The Worst Choices Blog You’ve Ever Seen

Drake bounced on his toes as he pulled the tight white costume pants up over his thighs. As ridiculous as he’d felt looking at the get up, the little dance he had to do just to squeeze into it was worse. Definitely worse. He could hear his friends just on the other side of the dressing room door, gushing over Liam in his Lord Fabian inspired cape. Brooks was sure to go cross eyed seeing her fiancée dressed up like a matador and the awkward silence confirmed it. Maxwell jokingly had to pull them apart and Drake was glad for the separation.

Bang, bang. “Doin okay, buddy?” Maxwell called through the door, chipper as always.

“Yeah, I’m-“ Drake looked down at the front half of his trousers that fell open and grunted. “S’great.” He fiddled with the antique laces until his junk felt secure behind the thick white fabric and squatted to test its resilience. The costume was more… form fitting than he remembered it being on Liam, but it had been at least a year and Drake was not exactly of princely build. He turned over his shoulder to look at himself in the floor length mirror and groaned at the way the fabric clung to his backside. One wrong move and he’d be busting out of the trousers, he just knew it. Even worse, Brooks was liable to comment on “dat ass” with encouragement from Maxwell and Drake wasn’t sure he could stomach even light hearted teasing.

“Okay… well you’re taking a while, so I’m going to change right out here.”

“What?” Drake reached for the door to stop him.

“Too late! Don’t open the door unless you want to see my butt!”

Drake shut it the minuscule amount and double checked the lock before turning back to the mirror. His white shirt was tucked smoothly into his pants and he took the moment to tug on the shined black boots in the corner. They rose up almost to his knees and Drake shuffled forward like a pirate mid perry before shaking his head at himself and reached for the embroidered coat that hung next to the mirror. Hopefully it would hang far enough below his waist and he could avoid comments about his rear. He carefully fastened the matching vest over his chest, tugging it down to cover the laces on his pants before slipping his arms into the heavy sleeves of the overcoat. Thick blue fabric weighed down by the most intricate gold embroidery he'd ever see on himself. He looked… good. The Noble get up wasn’t usually his style, but Drake couldn’t deny it was flattering. All that was left was the starched white cravat hanging on the back of the door. Drake eyed it before throwing his hands up. Maxwell was just going to have to do that part.

Just then his annoying friend pounded on the door again, making Drake jump back in surprise.

“All done, see ya out there, buddy!” His bubbly voice fading as he sauntered out of the dressing area.

Well, shit.

…

“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?” Joanna whispered harshly.

“I’m a prince,” Leo reminded her at a normal volume that, coupled with an ornate chandelier suddenly being illuminated, made Joanna cringe. The room before her was draped in satiny pinks and embroidered pillows, with heavy curtains lining the semi circle layout. It was a lot. “I’m allowed everywhere.” Leo’s voice made Joanna jump when he appeared suddenly behind her.

He strolled through the room looking somehow more at home there than the colorful den in Marrakech where he introduced her to proper shisha or lounging carelessly in white robe sipping tea after visiting a hammam in Tunis or napping on a beach off the coast of Sicily sandwiched comfortably between two Albanian models… and he looked quite at home everywhere they’d stopped so far. The journey from Spain to the Mediterranean cliffside where the wedding of the century took place was longer than necessary, but admittedly exciting. Leo’s itinerary included every exotic locale that Joanna had only ever dreamed of and made it exceptionally difficult to dislike the prince. Tagging along as his date was a small price to pay for the adventure of a lifetime. The mysterious Kate married her beloved sailor, Dean, and Leo had been in a delightful stage of denial before and after the nuptials, but Joanna watched the prince’s heart shatter slowly with every vowed syllable. Deciding not to shove him off when Leo’s head slumped into her shoulder, it was clear they were becoming friendly if not outright friends.

A fact that she questioned almost immediately after the wedding, when the prince dragged her out onto the dance floor. His heart was heavy, but Leo managed to be light on his feet as he spun Joanna around like they’d done it a thousand times. It was exhilarating and he’d chosen the exact moment her smile was widest to tell her their next stop was Cordonia. Leo watched her smile fade into something unreadable, like Liam’s face when he’s stuck overthinking. The prince wasn’t always the best at brothering, but he was capable of learning from his own mistakes and led Joanna off the dancefloor toward the bar. Her nose crumpled up at the sight of a brightly colored signature drink, but accepted it -and finished it- quickly. He presented her options. She could accompany him to Cordonia for the Costume Gala or they could part ways at the wedding and she could find her own way home, wherever that was. The ultimatum seemed to work for Joanna and without much further discussion on the matter, she and Leo were changing out of their wedding attire and into something fit for travel, the prince grinning knowingly at her the whole flight.

Joanna dragged her hands over a pair of white french doors and opened them with a flourish, half expecting bluebirds to fly out from between the rows of gowns. Her fingers had just curled around the hem of a simple black dress, when Leo leapt from his seat on an overstuffed settee to crowd Joanna from behind. She shot him a warning look and made to move away, but Leo was faster. Taking her by the waist, with objection, he wheeled her around to a different door that, when opened, revealed much more color than the one Joanna had chosen.

“Costume Gala,” Leo reminded her pointedly. “The flashier the better, I’m afraid.” He spotted her start to build an argument in her head and quickly added, “you’ll stand out more in something simple. If you want to blend in,” he lifted both shoulders, as if leaving the choice up to her, but Joanna didn’t feel like there was much of a choice. She eyed Leo carefully as he pulled something bright orange from the fold.

Joanna’s head shook slowly before ever opening her mouth to say, “no no no no-” but Leo ignored her, draping the ostentatiously feathered gown over a round leather pouf before he snatched a black garment bag from another door entirely and disappeared behind one of the pink curtains. She must have spent too long gawking at the dress, for when Leo reappeared, it was still on the furniture instead of on her.

“Well, my father’s expecting me,” he shrugged, pausing to tug the blue sash across his chest and adjust the few medals over his heart. Leo glanced at the dress then back up at Joanna without an ounce of sympathy in his sarcastic smile. “Join us when your dressed.” And he was out the door, popping his head back in shortly after, but only to tell her to follow the music.

Joanna stopped herself mid eyeroll, realizing that she’d be walking through a royal palace completely companionless and following the music might be her only chance at actually finding the person she wanted to see. She chewed on her bottom lip nervously and lifted the gown from its place to hold up to her chest, twisting gently before the full length mirror in the corner to watch the fabric curl around her shins. Taking a deep breath, she locked eyes with herself in the glass.

Here we go.

…

If only tying his own neckpiece had been the most taxing part of the evening. That was embarrassingly hopeful thinking on Drake’s part and he knew it. He still had mingling and dancing to deal with, but at least those activities came with a drink. Or two. When he spotted Leo entering the ballroom, fashionably late, Drake immediately turned away in favor of the dance floor, accepting when Riley Brooks asked him to escort her since Liam was with his father and Regina. It seemed like a good idea at the time, he’d even managed to keep his feet in time with a Viennese Waltz, until Neville Vancoeur decided to make his presence and his arrogance known. The normal jibes weren’t enough for the pompous asshat and while Drake was giving as good as he got, there was no way he was prepared to see a white glove tossed ceremoniously at his feet.

A duel. The first honor duel in Cordonia in over a hundred years. Or so said the excited whispers rippling through the crowd that had gathered in the courtyard to watch him select a sabre from the humblest display plucked out of the palace armory. The steel laid out ceremoniously across crushed black velvet glittered while reflecting the dramatic flaming torches that had been lit specifically for the gala’s aesthetic. Drake scanned each weapon carefully, though he was out of his league. He locked eyes with Brooks and nodded for her to join him. As expected, the whole group of friends followed her without question and after a brief, but embarrassing display of Maxwell’s inability to be near weaponry without drawing blood, Olivia blessedly offered her expertise without Drake having to ask. He hoped she hadn’t noticed the relief in his stature as he lifted her choice of blade and held it nose high to glance down the length. Madeline stepped up then, reminding him that losing an honor duel wouldn’t necessarily harm his family name -since there was nothing worth harming- but would look bad for Liam and Riley as they continued with their engagement tour. Drake took a deep breath, stopping himself before saying something to make everything worse, and lowered the heavy sword. Brooks reminded Madeline that he was defending her honor as much as his own, while Liam pulled him aside and reminded him how brave he was for accepting at all.

“You’re the toughest person I know, Drake,” Liam nodded in encouragement. “You can do this.”

Constantine, looking far too giddy for a man of his age, called for the duel to begin and Drake was ushered to the middle of the murmuring crowd to face off against Neville. Eyeing his opponent’s ugly plaid suit and spit shined shoes and smug little smirk under dark eyes, Drake was reminded that Neville was nothing more than a stuffy nobel. Someone who’d lived his life behind the ivy covered walls of the Cormery Isle, someone who’d never known struggle or sweat. This bolstered Drake’s confidence as he bowed his head, watching Neville stiffly return the gesture. “Let the duel…” the king started in a raspy, yet regal tone, “...BEGIN!”

