Balt
I was sitting on the rooftop of a hotel in the Vauxhall district of London, eyelids heavy as I stared up at the orange-washed storm clouds and river mist brushed my face. It was around 2 a.m. London time, which meant it was only 6 p.m. LA time. I was completely thrown off.
Soraya and Piper couldn’t wait to crash and had fallen asleep promptly in their room. I, however, had tossed and turned until the need for fresh air became overwhelming.
Not to mention, when I’d fallen asleep briefly, I’d slipped into a new, recurring nightmare about Piper locked in a cage and pleading for my help.
It wasn’t the Piper of today, but a far more vulnerable and fragile one. Piper at fifteen, her blue eyes enormous in a thin and sad face. When she’d suffered a loss that rewrote her. When she’d cried in my arms for days and struggled to get out of bed. When I’d worried she wouldn’t get through the pain or would buckle under her new responsibilities.
But she had. She’d done it all.
Seeing fifteen-year-old Piper in that cage, terrified and reaching for me – as I was pinned to the ground, unable to scream, help, or move, only stare helplessly – was a new fresh hell my mind had cooked up for me. This is the fate of a Kazan male, a voice would sneer. Useless. Weak.
Cursed.
Rain began to fall, but I ignored it. I was lost in recollection of the past two days. Arguing with Piper in the hallway and getting us both into trouble. The strained conversations as we got ready for London and then the interminable plane ride, with Soraya dozing in the seat in front of us.
Piper seemed shell-shocked, almost, her usually bright face devoid of any light.
While part of me wondered if she blamed me for it and felt a perverse relief if that was the case, another part of me was sick about it. Had I tainted the Weslark name?
Exhaustion was creeping up on me and I allowed myself to fantasize for a moment that I wasn’t a Kazan. I wasn’t cursed – I wouldn’t have to one day push Piper out of my life and meet whatever grim end fate had doled out for me.
Instead, I could expect Piper to follow me up here, smiling through the rain as it soaked through her shirt and stuck to her lithe, muscled body. Drenched her dark curls. She’d walk up to me slowly, eyes glowing and I’d reach out, hands landing on her waist, before–
“Since when do you like the rain?” Piper’s sleepy voice was in my ear and her arms were around my neck. My entire body tensed as she pressed against my back and then her cheek brushed mine. “Balt, what’s wrong?”
“Piper,” I exuded her name in a shaky breath, my sluggish thoughts going haywire and my body lighting up in response to her touch. “I-I-what are you doing up here?”
“Oh no, big guy, you’re not throwing this back on me.” She paused. “I’m worried about you.” Piper pulled back and I turned to see her face inches from mine.
This is bad.
Shifting, I tried to detangle her and bring her around, but Piper’s eyes became slits, so I stopped, my hands on her wrists. She was warm and it was a delicious kind of feeling.
For a moment, I wondered if I was dreaming.
“Bad dream,” I croaked out, then cleared my throat, looking away. “Sorry.”
Piper’s arms vanished and her body pulled away, causing both relief and agony. She wasn’t usually given to a lot of physicality, unlike Soraya who would hug a stranger if she liked their hat. A quick squeeze was about all Piper liked.
Yet now she sat next to me and pressed her side against mine. Unable to help myself, I slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
This is friendly, I told myself. This is what friends do.
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Piper asked, her hand brushing my thigh and I almost jumped out of my skin. “I’m sorry, Balty.”
My heart seemed to sag in my chest. Balty was a childhood nickname that had fallen out of use with everyone except Piper on rare, intimate occasions.
“No, Piper, it’s not,” I murmured, feeling sickened and guilty.
It wasn’t her fault that the darkest and bleakest of prospects had undone years of carefully tiptoeing and shoving down an ocean of feelings that were now rising like a tidal wave.
“At least make it a convincing lie,” she said, letting out a weak laugh. “Come on, hon, tell me what I can do.”
“Such a Weslark,” I murmured. Piper’s presence was always a salve for my fevered soul, no matter what else she brought up. “You all always want to do something. This is enough.”
