derek nodded, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Anytime, man. You'll figure this out. Just talk to your dad. You've got this."
Tristan watched as Derek got out of the car and walked up to his house. Once Derek disappeared inside, Tristan sat there for a few more moments, gathering his thoughts before heading home.
Back at his family's estate, Tristan found his father in the study, going over some paperwork. His father glanced up as Tristan entered, his expression neutral but tired.
"Morning," his father said, a hint of surprise in his voice. "You're up early."
Tristan nodded, taking a deep breath as he approached the desk.
"Dad, can we talk?"
His father put down the papers, giving Tristan his full attention.
"Of course. What's on your mind?"
Tristan hesitated, unsure of how to approach the topic. But he knew he couldn't back down now.
"I've been thinking about the estate, about the business… and I know things aren't going well. I want to help, but I feel like there's more going on that I don't understand."
His father's expression tightened slightly, but he remained silent, waiting for Tristan to continue.
"And," Tristan added, his voice steady, "I was wondering about Grandpa. I know you don't talk about him, but Derek brought him up last night, and… I just don't get why you two stopped speaking. If he built this place, maybe he can help us get through this."
His father's face hardened at the mention of his own father, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
"Tristan, that's not something you need to worry about."
"But I am worried," Tristan pressed. "Dad, this is our family's legacy. If there's a chance Grandpa can help—"
"I said no, Tristan," his father interrupted sharply, his voice uncharacteristically stern.
"Your grandfather and I haven't spoken in years for a reason. Whatever happened between us is in the past, and it's staying there. I don't want you getting involved in that."
Tristan felt a surge of frustration rising within him.
"But why? What could have been so bad that it's worth risking everything we have now?"
His father stood up, his expression dark. "This isn't your problem to solve. I've been handling this estate for decades, and I'll handle it now. You focus on your studies and your future, not on things that don't concern you."
Tristan stared at his father, feeling a mixture of anger and confusion.
"I just want to help."
His father's gaze softened slightly, but he shook his head.
"I know you do, son. But trust me, some things are better left in the past."
With that, his father turned back to his paperwork, the conversation clearly over. Tristan stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of his father's words sink in. It was clear that whatever had happened between his father and grandfather wasn't going to be easily resolved.
But as Tristan left the study, one thing was certain in his mind: he couldn't ignore this any longer. No matter how hard his father tried to bury the past, Tristan knew that if he wanted to save the estate, he would have to uncover the truth—no matter the cost.