Neville lunged forward immediately and though Drake blocked the initial attack, he stumbled back, shocked that a man like Neville had the balls to strike first and strike hard. The lord’s next swing was at Drake’s head, causing the commoner to drop out of the way just in time. Drake looked up into the pinched face of his rival and felt something he hadn’t been expecting. Fear.

Oh shit, Drake thought to himself, scrambling to stand again before Neville could swing on him a third time, and extending the blade out, fortified by the cries of his friends behind him.

...

The sleeves of her dress sat lower on her shoulders than she liked, the plunge of her neckline deeper than anything in her own closet made Joanna stand a little taller just to keep the heavy fabric from slipping down her chest. She stepped carefully down the halls of the Palace. Mindful of the short hem across the tops of her thighs, Joanna took short steps without dragging her feet so as not to trip on the long train behind her. The long glittery sleeves were an oddly modest touch on a dress that had orange and red feathers adorning her hips and breasts. The boning over her stomach straightened her spine and lifted her cleavage in ways her twenty year old self would have cringed at. Despite feeling both out of place and on display, there was an anxious little flutter in her gut at the prospect of seeing Drake again while dressed like a literal princess. She hadn’t taken the time to think about actually seeing her exboyfriend again, overcome the need to do so as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Between the closeness, Leo’s obvious scheming, and learning that Drake had been shot by terrorists, Joanna’s insecurities had no place and were drowned out by the need to see Drake Walker for herself, see that he was alright, hug him until he pulled away. But now… knowing he was in the same building, there developed a slightly larger fluttering at the prospect of seeing Drake on the arm of a literal princess. It was unlikely given what Leo had told her, but how much would Leo know after spending all his time either on a cruise ship or with her, partying his way back to Cordonia? There wasn’t time to dwell on that thought before she found herself at the giant ballroom doors, pushing one side until it gave way and opened at the top of a small, but no less grand set of stairs.

Joanna closed her eyes and stepped through the doors, taking a centering breath before opening them to gaze upon…

An empty ballroom.

Without the grace she’d planned to use, Joanna hastened down the half set of stairs and into the heavily decorated room only to find herself alone. A handful of servers were scattered and only half of the band continued to play, their song echoing eerily without the din of conversation or the insulation of bodies winding under the chandeliers. She must have looked as gobsmacked as she felt. Within only a few moments of gawking at the vacant dancefloor, a silver tray carrying untouched champagne flutes appeared before her. Joanna blinked dumbly as a crystal glass was offered to her and shook her head no.

“Everyone’s in the courtyard,” the girl wielding the tray informed Joanna, nodding toward a wall of floor to ceiling windows, lit up from the outside by torches. “The first honor duel in a century,” the girl whispered, a certain wistfulness in her voice, as she gazed out the windows next to Joanna. They both stood without speaking for a few more moments. Joanna was much more prepared a few moments ago, when she was sure that she’d spot Drake before he spotted her. Now, she’d be stepping into an historic event that was admittedly way cooler than her arrival in Cordonia.

The girl next to her sighed as she turned to leave. “I hope Mr. Walker wins.”

And at that, Joanna’s eyes widened.

“What did you say?”

...

“Do you know what I despise most about you and your kind, Walker?” Neville taunted, shuffling his feet gracefully as Drake carefully mirrored his steps.

“Got a feeling I’m about to hear it either way,” Drake ground out, watching his nemesis carefully, waiting for the twitch of an arm or a stuttered step to give his next move away.

“Astute,” Neville chuckled, eye the crowd around them as if to garner their support. “What I despise most… is that you have no respect for your betters.”

Drake cocked his head at that, fighting a grin as he glanced at Neville’s hesitant steps. “I have plenty of respect for my betters,” he countered, then narrowed his eyes. “Just don’t consider you one of them.”

The murmuring around them picked up around them and Neville looked agitated as a few snickers rose above the whispers. Drake swung and swung hard, using the distraction to force Neville back toward the crowd, which responded with a cloud of gasps. A few bootlickers supported the lord’s shoulders and pushed him back into the circle to face Drake again.

“Brute strength…” Neville sneered, “about what I expected from you!” With surprising elegance, his next thrust darted through the air and tore into Drake’s side so quickly the blade whistled.

Drake cried out, grabbing at his side where warmth bloomed under his ribs and spilled out through his fingers.

“DRAKE!”

He turned his head toward the voice that tore through the crowd before the body wielding it had fully emerged. People of all stations sidestepped at the distressing sound and as they parted, a vision in orange feathers materialized before him. No, he swayed. He hadn’t lost enough blood for hallucinations. Not yet at least.

“Oh m- somebody stop this! He’s bleeding!” the voice called out again and god, if it didn’t sound just like his Malone…

“Nonsense,” Olivia scoffed from nearby, crossing her arms as two guards stepped in front of the stranger to stop her from throwing herself directly into the circle. “You’d be surprised the amount of blood a man can lose and still emerge victorious from battle.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Malone. It had to be. Drake steadied himself as his eyes roved over her, looking so different in court worthy clothing, yet somehow like she belonged there, struggling against the shoulders of the men blocking her way. He couldn’t help but smile, ignoring the banter that continued on around him. Brooks and Hana and Olivia going back and forth with vaguely encouraging, but also disturbing things to say on his behalf. Whatever honor he’d felt at the beginning of the duel was dwindling as he looked on through a new perspective. We probably look like lunatics to you, Malone. Not far off.

The worst of them, however, still had a sword in hand and was ready to continue on, regardless of Drake’s level of distraction. The two traded parries and the singing of steel drowned out the crowd’s concern. Neville’s next swing came down from overhead and Drake lifted his sword to block, the crossed blades in front of his face a sobering sight. Drake threw his body weight into his next thrust, forcing Neville back a step and regaining the upper hand. Even Olivia sounded impressed with the trade. Drake lunged forward again, but Neville quickly sidestepped, favoring Drake’s left side. The next thing he knew, his arm was pulled and twisted, pain radiating from his still tender shoulder. Drake cried out loudly and swore at Neville. Typical Vancouer, acting without an ounce of honor even during a duel.

“Liam! Do something!” Malone called out again and Drake winced, collapsing to his knees. The blade slid from his hand as he reached up to clutch his own shoulder, steel clattering against stone sounding too much like defeat. As Neville taunted him from above, reminding him of his place in the dirt, Drake watched his friend halt Joanna from climbing over the guards to end the fight herself. No doubt Liam would explain that things like this could not be stopped, even by the prince. He heard Neville’s demands for his last words, bearing down on him like years of verbal abuse come to a head, but Drake’s eyes were on Joanna. The girl that knew him unlike anyone else in this world, the girl who’d only ever known him as a commoner yet loved him more than anyone else and made him feel powerful just with a look. He watched her worried face fall as Liam spoke directly into her ear, but then it unexpectedly hardened again. His girl wouldn't watch him fall tonight.

-

Joanna leapt forward again, not to evade guards or interrupt the conflict, but to make herself seen and heard over any others that might distract Drake from victory. After Liam’s brief history of the Walkers’ treatment in Cordonia, Joanna realized that the duel wasn’t merely between Drake and this Neville character, but rather between everything they stood for. How poetic. And how truly like Drake, to do more, to be more than anyone expected of him. It was an honor to watch him do that, even if she didn’t fully understand why it had to be in a duel.

On the other hand… he looked really good, dressed like a prince and wielding a heavy sword… It was like a fantasy. A literal fantasy world with glittering halls and women dripping with jewels and men with more influence than anyone she’d ever met. And there in the middle of it all… Drake Walker. The boy who made her feel like someone important, like someone worth loving. How could the boy who preferred chocolate milk in his cereal and sleeping in the woods also exist in a place as shiny and self righteous as this? The way this Vancouer fellow sneered down at Drake, blade poised for a final blow rather than surrender, confirmed that the boy she loved and the man she knew would only belong in a place like this if he made it so.

“He doesn’t know anything about you!” A girl in a white feathered gown, looking like a dove or an angel on Liam’s arm, shouted to Drake, pulling his eyes from Joanna for only a moment, but enough to make her miss them.

“Drake!” Joanna hollered louder, drawing the brown eyes back to hers. They stared at each other in a way she couldn’t remember ever looking at anyone else. Like everything unspoken was understood, but still a hopeful look, like there was ample more. Like there was room for each other still. “Show him,” she yelled for him, before changing her mind. “Show them who you are!”

Drake nodded, a grin flashing quickly before disappearing all together as he looked back at Neville, glaring defiantly in the face of arrogant courtiers. Joanna noticed the tension in his body, rippling through him until every muscle was wound tight, ready to strike. His fists clenched and though the left released after only a moment, the knuckles on his right were white. “Yeah… I have something to say. I still have one good arm.”

Neville frowned, then stumbled back as Drake awkwardly swung with his bad arm, knocking his sword out of the way. Just then Drake rose up, throwing his right fist and all of his weight behind a wild haymaker that landed on Neville’s jaw, sending the nobleman reeling back. The sword tumbled from his hand and Drake, in a swift catch, took up his opponent’s sword and held the sharp tip against Neville’s neck, drawing a single drop of blood. Joanna’s stomach lept within her, relief and pride sending her up onto her toes. She sucked in her lips to bite back the cheers building up in her chest.

