Piper

 

Curled up in a corner of the bookstore, I was lost to the world. I’d forgotten everything else but the words on the page. Plus, I’d bought a stack of almost ten books.

Balt wouldn’t be pleased with me, grumbling about how I was going to throw my back out with all the books I toted around, but I didn’t care. I’d even found one I thought he would like.

At that moment, my phone rang and I saw it was Balt. Grabbing up my stuff, I went outside and answered. But to my surprise, Desmond was on the other line.

“Hi, Piper,” Desmond said in a pained kind of voice. “Um, listen, Balt is a bit intoxicated.”

“What?” I exclaimed, gripping the phone. “How drunk is he?”

“He’s speaking Greek,” Desmond said in a quiet voice.

“Oh no,” I murmured. “I’ll be right there.”

Balt hadn’t gotten that drunk since our mid-twenties. He’d been a bigger drinker than I was, but we’d both petered out in the last five years as our bodies stopped recovering so quickly and easily. Balt especially had started to avoid drinking, maybe having one or two beers a week, his hangovers had gotten so bad. But he could still hold his own.

“Well, we’re not in the bar.” Desmond sounded distracted. “I realized he was getting bad and brought him outside for fresh air. Now we’re at my car. I was going to drive him to you, but I realized I’ve been drinking.”

“Desmond, didn’t you have like one beer?” I asked, trying to stifle a laugh.

“No, I had three,” he said stiffly. “That’s three too many.”

Oh, he was too much.

“Where are you?” I asked.

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself in a “car park” as the British called it and watching Desmond eye Balt as he talked fluently in Greek on a bench.

“How much did he drink?” I asked.

“The alcohol content of the beer around here is very high and Balt had like ten,” Desmond said. “So, like twenty in total.”

“Pipla!” Balt exclaimed getting up and staggering over, before throwing his arms around my neck. I sagged under his weight. “I missed you,” he said, before trailing off into Greek.

“Getting back to London should be fun,” I muttered, patting his back.

“Take my car,” Desmond offered. “Bring it back tomorrow or I can come get it.”

“Oh, Dez,” I paused and then pushed at Balt to make him stand up straight. He stopped leaning on me but wrapped an arm around my shoulders tightly and I winced. "I don't know. We're supposed to leave tomorrow afternoon for Southern France."

“I have tomorrow afternoon off. I’ll take the train and come get it. It’s no big deal.”

I hesitated, glancing between Desmond and Balt. “I could leave the key at the front desk.”

“Perfect. I’ve been meaning to get down to London anyway. Now I have the perfect excuse.” Desmond gave me a smile. “Seriously – it’s no big deal.”

“You’re the best,” I said fervently.

After we loaded Balt into Desmond’s car, I turned and hugged him. He gave me an awkward pat on the head and then glanced at Balt. “Look after him, would you? He’s making himself crazy.”

I nodded, biting my lip. I wanted to beg Desmond to tell me what he knew that I didn’t about Balt, but I held it in. “Thank you, Dez. I’ll call or text you if anything changes.”

“Bye! Enjoy the south of France. I’ll send some good restaurants and stuff to check out.”

The ride back to London was quiet as Balt fell asleep for most of it and then woke when we pulled into the underground garage of our hotel.

“Oh, my head already hurts,” he muttered, his dark eyes bleary as he gazed at me. “Goddamn English pubs.” Then he cursed and groaned in Greek as he sat up.

“Baltsaros Kazan, you are far too old to be blaming a pub for drinking too much.”

“I know, I know,” he said and gave me a sheepish smile. “I’m going to be hurting tomorrow.”

“Mm, should make the plane ride lots of fun.”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” Balt murmured. “Shit.”

“Come on,” I said, “Let’s get you to bed.”

Once Balt was tucked in, I quietly began to clean up and pack his room. He was snoring lightly, something he never did. As I checked his backpack over, I found one of his journals in the back pocket and ran my fingers over it. Pulling it out, I smiled at it. Balt had kept so many journals as a kid to improve his English that now it was an ingrained habit.

An envelope was poking out and I frowned, pulling it out a little further.

Piper

Heart skipping a beat, I pulled it out all the way and sat down on the floor heavily. Why was my name on an envelope I'd never seen before? From the quality of the paper, too, I could tell it was old and the edges were worn.

Slowly turning it over, I noted it wasn’t sealed and slipped out the letters inside. They were densely covered in writing and a few words jumped out at me as I stared at it.

Regret. Memories. Future.

Some paper was newer and brighter than the other pages. Opening the older ones, I noted that the handwriting wasn’t Balt of today, but of almost fifteen years ago.

Hesitant, I began to read the first page and a choking sensation rose in my throat.

Piper, I never wanted to write this. I never wanted to do this, please believe that.

If I could have anything in the world – it would be to never leave your side.

A soft cry left my throat and I tried to stifle it, as well as the fesootai – as I had all day – from waking Balt up. But I heard him stir and hastily refolded the letters, shoving them back inside the envelope. As I was putting the notebook back in his bag, a sleepy voice said my name.

"Piper," he said again. "Don't pack for me, it's fine." Turning, I saw him sitting up and giving me a sleepy look. "I'll do that in the morning."

He ambled by me, ruffling my hair and went into the bathroom. For a split second, I considered stealing the notebook, but what if he checked his bag when he came back? Getting to my feet, I fled into my own room and bathroom.

Splashing water on my face, I tried not to cry or scream.

What the hell did that mean? Why did he write that and never give it to me?

My stomach roiled and I wondered if I was about to throw up when a knock came at the bathroom door and I jumped.