No matter how dangerous this was, I couldn’t help but smile at her as she gave me a dubious look and then a reluctant smile spread across her face. Piper’s smile was a radiant wonder – a shooting star in the night. My hand itched to cup her cheek, but I forced it to stay where it was.
“Balt, you know you’re my best friend, right?” Piper asked.
I laughed. “Yes, Pipla.” My own nickname for her – a combination of Piper and her real name, Palila. Memories of the last twenty-seven years we’d spent together flashed through my mind and my smile grew. Racing our bikes, surfing, swapping secrets and laughing. “Best friends.”
“Okay, well then, you know you can talk to me.” She reached out and laced her fingers through the hand I’d been trying to tame, causing me to swallow hard. “If you’re pissed about this, I’d prefer to have you yell at me and take me to task than hold it all in.”
For a second, I looked down at our interlaced hands, wondering if it was Piper’s heartbeat or mine that I could feel. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to hold onto this moment.
She was here. She was safe. All of that was behind us.
“I’m not pissed,” I said slowly as I opened my eyes. “A lot has happened is all - I’m reeling still. But I think some field work will do us both good.”
I squeezed her gently and stood up. I had to let her go as I knew I was pushing it right now. My resolve had been shattered to pieces in the last few weeks. And it was only a matter of time before Piper figured out the real reason I was pushing her away.
We have to go back to the way things were. Before…
Suddenly Piper crashed into me, wrapping her arms around me and rasping out, “Please, please don’t hate me, Balt. I’m going to make this up to you, I promise.”
The scent of the desert, dry and cold hit me. Blood and fear. Acrid smoke.
Piper’s blue eyes behind bars.
Unable to hold it in, I crushed her against me as I had that night.
That night. After so many days of agony and rage – days where I could barely remember my own name or keep from putting my fist through a wall – the sight of Piper, alive but imprisoned had broken something inside of me.
Followed by a feeling of relief that had been so acute it had almost hurt. I’d torn through that place to get to her, slicing the metal to ribbons like it was paper.
Her arch voice teasing but shaking in a way only I'd notice. Geez, miss me?
Missing her wasn’t even the half of it. Those days where I hadn’t known if Piper was alive or dead, being tortured or locked in some hole had been a passage of time I didn’t think I’d survive.
“I was so scared,” I murmured, eyes squeezed shut. Tiredness made my tongue trip up and admit things I shouldn’t. “It was a fear that ripped me apart, unmade me and bared my soul like flesh to a blade.”
A shudder went through Piper and her arms tightened.
But she said nothing and I pulled away, knowing I’d crossed a line for the first time.
Since I was already over…
My hand found her face. “Piper, my God, I could never hate you. I-I’m struggling to forgive myself.” I paused. “And maybe forgive you. I know you’re strong, but you’re my best friend, too. You needed me, Piper.” I gripped her shoulders now. “You needed me and I wasn’t there.”
Her lips trembled. “I was scared too, Balt.”
Eyes wide, I felt my heart beating as I saw a fragile look come into Piper’s eyes. As rare as it was another facet of her blazing beauty. “Oh,” I said.
“Not for me,” she murmured, looking away. “For you, Balt. I was afraid you would do something reckless to get to me and I heard them talking about the Kazan family…”
My throat tightened. Why did she think that? Did she suspect…?
"I was wrong, though," she said. "You would've followed protocol and Isla would never have put herself in danger. I screwed up so many times, Balt. I deserve to be on probation. You don't."
Relief and disappointment mingled. She still doesn’t know. Good. Forcing a laugh, I let her go and folded my arms. “Well, I don’t know about that. Besides, what would I do with myself without you?” My tone was jovial and friendly. “We’re a team, Piper.”
“Still best friends?” Piper asked with a grin.
“Always,” I said, grinning back.
She yawned. “Alright, come on then, big guy. Bed – we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”
Following her downstairs, I tried not to notice the way the light followed the raindrops sliding through her hair or across her bare shoulders. Or the way she smiled as she let herself quietly into our adjoining rooms.
Best friends forever that smile seemed to say.
Why couldn’t that be enough? Why did I have to want so much more?