“Any last words?” Drake asked smugly and it took everything in her not to jump him there.

Neville scrambled to yield, the King stepped forward to declare Drake Walker the victor of the first honor duel in a hundred years, and Joanna watched as congratulations were passed with big beaming smiles. She grinned herself as a young woman, nearly as tall as Drake in her heels, slid under his good arm and made herself smaller to hug him properly. His tired head leaned into the woman’s and that signature Walker brown hair disappeared against hers. Savannah. Joanna hadn’t seen a photo of the girl since she was sixteen and now a nervous looking man in a sweater vest was passing a child into her arms while she kissed her brother’s cheek. The toddler stretched for Drake next, but his mother tightened her grip as Drake hid a pained smile behind a scrunched up face to tease the kid from a safe distance, baring his teeth like a tiger and leaning in to kiss a round cheek when a hug would be too difficult. He shook his head at something someone said, but it was obvious the moment he caught Joanna in his periphery. Time slowed down even as her heart beat a little faster. Rooted to the ground, watching as Drake pushed his way through a congratulatory crowd and towards her. An old man with wirey eyebrows- and a costume more comical yet obviously regal even in this collection of wealth- stood apart, declaring that everyone should return to the ballroom for the remainder of the gala. Joanna watched, amused, as Drake’s attempts to finally make his way over were once again interrupted by a continuous stream of final pats on the back before everyone went back inside. Her smile broke into a more annoyed laugh than amused one when, of course, Drake was intercepted by a small team of the palace’s medical staff and pushed back the way he’d come. He was visibly annoyed that such a short distance between them still proved to be so difficult, but his right arm shot up over the heads around him, gesturing for Joanna to meet him halfway. Deciding to put the man out of his misery, he had just won a duel after all, she obliged.

“Miss, we need to-”

“She stays,” Drake interrupted before anyone could object to Joanna’s presence and locked his good hand into one of hers, pulling her from her place waiting politely just outside the circle of medics until she stumbled into his side. His hand squeezed hers tight as two sets of hands removed half of his costume and bandaged up his side. Joanna brushed her fingers over the embroidered coat where it hung limply around Drake’s forearm, as far off as it could be without him releasing her hand. Something he objected to right away. They were quiet, while gauze and tape was layered on. Drake squeezed her hand again when he felt Joanna’s mind drifting away, offering tight smiles so sincere they made her heart hurt. The question of whether he’d want to see her withered away as he ducked his head, about to speak, but the team working on his left side finished up, interrupting yet again. Drake closed his eyes, turned toward the men and women removing their gloves and thanked them.

“Drake-”

He shook his head, grunting a little as he slid off the fountain he’d been sitting on. He only dropped Joanna’s hand then to pull his shirt and jacket back on and without asking or being asked, she moved to hold the stiff fabric steady while he guided his sore arm in.

“Not here,” his eyes flit around, pausing on the large windows of the ballroom. Lights and music and the occasional curious eye still filtered through them. “I wanna show you something.”

Joanna nodded, taking his hand again, and let him lead her away from the large stone fountains into a much smaller courtyard. Expertly trimmed hedges and lush flowering bushes provided an illusion of privacy in the middle of a decadent night. There were only a handful of tall lamp lights casting shadows from the greenery and small fairy lights that somehow both honored the darkness and bathed the alcove in a glow. It was the kind of fantasy setting that fit perfectly with her image of Cordonia, a coastal kingdom with princes and balls and apparently also sword fighting. Neither of them said much as they settled on a stone ledge, hidden away from the world and surrounded only by beautiful things. Lights, buttresses, flowers, each other. There was too much to give voice to any one thing over another and the silence was easier to swallow, easier to sit in.

Drake grunted softly as he turned, pulling Joanna’s hands into his lap where his arm could hang comfortably limp, while still caressing her knuckles under his thumb. “You look like you belong here,” he mused, taking the quiet moment to fully appreciate the orange gown that had folded up under Joanna, long feathered edges falling around their feet.

“I don’t,” she laughed, leaning forward a bit without thinking and Drake caught her then. Just as their foreheads touched in a tender kiss, he lifted his chin, let his nose slide up against the side of hers nudging the familiar planes of her face against his own. The noise she made at his half nuzzle felt like butterflies against his cheek, beating wings that made their way past his throat and into his belly, they spurred him forward until it was lips that rolled up to find hers. Joanna’s smile didn’t dissolve immediately and feeling it against his own felt better than he expected. She sighed, that smile falling into open mouthed kisses that still tasted like laughter on Drake’s tongue. Yes, he corrected in his head, thinking not of Cordonia or balls or palaces, but of his arms… his heart, you do. His hand, weak but determined, found its way to her cheek, cradling the moment carefully while making sure it wouldn’t slip away. Their bodies inched closer, the short front of Joanna’s skirt was caught on the rough stone beneath them, opening for Drake’s other hand as he leaned forward more. He didn’t even notice that he’d guided them down, prone on the ledge, his knees dimpled by the gravelly surface through Liam’s perfect white pants. Joanna’s hands were on his neck, sliding from the sides to the back and up into his hair like her fingers missed him as much his missed her. The fingers of his right hand had found their way up the front of her skirt without resistance and Drake was lost to it, touching her, tender and greedy, while their mouths hung open, not really kissing, just wet and close and warming the night air with every gasp. She was close and he was grinding into the back of her thighs where they folded up in his lap and it was too good.

So good that his satisfied groaning sounded a bit too much like pain. Drake hissed at the sudden shifting of Joanna’s body under him, which did smart more than he was expecting.

“Drake,” she was out of breath as she said his name, but even still he could hear the concern in it. “We have to get this looked at.” Joanna reached out to push her fingers under the thick blue jacket, feeling the subtle ridges of the bandage wrapped around his torso.

“Someone did,” he practically whined, head lulling to her shoulder as she felt around his tender side. His body jumped when her thumb brushed under the wound a little too roughly and Joanna hummed knowingly next to his ear. Drake was reluctant to rise, but encouraged by the fact that once standing again, Joanna’s hand was in his, while her other fixed his hair. “You don’t even know where the hospital is.”

“You’ll show me,” she said confidently, pulling him toward the palace doors before stopping in her tracks. Drake looked on, amused at her visible processing, and smiled when she turned to face him head on. “You’ll show me where the royal garage is too, right?”

Drake chuckled and redirected them, locking his good arm around her shoulders as he led her toward his car. “You know you can’t drive in Cordonia…” he pointed out, not anticipating Joanna’s knuckle to dig into his hip. Rendered almost immobile by the attack, Drake retaliated the only way that made sense. He hugged her neck tighter, using his right hand to push her face towards his to kiss her hard and hold her in place as she struggled against him, but laughing into his mouth and rubbing his stomach wasn’t the most effective strategy for escape.

Drake let himself fall headfirst, watching Joanna climb into his car, much nicer than the one he had in college. She drove slower than someone who insisted on an emergency room normally would and frequently looked over to Drake for reassurance that she was going the right way. It was familiar. Strangely so. Driving together. Laughing at each other. Hell, even sitting in an emergency room felt familiar, though with the mention of Drake’s name they were seen much quicker than any of their other visits. Joanna was just starting to grasp how different life was for Drake in Cordonia. He could see her getting overwhelmed across the room and it frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t touch her then. He was shirtless on a table getting stitched up and she was rubbing her hands down her thighs, pushing at the short skirt nervously, and while he was thankful to have her there, in front of him, in the room, in Cordonia, all he could think about was taking her away from it all. There was too much chaos in this life. Not that she couldn’t handle it. Drake knew few people stronger, but he didn’t think she should have to. It seemed like he and his friends were always in the midst of some battle, fighting or running or searching for someone that wanted them gone. Joanna could be his escape from that, if she wanted to be. She was there, he reminded himself, clearly she wanted something from him. What… he had no idea, but the familiarity of them was warm and it was overwhelming. If she’d have let him continue in the courtyard, he’d have proven it to both of them right there on the cold stone ground. Romance would come second to reconnecting and he wouldn’t have cared at all.

As if the gods were taunting him, listening to his thoughts and waiting for the moment to fuck with him, gasps and cries rang out through the whole floor before going silent again. The doctor stitching up Drake snapped the final suture and rushed out of the room. Joanna stood quickly and slipped under Drake’s good arm for the two of them to shuffle out together. Every television in the place was showing the same images. An explosion. In the palace. The country was watching, Drake and Joanna right there with them, frozen in shock and stiffly locked together as the blue banners started scrolling under the chaotic scene and panicked reporters.

Royal Family Devastated.

Death and Destruction in the Palace.

Terrorist action brings gala to a fatal close.

Joanna rolled up her lightweight rain jacket into a tight ball before snapping it back into place at the bottom of her pack. Her shoes were slightly damp, but she’d already changed her socks out for a fresh, dry pair and there was only five miles left to the next albergue. In a few hours, she would free her toes with the thick soled sandals that were tucked away for night, but she was actively resisting the temptation to break them out sooner. 