“You okay, Piper? I’m out of it, but not so out of it I didn’t just realize the fesootai is…” He let out a sigh. “Will you tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

Swallowing, I walked over to the door and pressed my hand on it, picturing Balt on the other side. “I think the snack I had in the car disagreed with me, that’s all. And I'm stressed about flying tomorrow. Still have to pack. But I'm fine.”

The urge to open the door and demand he tell me what the hell that letter was about was overwhelming, but I pressed my hands flat to the door instead. It was so warm, I could pretend Balt was doing the same on the other side.

“Don’t worry so much, okay?” he murmured sounding unconvinced. “Night.”

Turning, I slid down to the floor and pressed my back against the wall. Mustering every ounce of strength I had, I dimmed the link of the fesootai.

Only then could I cry in peace.

 

When I woke up the next morning, thirsty, I shook my head as I reached for a water bottle. I never cried this much. Perhaps the TLO kidnapping me had undone my nerves more than I wanted to admit. For me and Balt.

Then, the memory of the letter hit me and I sat up, staring at the ajar door between our rooms. Heart pounding in my ears, I clenched and unclenched the blankets. Why?

Balt was the one person I could always count on. I’d never ever imagined a life without him. It was my absolute worst nightmare.

Part of me almost felt that was weak and needy of me, but another part of me recognized that it was a great measure of strength that we had such a supportive bond. One filled with honesty, respect, and trust.

I took several deep breaths. I had no reason not to trust Balt.

Not yet.

“Hey, I’m awake before you?” Balt asked, poking his head in and bringing in a mug of coffee. “You sleep okay?” he asked with a frown.

I’d barely slept, but I nodded and picked up my phone. With a gasp, I realized I’d slept through the alarm and kicked off the covers. “Dammit! Dammit, I wanted to take a shower.”

“Oh, yeah we have to leave in like ten minutes. I thought you were up.”

“I wish you’d thought to check,” I muttered under my breath as I frantically looked around.

“Do you need help?” Balt asked.

“No,” I said stiffly. “I need you to leave so I can get dressed.” I softened my tone and turned around. “Thank you, though. And actually, could you get me coffee, please?”

I offered him a weak smile as he nodded and closed the door between our rooms behind him. My smile wobbled and an ache went through my body. It was going to be a long day.

After throwing my bag together, I put on sweats, a hot pink baseball hat that belonged to Soraya that she’d forgotten and nearly lost an eye trying to dab a little mascara on.

Giving up, I went to find Balt, who handed me a Styrofoam cup of coffee, which I promptly dropped as we got on the elevator and it splashed across my shoes and legs.

Staring at the puddle, I repressed the hysterical urge to start crying as Balt patted my shoulder. “We’ll get you a Starbucks red-eye at the airport.”

But at the airport, the security lines were so intense, we had to rush to our gate, only to find the flight was delayed. As we went to find seats, I tripped over my bag and Balt grabbed my arm to keep me from falling onto my face.

“Piper,” he murmured as he pulled us to an empty, small sofa. “What’s up? Talk to me.”

“Nothing,” I said, giving him a bright smile. “I’m frazzled from oversleeping. Need coffee.”

He smiled back and put his hands on my shoulders, peering into my face. My heart turned over in my chest. Stop being so handsome.

“Well, I’ll go get you some,” Balt said. “We’ve got plenty of time. Sit. Relax.”

With that, he turned and walked off into the airport and I sank into a chair. The noise and hubbub of the airport washed over me and made my head ache. Snatches of conversation were filtering in and out. One caught my attention suddenly.

“God, did you see that guy?” a young, eager female voice asked somewhere in my periphery, her high voice cutting through my head. “He was a chiseled dreamboat.”

“Ugh, I know. But that’s his girlfriend though – over there in the pink hat. I saw him with her earlier. Like, they’re both gorgeous – the perfect couple.”

Face burning, I looked up and met the inquisitive gazes of two giggling twenty-year-olds, who promptly whirled around and laughed harder. They couldn't have any idea my hearing was good enough to hear them from all the way over there, but their words kept bumping through my brain.

It wasn’t the first time people had thought we were a couple.

However, before, I’d always laughed it off and ignored the pinch in my heart.

But now my chest was splitting open and my heart was raw with agony. Putting my hands over my face, I tried to hold in the tears, but soon my face was damp and I was drawing in shuddering breaths. What had happened after the desert to cause this? Why couldn’t I get a grip?

“Piper,” Balt suddenly said in an intense voice and I froze.

I heard him rustling as he put things down and then sat down next to me, dragging my hands from my face. His own was filled with such concern it almost broke my heart.

“What – what is it? What’s wrong?” He glanced at my phone. “Is everyone okay?”

Balt thought I’d gotten a bad phone call. I wiped at my face, humiliated at being caught out and wondered if the fesootai had alerted him. I couldn’t even tell anymore. “Yes, I’m sorry. It’s because I didn’t sleep and I’m PMS-ing,” I lied.

Balt looked confused. “Isn’t that in another few weeks or so?”

Oh, Balt. Shit, you know everything, don’t you?

Closing my eyes, I felt my face crumple and Balt made a sound of distress as my hold on the fesootai all but vanished. He pulled me into his chest, which had become a far too familiar spot in the last week. But I couldn't pull away and instead, I wept.

Over and over, he begged me to tell him what was wrong, but I’d only shake my head.

I couldn’t tell him.

Balt, who I told everything.

Because everything had changed.

I tried to tell myself it wasn’t the end of everything. I tried. But I knew. Knew beyond a doubt. Everything else was pretense at this point. The sense my soul was being slowly and carefully shredded into pieces was proof enough. Never mind the fact that Balt was asking me instead of knowing.

Balt doesn’t know what’s wrong, I thought, shaking and numb.

Our bond, that perfect synchronicity and strength, was broken.

And I’d broken along with it.