“Ready?” A familiar voice asked from above, blocking out the sun with his large frame. Joanna zipped her pack and nodded, hefting it back onto her shoulders and securing the buckle across her chest. She stepped into Stijn’s extended arm as he led them back onto the trail, waving to some of their fellow pilgrims who were still collecting themselves after an impromptu rain shower. 

The Camino de Santiago. Europe’s answer to the Appalachian trail, some travel blogger had dubbed it, though people had been walking the Camino for hundreds of years, long before the National Park Service. Joanna Malone had found herself in another job she was overqualified for and yet lacked the passion to continue, leading to the click bait scavenger hunt that ended in Spain. A pilgrimage. Thousands of people had traversed the Camino from France, Portugal, the East coast of Spain, all meeting their end in Santiago de Compostela, the final resting place of St. James. Joanna couldn’t put words to the draw she felt that night, but the sudden desire to pack a bag and go was overwhelming. A once in a lifetime feeling, she’d assumed, until she found herself walking with someone whose story damn near matched hers. 

Stijn had become her closest companion on the way. Two weeks and two hundred miles will do that, she supposed. He’d been sitting in his girlfriend’s living room, when he discovered the Camino. At his own sort of standstill, the desire to complete it was deafening, drowning out the argument that ensued when he asked his girlfriend to join him. She called him crazy and three days later he was in San Sebastián. By the time he’d caught up to Joanna on the Camino Primitivo, she considered him a seasoned veteran with almost the full length of her pilgrimage already completed. His long legs should have put him a day ahead of her, but apparently he’d felt the same kinship Joanna had and shortened his gait to stick by her on the trail. She’d already gotten to know so many people from different countries, walking for different reasons, but Stijn was by far the easiest to talk to and she was grateful to have someone that stayed near. They didn’t always speak. That was the whole point of walking, to be alone with one's thoughts in the wild, but many travelers were as eager to share their story as they were to hear from someone new. There was an understanding amongst the sparse pack that somehow, they were simultaneously all in it together while being on their own to find what they were looking for. Some days, Joanna and Stijn walked in complete silence, some days he couldn’t shut up and Joanna happily reciprocated. Though some assumed the two were walking “together,” they couldn’t be more incorrect. Even with the stunning views and soul baring conversations they shared, it was a remarkably platonic partnership that grew. The trip was incredibly romantic in the most personal ways, waking in a new town every morning, greeting the day with excitement, walking through some of the most challenging yet beautiful terrain that the Northern coast had to offer, but blisters and butt sweat did not make a hospitable environment for flirtation. So for the length of the trip, and longer Joanna hoped, Stijn was her person. As Dutch as they come, he towered over her by more than a foot. Coupled with his pale skin and bright blond head, Joanna had no fear of losing her new friend in a crowd. This came in handy more often than not while trying to locate the next refugio. Even with English as his second language and Spanish as his third or fourth, Stijn always managed to charm his way into something exciting that left Joanna feeling lucky to be dragged along. Once, she’d found herself at a tiny table in the kitchen of a 4 star restaurant, tasting entrees she hadn’t budgeted for at no cost while Stijn and the kitchen staff joked loudly over the sizzle of the seafood in hot pans. Another night, he’d batted his nearly invisible white eyelashes at the right nun and secured two thin mattresses at the top of an ancient bell tower. It was far less crowded than the hostel below them and the view was something out of a painting, not the kind of thing Joanna ever imagine falling asleep next to.

That was how the last 10 days had gone, friendship and fascination breaking up the hours of self reflection. It was somehow everything Joanna needed and nothing like what she could have imagined booking a flight to Oviedo from an ikea couch in Denver. As they approached the next town, Stijn had gone quiet, pulling out his journal to scribble notes down like a mad man. Maybe he was having a breakthrough moment and while slightly jealous of the insights he found, Joanna respected his space and marched ahead a few paces to start her search for the welcoming Vieira carved into the stone of their next resting place. The streets were busy in late afternoon and Joanna was glad to have reached their destination in time to wander a bit more. She paused at the heavy wooden doorway of a church, letting her fingers trace the raised outline of a scallop shell matching the small collection affixed to her backpack. It identified her as a pilgrim and this place as a haven of sorts, though really it meant cheap lodging for people who’d only need to stay a night before heading back out onto the trail. Everything along the Way felt connected and meaningful and Joanna loved it. She needed it. Following the bright yellow arrows painted on trees and wooden stakes, knowing where she was headed and how she’d get there even if the details were fuzzy. It was comforting. Freeing for her mind to be present in her body, in every moment, placing one foot in front of the other without- 

A boisterous crowd gathered around a fountain in the middle of the square and pulled Joanna’s eyes from the shell under her fingers. She took a few curious steps forward, watching as people bustled around, making way for an even smaller group. As the small, but noisy sea of bodies parted, revealing what Joanna believed to be a hallucination. It had been a warm day. She reached behind her for her water bottle and started drinking, as if it would cure her vision. No way. Not him. The man at the middle of the commotion locked eyes with her briefly and smiled a charming smile before tilting his head and continuing on as if it meant nothing. It must not have, she reasoned. It wasn’t him. 

“Joanna!” Stijn’s voice rung out from somewhere behind her and immediately the man in the square froze, leaning back on his heels to prepare for the slow spin back to face her. Shit. He made his way over to her without pausing to acknowledge anyone between them. Shitshitshitshitshit-

“Joanna…” he repeated slowly, his smile growing in recognition. “I thought that was you.”

Joanna sighed and shook her head, looking off in the direction of- something else, anything else. “Hi, Leo.”

Stijn joined not a moment later, introducing himself politely, matching Leo’s charm and energy in an instant. It made her wince, but also wonder if under different circumstances she and the former prince could have also been friends. Probably not, she decided just in time to hear Stijn ask if Leo was also on the way.

“On the way to dinner,” the prince laughed before snapping his fingers and pointing directly in Joanna’s face. “And you should join me.” He glanced up at Stijn, narrowing his eyes and smiling tightly, then gestured to him as well. “Both of you.”

Before she could stop the bad idea from snowballing, Stijn had agreed so heartily, like it was the best offered he’d ever encountered. Joanna could say no, she could say no, she had no obligation to either of these men, but she was tired and hungry and honestly a meal on Leo’s dime was bound to be better than whatever the church was set up to provide. She’d probably regret it in the morning, but she nodded along and insisted on freshening up first. Leo pointed to a little blue awning just to the left of the fountain where he’d spotted her and made his way in that direction without another word. As Joanna slipped into her sandals, wriggling her toes at the fresh air between them, she considered simply not going, but Stijn was excited to get to know her new friend and she was wearing a light dress that let her arms and legs breathe. What the hell, she reasoned. After flying across the ocean just to take a walk, dining with the former crown prince of Cordonia was the least insane decision she’d made recently. 

As expected, Stijn was riveted from the moment they sat down. His blue eyes never left Leo’s excited gesturing, at least until it was his turn to speak and Leo was the one leaning forward in his seat. Two obnoxiously blond peas in a weirdly exhibitionist pod, they swapped stories of their misadventures across Europe like old friends catching up after years, not two strangers who’d just met before drinks. Joanna tried to be annoyed, but she wasn’t. An unfortunate side effect of the Camino. She felt so light, like once she stowed away her backpack for the night and pulled her feet from her hiking boots, she was free. A freedom that should have dulled by now, but managed to sweep her off her feet every night. The two men at her table were the most entertaining thing she’d seen in weeks and without noticing when, she found herself swept up in them too. Suddenly, she was the one sharing stories, though none as exciting as the literal prince or dutch thrill seeker before her, but they honored her with their captivation and hearty laughs. They’d made it through two full courses before Leo finally asked how long they’d been together. Stijn responded casually, missing the way Leo’s eyes widened when he thought they’d been dating for ten days. Joanna was quick to correct his assumption and Leo shot her a smirk over the rim of his wine glass. When the question was returned, Leo mentioned that he knew Joanna through his brother and his friends, but didn’t elaborate beyond that. Stijn was satisfied and excused himself before dessert. The letter he’d started writing on the way into town was rather urgent and he wanted to get back to it before bed. Joanna tried to leave with him, but his mile long stride had him halfway to the fountain in the square before she could fold her napkin. 

“And then there were two…” Leo smirked as he traced his damp middle finger around the crystal rim of his wine glass. The low hum it produced filled the silence at the table without drawing the attention of anyone else dining outside that night. The prince looked downright devilish with half his features illuminated by candlelight, leaned way back in his chair yet leering across the table at Joanna. It was unsettling and whatever camaraderie she’d felt over dinner was lifted away on the breeze. “Very interesting to find you here, Joanna.”

“Is it?” She asked, refusing to acknowledge the obvious. “There isn’t a casino or yacht in sight,” she looked around the town square for dramatic effect before landing on Leo again. “From what I’ve heard, it’s much more surprising to find you here.” 

“Touché,” Leo lifted his glass in acknowledgment. He cut his sip short when the waiter arrived with a serving of every dessert on the menu. The man shuffled plate after plate before stepping away without interrupting the staring contest over the table. It looked like Leo was going to say something snarky, his blue eyes glittering mischievously before resignation took over his features and he dove into the nearest treat. 

Joanna joined him, but not without her suspicions. She avoided the chocolate covered desserts, but found plenty to be a combination of pastry, cream, and fresh fruit. One, a plain looking cake dusted in powdered sugar, bore a familiar looking cross and she recognized it instantly from previous stops. Torta de Santiago was becoming a weakness of hers and thought small, it was clearly meant to be shared. She ate the almond cake happily without offering Leo so much as a taste. They chatted freely, both clearly avoiding the elephant in the room, until the bill was settled and the plates were cleared. Before Joanna could excuse herself for bed, Leo asked her what the hell she was doing. It was a fair question. One she asked herself every afternoon around three thirty when her legs started to feel extra heavy and her stomach felt empty. She explained it the best she could, but Leo wasn’t convinced. Somewhere around the time he’d stopped telling her it was a silly exercise and started trying to convince her to just follow him if really needed an escape from her life, an anger she hadn’t felt since landing in Spain rose in her chest. 

How dare he? Who was Leo to judge her for trying to find herself? Suggesting a party across Europe as an appropriate alternative to her spiritual pilgrimage. As if drinking and dancing and throwing money out of sun roofs or whatever he got up to was better than what she was doing. She was tired and frustrated and feeling even more lost than when she started the Way, but hearing Leo attack her efforts to set herself back on course was too much. When he abandoned his country to do the same thing? Hell, he even abandoned his brother for some cruise and sent her- oh. Joanna paused her tirade and Leo stood awkwardly in the middle of the square watching her sway, eyes on the steeple, then the ground, then his emu leather brogues. 

“He’s okay, you know…” Leo stepped forward carefully, but froze when Joanna’s eyes snapped up at him. “Drake,” he clarified needlessly and she nodded looking away again. She hadn’t thought about him since he left for the airport. They traded a couple texts while he was still in New York, but as always, once he was back in Cordonia communication proved fruitless and the messages stopped. So Joanna stopped. Pining wasn’t her strong suit, nor was fighting for someone’s attention. Childhood wounds, she’d probably write in someone else’s file, but for her it was justified. So long as no one asked her to explain it. 

“We’re not far from Cordonia,” Leo brought up and Joanna frowned, face scrunched up in pure confusion. Her knowledge of geography suggested otherwise, but for a prince anything with a landing strip was within reach. “I mean, I hear he’s fully recovered from the shooting now, he might-“

“I’m sorry, the what?” Joanna laughed, clearly having misheard Leo in his optimistic rambling. But she hadn’t. Drake was shot, diving in front of a bullet meant for that Riley Brooks, just days after he’d been stretched out in her bed catching her up on everything she’d missed. Apparently leaving Drake Walker for any period of time meant missing out on a lot. As fond and colorful as their time together was, clearly being at school with her was the most boring time in his life. Safer, surely as no one was firing upon them and their friends in between classes. There was a cloud of conflicting emotions suddenly hanging heavy from her shoulders and Joanna stumbled back a few steps before turning completely to walk away from Leo. She heard him marching up behind her, accusing her of all sorts of accurate things. Ignoring him, easier said than done. Running from the past, that wasn’t the goal of the trip, but it seemed to be where she found herself. Not caring about Drake…. well that was too far. 

“Stop talking!” She demanded, wheeling around so fast that their foreheads nearly knocked together from where she stood on the stoop above him. “I am going to bed now. I have to be up early.” 

“For what?” Leo had the audacity to laugh. “To finish your little walk in the woods?” 

“Yes!” She snapped back, wishing she could put together something better. 

Leo tossed his hands up in the air, before lowering them to point at Joanna. “Go, pretend like you didn’t see me, so you don’t have to pretend like you aren’t running away!” 

He’d already started taking backwards steps away from her and the front steps of the church when Joanna launched herself off of them. “I can’t just quit, Leo! I started this for a reason!”

“What’s that?” He challenged and she just growled in frustration. If she knew that, maybe she wouldn’t be so desperate for clarity. “Ditch it. Find yourself on a beach or at the very least, somewhere you can take a proper bath.” He gestured to her unshaven legs and bandaid covered feet before looking up at her again, shrugging as if his offer was undeniable. 

“Gah!” Joanna wanted to scream, a perfectly nice evening so close to completing her mission, ruined by Leo and his presence. “Have you ever done anything hard? Finished something just because you said you would?” She was on the offensive, taking shots she knew were unfair, but she didn’t feel like expending the energy to reign them in. “Have you ever cared, Leo?! Have you ever cared about anything, but yourself?”

Joanna didn’t bother waiting for an answer. The poor little prince bit wasn’t all that interesting to her, even if Leo had his reasons for being... Leo. Sleep came easily that night, but when the sun rose, Joanna was slower to pack up and pack out. Her procrastinating gave her plenty of time to think through the prince’s accusations. What was meant as a walk to find answers might actually be running from the question entirely. It seemed everyone else on the Camino with her had good reasons for being there and as she stepped out into the sun, she couldn’t think of any of her reasons. Just Drake. Just her lover that she missed terribly and her friend that she missed even more. Just Drake and how she almost lost him without knowing it, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to grieve something that might have happened. The Camino did that sometimes, pushed up feelings that couldn’t be ignored and Joanna was trying her hardest not to just stuff them away, but feel them entirely, like she felt the ground beneath her feet every mile. She’d have to tell Stijn that she was going need a quiet day, maybe let him get going without her so she could wallow without an audience. 

Joanna waited patiently with a crowd of others, as someone from the church walked by to stamp her credential and send her off with a blessing. When she emerged into the square, spotting Stijn’s beacon blond head above everyone else’s, she was shocked to find another darker blond head just below it. Leo. Standing smugly, in clothes and boots and a pack that couldn’t possibly belong to him. 

“What the hell, Leo?” It seemed a straight forward enough question. 

“You want to finish your little hike and I want to go to Monte Carlo. We’ll do your thing first, then we’ll do mine.” Joanna’s face must have conveyed the shock and annoyance, but not enough to stop him from talking. “This village was a little low on luxury outdoor equipment, so I bought this off one of your fellow travelers.” He gave a little model spin before pointing out a well built middle aged man, stepping into a car with a look of delight on his face. She almost didn’t recognize him in clean clothes and without the tan bucket hat cinched up to hang from Leo’s neck. 

“Bence? He's supposed to processing the death of his wife.” 

Leo shrugged. “Well now he can process that in a hot tub.”

“How much did you give him for all his stuff?” Joanna squinted, eyeing him up and down. 

“Can’t tell you, you’d be sooo mad,” he chuckled and clapped her on the back, pivoting himself to throw an arm over Stijn’s shoulders as well. “Let’s go, we’re burning daylight!” 

So they walked. And they walked. And they walked. And Joanna had no idea what Leo was expecting when hijacked her pilgrimage, but apparently he was disappointed. He’d charmed his way into the heart of every travelled he’d come across, but by day two he found him trailing closely behind Joanna without anyone else to talk to. Stijn had indeed been experiencing a breakthrough and started to push forward, now that Joanna had a companion and he didn’t feel badly about leaving her behind just a little. They still had their deal to meet up at the Cathedral in Santiago, should they become separated and that was fine by Joanna. The last few days are usually the most solitary. Everyone is in their own rhythm, they’ve shared moments with all the familiar faces, they’re focused on the end and preparing themselves for what comes next. There is a strange mingling of pride and accomplishment that’s shrouded in sadness as the journey comes to a close. Not that Joanna would know with a 180 lb puppy committed to following her for the final four days of her trek. She’d set out to find herself and found Leo instead. An undesirable result. Once he started talking though, things changed. 

Leo had been walking next to Joanna for miles without saying a word, when suddenly she noticed him moving closer. 

“I’m sorry, you know,” he started carefully. “Pulling Drake away like I did… if I saw another way-“

“Were you looking for another way?” Joanna asked before he could finish. 

“No,” Leo admitted without an ounce of pride, but he wasn’t hiding either. Eyes shaded under the floppy brim of Bence’s bucket hat, but Joanna could see the honesty there, so she looked ahead and let him speak. “Liam didn’t need me to stay with him. I would have gotten in the way. My father was… struggling his own way. Regina was trying to hold them both together. I was collateral damage,” he said quietly. “A member of the royal family, but my reaction to the attack wasn’t going to throw a nation into turmoil.” Joanna frowned. She hadn't even considered the toll it would take on Leo. Knowing that if he hadn’t been...wherever he was, it’d be his face kicked in and not his little brother’s. Did he blame himself for the attack? Was it seen as a response to his abdication and Liam’s rising up? “My brother needed someone. I couldn’t think of anyone else.”

“He might have needed you,” Joanna offered carefully. 

“Might have…” Leo pondered, wiggling his fingers against the strap of his new backpack. “Drake was better… for me at least. It meant I did my part and I could leave again.” Joanna was impressed by his honesty. It took her days to get to the point where she could be so transparent with her own thoughts, even longer to open up to Stijn. The way Leo spoke, it was like he’d been waiting years for someone to just listen. Everything bubbling just below the surface. 

“Where did you go?” It felt like the right question and based on the watery laugh Leo replied with, Joanna knew it was. 

He’d been in Greece, blending in with the tourists and seeing the places he’d taken for granted from the safety of a motorcade. Slipping by Bastien had become something of a pastime, but there was so much of the world Leo felt like he’d missed the first time through. There he met a girl. Kate. A girl that had him hooked the first night. Everything Joanna had heard about the playboy prince was turned on its head. Leo spoke like a man in love. So she listened to the ridiculous story he shared of taking her wildly up against ancient ruins and then wooing her at every opportunity. She was entangled in a contract with more money on the line than Joanna would know what to do with. This poor Kate woman had an ex fiancé, a dead grandmother, a ship full of spatting family members in the middle of their own crises, and of course a Leo, competing for her attention alongside one of Forbes’ Thirty Under Thirty and the ship’s bartender. In a similar position, Joanna wouldn’t have a clue how to react, especially with marriage looming over her like the sharp edge of a guillotine. Ultimately, Kate chose Dean, whose time in the Navy and his subtle softness gave her something that Leo couldn’t. Joanna could tell that this bothered him, knowing that someone, a bartender was able to provide something he could not, but what took her by surprise was his confession. 

“I didn’t try hard enough… I just thought she’d pick me and I didn’t try hard enough to show her why she should.” Joanna wrapped a hand around Leo’s forearm while they walked and gave it a squeeze. “I thought about you and Drake.” Joanna pulled away at that. “That day in his apartment… you two looked so comfortable around each other, you just fit and I wanted that with Kate. I thought we had it, but…” Leo trailed off. 

“I’m sorry, Leo,” Joanna whispered and she meant it. 

“Yeah,” he laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You asked if I’d ever cared about something besides myself.”

“That was so unfair of me, I-“ Leo shook his head as Joanna tried to apologize. 

“I cared about Kate. More than myself and I let her get away. Now Dean gets to care about her.”

“You can still care about someone when you aren’t with them,” she told him and Leo took it as an invitation to turn the conversation back around. 

“Like you still care about Drake?” 

Joanna swallowed hard, sliding her thumbs under the straps of her own backpack nervously. Admitting it in her head was one thing. Admitting it to him when he was in her living room and had a flight to catch was another. Admitting what she knew to be true, to Leo of all people, while on the same continent and without a timeline for when she needed to leave… that just left too many possibilities that she wasn’t sure she would worry about. She nodded, gently, hoping Leo wouldn’t notice, but his eyes had been fixed on her waiting for the answer. He wasted his chance at love on arrogance, he knew that. If two days on the Camino could do that what would two weeks do to him. But he also knew that he was in a unique position to prevent someone else from doing the same thing. Drake and Joanna made him believe in love. Even his brother agreed the one time it had come up. Leo wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear that Liam had proposed to an American waitress, someone who made him feel alive away from court. He found his Joanna and Drake had been missing his whether he admitted it or not. Leo could bring them together again, he was sure of it. The wedding had been looming in the back of his mind for weeks. The well meaning invitation inspiring his little jaunt through Galicia before he headed to the coast to forget Kate and Dean, but he wondered if Joanna might accompany him… for emotional support. He’d planned on skipping it in favor of arriving back in Cordonia before the Costume Gala. If they were already so close, Joanna surely wouldn’t let herself be left behind, especially after something as sentimental as a wedding. Leo always thought the bartender had a particularly Walkerish appearance and it would hopefully work in his favor if Joanna agreed to attend. It was decided, as decided as things can be for someone like Leo. There was only one thing he needed to know before setting his plan into motion. 

“Do you still love him?” he asked, cautious, but firm.

Leo listened carefully as Joanna’s sigh sounded both resigned and amused. Perfect. 

“Yes.”

Long days seemed to be the only kind Drake Walker was allowed anymore. It didn’t seem fair that 24 hours would feel worse for him than anyone else allotted the same amount, yet it was what he’d come to expect. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone a week without feeling exhausted at the end of it. Years. Before Liam’s social season, definitely. Maybe even longer. The last few years had been... fine, but they weren’t the most fun times to be Drake Walker. 

He’d spent weeks looking for Savannah after she disappeared and then the next year feeling like somehow he was to blame. Finding her apartment in Paris after so long was the shock of a lifetime and he was thankful for Brooks presence that day. Without her hand on his arm, he’d have reached back and clocked Maxwell Beaumont right in the teeth without a moment of hesitation. 

Talking to his sister in the days after, reconnecting and getting answers to the questions that haunted him for innumerable nights inspired him to reach out and get some more answers for himself. It had been years, but he was in the states anyways and Drake knew that he would regret it if he didn’t at least try to talk to her. 

So there he was, sitting at an airport bar while the snow fell in thick white sheets outside and obscured his view of the Colorado mountains. He’d had a feeling before they announced the groundings that he wouldn’t be making it back to New York that night. Though that was more than fine with him. 

He hadn’t spent any time with his mother since he was just a kid. Two days was more than he was expecting and even in such a short time the emotional toll left him with the kind of hangover that whiskey could in fact cure. The cheap stuff burned his chapped lips and felt heavy on his tongue, but it was available and he wasn’t going anywhere. Drake sat up straighter, preparing to order another, and rolled his neck and shoulders. Turning to the left he felt a series of satisfying pops travel up his spine. Intending to experience the same relief after another twist, Drake turned his torso to the right and froze instantly. 

Maybe if he’d been traveling with Leo, allowing that idiot to manage his intake of substances both liquid and otherwise, maybe then he could convince himself he was hallucinating. But he was alone and not nearly drunk enough to have conjured this image. 

“Malone?” 

Drake’s intent was a whisper, something quiet and cloaked in disbelief, but the speed at which she turned to face him head on meant the latent excitement had won out and his question had escaped louder than he planned. 

“No shit,” that voice. “Drake Walker??” 

There was no denying it now. With a smile he wasn’t sure he deserved, it was Joanna Malone cutting through a frustrated crowd of travelers with surprising ease to get closer to him. The hem of her cardigan fluttered around her knees as she sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a toddler attempting to outrun the leashed backpack that kept him tethered to his mother. As she made her way into the bar, Drake felt uneasiness creeping up his spine, still frozen midcrack and growing uncomfortable. Everything about her was unfamiliar. Her boots, her coat, hell even her hair was different. Shorter and curled purposefully to look relaxed unlike the messy waves that got tangled around his fingers when he tried pulling them through. But her eyes, those were the same and they were the last thing he noticed before standing awkwardly from his stool to catch her. 

The hug was overwhelming. Unexpected but not unwelcome. A bulky coat obscured her body, but Drake would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the feel of her in his arms. In his weaker moments, years ago now, he’d imagined what it would be like to see her again and for the life of him, he couldn’t think of any of that now. Not when she was holding him like no time had passed at all. 

He vaguely registered her laughter in his ear just before he felt her pulling away from him. Of their own accord, his fingertips dig into the downy parka, before eventually relenting and letting her go. “What are you doing here?”

“Supposed to on a flight to New York, but they’re all-“ he gestured over her shoulder to the display of white letters on a blue screen, slowly turning to red and infuriating the anxious crowd that had gathered in front of them. 

“Grounded,” she finished for him with a good natured roll of her eyes. “Yeah, I just got in and a whole slew of people were pissed about missing connections.” Drake nodded, clearly one of those people, and the two stood uncomfortably close, holding each other’s elbows as if their embrace had just ended seconds ago. Finally, Joanna took a step back, pulling out the stool next to Drake’s  and smiling when he jumped forward to pull the duffle from her shoulder. He hooked the strap over the stool’s back and gave the seat a gentle shove toward the bar before sitting next to her, knees wide with one foot on her stool. It was casual and whether he realized it or not, kept her in place at his side. An unintentional, but very practiced posture for both of them. “What’s in New York?”

“A jet waiting to take me back to Cordonia,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Liam’s wedding shower...” Drake found himself explaining without being asked. He couldn’t remember the last time he talked so freely to anyone. Maybe Brooks...but not really. She’d been so persistent with him, tried so hard to be his friend until he couldn’t deny it. Joanna... just being in her presence and his lips were flapping like a steed. 

“He’s engaged!?” Joanna’s shock cut through Drake’s thoughts making him immediately forget how strange it was that things weren’t more strange. 

“To Madeleine,” Drake added, licking his lips and nodding to the bartender, ignoring Joanna’s exasperation to order each of them a drink. His hand stuttered, reaching across the bar to push one of the glasses in Joanna’s direction. He should have asked first. He wasn’t her boyfriend, he wasn’t her anything anymore and assuming she’d want to share a drink with him, let alone a drink he ordered for her, seemed like too much. 

Joanna didn’t appear to have any of those thoughts as she brought the glass to her lips without pulling her eyes from Drake and he scoffed into his own. If anyone could overthink a ginger ale, he could. 

“MADELEINE?” Her voice cut through the growing din of frustrated passengers groaning into cell phones and stomping to help desks. “As in Leo’s fiancée, Madeleine?”

Drake shrugged. It was old news. Not to Malone, but it was hard to view the events of the last two years as anything but old news. Events they’d survived, if only barely, what with all the secrets and dubious plots. “He abdicated so... she tried again.”

“Poor Liam...” Joanna sighed, leaning back in her seat. Sometimes Drake forgot how like a soap opera his friends lives seemed. Hell, his too. Missing sister reappearing with a son and her own secrets. Life didn’t seem so complicated before. Not with her. 

“Don’t waste your pity on him,” Drake smirked when Joanna glared curiously in his direction. “He’s gonna break that off tonight. Got his eye on the real thing now.” 

Joanna couldn’t fight the smile on her face, but Drake watched her try. “Damn, Liam. Guess it’s hard to be a prince, huh?” She offered with lifted brows and a crooked nod. 

“King,” Drake corrected without thinking. 

“What?!”

Drake spun in his seat to face her fully, his tender smile a stark contrast to her wide eyes and loose jaw. “It’s been a long time, Malone...”

“I guess so,” Joanna agreed wistfully. After a beat where their eyes and smiles met, unaware of the time that passed, Joanna brought up Drake’s presence a few time zones away from all the excitement. 

“So...” she started again and Drake spun back to look at his drink, tapping the bottom edge of the glass against the soggy napkin as he waited for her to ask. “Denver’s a strange place for you to be if all your friends are in New York. Where are you coming from?”

“Texas.”

“No way.” He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know the expression on her face, but he did anyways. For confirmation. Maybe comfort. The ease was worth it to see her crooked smile give way to a sweet disbelief, the kind of knowing grin that she’d offer to say I’m proud of you. He loved that and whatever he was supposed to feel -shyness, strangeness- it melted under her gaze and Drake was left wanting to keep it in place. For as long as possible. 

“Yeah, I uh... we were in the states and I needed to get away for a bit.“ He paused, but her smile only grew with the shaking of her head, still encouraging him to go on, even though he knew she’d already guessed the ending. “I went to visit my mom.”

“No shit...” Joanna smiled, falling back into her seat and prompting Drake to take note of how close they’d been sitting just a second before. “Well, I’m impressed, Walker. How is she?” Of course she’d ask. “How are...you?” Of course. 

“I’m fine,” Drake answered honestly, surprising both of them. “She’s...she’s really good. I dunno why I put off seeing her as long as I did.”

He’d barely finished his sentence before Joanna was laughing. “Because you’re stubborn,” she offered so gently it hardly felt like a jab and he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “And you were scared.” His nod was the only agreement he offered, but it was all he needed to. 

“How’s Nance?” Drake tried, unsure how many topics were now off limits to them, but content with testing them all. For old times sake of course. 

Joanna laughed again, this time a little louder. God he missed be able to do that. Making her laugh used to be the easiest thing in the world. “She’s good,” Joanna nodded. 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, but the smile didn’t leave as her fingers folded the corners of her wilting cerulean napkin. “I mean...six weeks sober is big, but you know what they say, if you don’t like them drunk...”

“You won’t like them sober,” Drake mumbled, lifting his glass in some awkward kind of toast before dropping it again to run a hand through his hair. “I’ve heard that... How are you?”

“You know me...” I used to. “I take whatever comes. This is just another one of those things,” Joanna brought her fist under her nose, seemingly lost in thought while Drake folded in the corners of his bar napkin. “So what are you doing here anyways?”

“I told you, New York-“

But Joanna interrupted, “I meant the bar.”

Drake paused, brow furrowed as he stared back at her. What had easily become routine for Drake Walker, part of who he was, the thing his friends back in Cordonia teased him for relentlessly suddenly seemed so out of place in the current conversation. There’s more to me than whiskey, he’d groaned and whined, suffering at the hands of his own predictability. It was all too common to find him at the bar, nursing a scotch older than he was when Joanna first kissed him. He didn’t mind the jokes, not really, he knew he’d invited the jabs with every avoidant roll of his eye. 

Joanna hadn’t known him in that way. Drake wasn’t in a constant state of retreat back then and his palette had been spoiled beyond the red plastic cups and well whiskeys he would imbibe on their nights out. This must be a sight, he grinned into his glass. He hadn’t given much thought to who he once was, not with all of the shit Liam had been through lately. There was a time when thinking too long about the past made Drake’s head spin and stomach turn more than any quantity or quality of whiskey ever could. Suddenly, with knees touching and pinkies nearly there as they inched across the bar with every kind stare, reminiscing didn’t seem like such a bad thing. 

“What’s her name?” 

Drake snorted into his glass. “Joanna,” he answered, eyebrow quirked up in jest, though deep down...

“Shut up,” Joanna laughed, gripping his arm tenderly. “Come on, Drake.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t want to talk about it at all....or you don’t want to talk about it with me?” Joanna asked, releasing him instantly. 

Drake sighed, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he considered his next move. “I don’t want to talk about it...without a better drink in my hand. Know anywhere we can get some Bushmills?” He asked with a hopeful smirk, curious to see if she’d partake in an ages old tradition, curiouser still to see how strong the pull of nostalgia would be. If there was nothing left between them, there’d be nothing stopping her from leaving him in the airport bar she found him. If she was content to leave him as the 21 year old kid, kissing her in front of the security gates of an airport not unlike this one, then there he’d stay. He smiled, hoping it was an encouraging one and waited patiently, watching Joanna chew her bottom lip and shake her head slowly, amusement spreading her lips wider and inspiring a hope in him that he hadn’t expected.

“I know just the place,” Joanna smiled and without a moment of hesitation, led him out of the sad airport bar, through the sliding doors and out to parking lot, where the snow dusted silhouette of an SUV promised to take them both away from the noise and toward something both excitingly new and comfortably old.

...

“This feels...familiar…” Drake noted as he toed off the snow covered boots. His fists were promptly shoved into jeans pockets as he took in Joanna’s apartment. It was small, but accommodating and somehow maintained that Malone warmth even though she’d been away. The layout was fine, closed off and winding, each room hidden from the next like a personal cloister, all meeting in the middle where Joanna disappeared to the kitchen. The cardboard boxes were what caught his eye first. A stack of them had already been emptied and were flattened out, leaning against the wall of the entry where he stood, but as Drake wandered, poking his head through every open door and archway, there were more. Labelled appropriately for the rooms in which they sat, Drake noted that more than one were still taped shut. It was hard not to think back to their last days together. The final box of Joanna’s things, sitting out in the living room and waiting for her to finally give in and make herself at home in Drake’s apartment. He hadn’t thought to ask if she ever unpacked it once he was gone and there was ample space in the closet to fit whatever she kept hidden. This place was her own and still it seemed she hadn’t settled in. Drake wondered what the hold up was this time or if she’d caught on to what he was saying.

“Eerily so,” Joanna tossed a chuckle over her shoulder from the kitchen. Of course she had.  She reappeared after pouring a generous glass of whiskey for each of them and meeting him in the sparsely decorated living room.

‘We haven’t had a drink together since-”

“Christmas with my mom,” she finished, smiling and he narrowed his eyes, wondering if it was genuine. 

“Hard to believe you’re drinking now,” he added, watching Joanna lean in for a silent toast before taking a swig without the slightest hesitation. The small bar like set up behind her was well stocked. Just one corner of the kitchen counter that held a familiar squared off bottle and a black tray of short glasses, etchings of birds around the bottom. He could feel the wings of one under his ring finger as he took a drink for himself. 

“After college,” Joanna started, gesturing over to the couch and following Drake as he took a seat. “I just decided to stop letting other people’s choices affect my own…” Drake hummed, feeling at least part of that statement was directed at him. “But especially my mother’s. Plus,” she waved her hand between them. “You’re from Europe. You know I stuck out like a sore thumb over there the first time I turned down a beer.” 

Drake chuckled in understanding and licked his lip, turning to face Joanna with his knee bent and resting between them. “Malone… Are you admitting that people do change?”

Joanna chose that moment to take another drink, avoiding Drake’s question for the moment and he took it as a win. 

“So you and this Riley, huh?” She asked casually, using what information Drake had filled her in on during their car ride. He tried to gloss over the dramatic details, but persistent as ever, his Malone couldn’t leave a question unasked. Drake surprised both of them with his rendition of Liam’s social season, the bombshell that shook a nation and a few of his friendships, the engagement tour that seemed to drag on and on despite the excitement of chasing down photographers and staking out hotel rooms. He processed those events more thoroughly in the passenger seat of Joanna’s Jeep than he had...ever. He told himself it was just because the world was finally settling down for him and he could hear himself think without Maxwell or Liam or Riley seeking him out in the middle of some crisis or needing to forget their current situation. It had nothing to do with the girl asking the questions… asking how he was handling life in nearly constant chaos… asking what it was like to lose Savannah and find her again. She asked about Bartie and his mom and before he knew it, Drake was kicking the snow off his boots before following Joanna up a flight of stairs and he didn’t feel invaded or pressured… just seen. 

“There was no me and Brooks.”

“But you wanted there to be…” It wasn’t a question and Drake didn’t respond. Not fast enough apparently, because Joanna took his silence as her own win and pressed further. “Did something happen between you two?”

Drake’s mind wandered back to that night in Paris. His lips and hers mingled for the first and last time. The look in her eyes when they parted, the heat of the moment dissolved instantaneously. He whispered her name, but she only thought of Liam. He couldn’t blame her. She’d travelled across oceans and continents for his best friend. She loved him. Drake was...Drake was a friend. That’s all he could be for her and relief he felt at that realization was more telling than the rejection itself. It seemed anyone of his friends were quick to point out that he kept parts of himself closed off, but he accepted that in Paris and accepted that there may have been good reason to.

“No,” he finally answered, but it was no use. Joanna’s lips turned up in a smile. She knew. She always knew. 

“But you had feelings for her?” asked Joanna.

“I thought so,” Drake shrugged. 

“What do you mean you thought so?” She pried, looking all too entertained by the direction of the conversation. 

Drake chose not to answer and to his surprise, Joanna let him. Riley would have followed, asked again in her gentle Brooks way until he was spilling too much and spending more time backtracking than actually talking. He could never find it in him to dislike that about her, but if he was honest… he hadn’t really noticed until now. Until standing in a room with someone who knew things about him that the gang of miscreants waiting for him in New York could never, and she let him stay silent. He stood from the couch with a quiet grunt and wandered around the small living room, nudging the two moving boxes that had been pushed together as a makeshift coffee table with his big toe. He hummed in time with the dull thud of a wool socked foot against the side of a mostly hollow box, holding blankets or pillows or something not so heavy. Drake could tell Joanna was following him with her eyes, but he didn’t turn to confirm it until he noticed a picture of him on one of her shelves. 

“I can’t believe you still have this…” he mused, pulling a small pearlescent blue frame from the shelf. 

“You can't?” Joanna joined him in front of the shelf, leaning gently against his arm even though she could see just fine from her angle. Sarah or maybe Matt had taken it, at a spring festival to celebrate the end of the quarter and for most students, their exams. Joanna was flat on her stomach, arms folded under her head and lounging atop the yellow saddle blanket that kept the grass from tickling her skin. Drake mimicked her pose, lying stretched out flat across her back, face turned toward the camera in a cheeky grin with his eyes screwed shut to keep the sun out of his eyes and his legs extended way past Joanna’s feet and the edge of the blanket. Her mouth was open and her head was turned toward the camera and it looked like she was saying something to him. He couldn’t remember what it was. She could have been laughing. She could have been telling him he was too heavy. She could have easily been teasing him, asking if that was his phone in his pocket or if he was just excited to see her. 

He barely recognized himself in the photo with his nose scrunched up and his grin so wide, his face looking youthful despite the weeks worth of stubble gathered around his lips and up his jaw line. He looked happier, freer. He knew he was in love then and no one was threatening or stalking his friends, but it was jarring to see his face reflected back on such a different person. Drake tried to put the photo back, the physical reminder of how much can change in four years suddenly too much to swallow, but Joanna intercepted the frame. She held it gently, looking on this seemingly normal moment as a treasured memory.

“I just....” Drake cleared his throat and caught Joanna looking up at him. “Sarah said you left without any attachments, so…”

Joanna sighed and Drake braced himself as she blindly replaced the photo on the shelf and turned away. “Do you really want to talk about that now?”

“Yeah…” Drake looked at the photo one more time before spinning to lean against the wall, arms crossed and shrugging his shoulders when she looked back at him. “I think I do.”

“I mean, I didn’t have any bungee cords tying me to the ground,” she scratched the side of her head before smoothing her hair back behind her ears and cupping her cheeks as she stared sort blankly at the wall around his knees. In a different circumstance, Drake might have laughed at the way her lips pursed with the heels of her palms pushing them out. Maybe four years ago. “But no, I didn’t leave with any expectations either.” 

“I told you I’d be back…” Drake said quickly, watching her eyes snap up to meet his. “You could have expected that.”

“I did,” said Joanna quietly, hands falling from her face to the space between her knees. “But it was the opportunity of a lifetime, Drake.” The way she said it, heavy with something related to regret though not quite, took away from the statement. Opportunities shouldn’t carry so much weight, should they? They should be exciting. “We hadn’t had a real conversation in weeks and I hadn’t heard from you at all almost as long. I had to make a decision fast and as much as I wanted you to help me make it… you weren’t there.”

Drake already knew it was unfair situation. If he had been there, he would have told her to go. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. Years later, being upset that she had done just that, seemed fruitless. “You wanted me to help you make it?” 

“You were my best friend, Drake. I couldn’t make it without you.” He turned away from her, focusing back on the photo for a moment. She was his too. “But ultimately I had to... and I had a professor telling me that I was too young to let a boy change my life-”

Drake scoffed, interrupting her briefly.

“She just had no idea how much you already had…” 

When their eyes met again, Drake saw the sincerity in Joanna’s. Dark green sparkling with vulnerability and he was certain he couldn’t hide from her in that moment. Not when she was bared for him. He couldn’t help it and he’d intended to tell her as much when she spoke again. “So you saw Sarah?”

Drake nodded, swallowing some half formed sentiment. “And Matt. And Mila…” he let it linger, hoping she’d just accept the fact that he came back for her. It took him longer than it should have, but he came back. “Did you-”

“I was there for all of it, Drake,” she assured him and let him know the few occasions she’d been back to see them, as recently as the past week, the reason she was in the airport to begin with. That could have been us, he thought to himself, choosing to keep the thought in his head rather than sharing it aloud. He could practically hear Joanna’s response. Drake... the baby didn’t fix all their problems. She was the beginning of a hundred new ones. He didn’t long for that hypothetical family as strongly as he had once before. If he could tell his younger self not to worry about it, he would, knowing he likely wouldn’t even listen to himself at that point. He’d been so sure it was what he wanted, so sure that needed Joanna to want the same things, sure that he need the promise of love and stability that wouldn’t disappear without warning. If they’d been a family… they’d still be one. But that’s not why people start families. He knew that now. 

“They seemed really happy.”

“They are,” Joanna smiled. 

Drake nodded, relaxing a bit and pushing off the wall to join her back on the couch. Another photo caught his eye before he could. In a collage, surrounded by smiling faces of all colors and ages, he spotted Joanna, perched up on a stone fountain with her head tilted against the shoulder of a man with tan skin and hair darker and shorter than his own. “Who’s that?”

“Martin,” Joanna responded, barely needing to look up to know who caught Drake’s attention. 

“Marteeeen,” Drake mocked the name. Someone she met abroad no doubt and for someone also born in a country where names never quite sounded like they should to Americans, it didn’t stop him from mocking the slight accent Joanna used to answer him. Jealousy never looked good on him. “Looks like a douche.” 

To his surprise, Joanna laughed. The tension in his shoulders dropped at the sound. “Would you like me to let him know?” she asked. 

Drake shook his head, looking back between her and the photo. She looked happy there too. “Is...Malone...is he your-“

“No,” Joanna clarified mercifully, before he could stumble over words he wasn’t keen on saying. Drake released a breath he hadn’t intended to hold onto. “Not... we were good friends, travelled together some, but a few months ago, things changed. He was always kind, but I could tell things were changing for him. Then he told me he was in love with me and asked if we could be more-” 

“And you said...” Drake dragged out his words. “...no?”

“Not exactly,” Joanna rolled her eyes, standing to refill her glasses and nodding to Drake’s as well. He passed it willingly, after finishing off the contents, and waiting patiently with his arm thrown across the sidearm of the sofa. Joanna sighed after her first sip and leaned back against the small bar in the kitchen, eyeing the man that was watching her. “I told him I was moving back to America and I wasn’t sure when I’d be back.”

Drake‘s laughter echoed through the small space, but not because the statement was funny. “Is that your big move now? Leaving the country?”

“I guess so,” Joanna stifled her own laugh as she fell back into the cushions, shifting to press into Drake’s side. He leaned back playfully and Joanna’s body swayed away from him under the force, but she returned, leaning against his shoulder as she presented her glass for him to meet with his own. After a soft tink of glass on glass, they drank and Drake circled the rim of his glass with one finger, thinking of how to phrase his next question before deciding on the simplest. 

“Why not Martin?” He managed to ask without any sarcasm.

The silence fell like a weighted blanket over the room. As comforting as it was suffocating. It had been so long since Drake and Joanna shared words, let alone space. He couldn’t want this, the closeness, the sharing of their lives. But part of him hoped that Martin wasn’t right for her and that same part of him hoped it was because she still knew who was right for her. 

Eventually Joanna sighed. “He was safe. Martin...he was the guy that wanted to settle down. He was never going to be the guy that up and left the country...” she admitted weakly. Drake opened his mouth to defend himself, remind her that he had every intention of returning, but Joanna spoke up first. “So I did,” she laughed at herself, hearing how ridiculous she sounded. “I didn’t want that,” Joanna admitted more to herself than her captive audience. “Part of me thought if I had someone who’d never leave me...I’d finally be happy. But that isn’t true. I knew that, but when he finally told me how he felt… I couldn’t pretend to feel the same. At all.”

“Kind of harsh ending though...” Drake pointed out, but she already knew that. 

“Drake, you know me… I wasn’t trying to hurt him, I just-” she started pleading and he reached out to stop her.

Drake’s frown softened. “Yeah, Malone. I know you.”

They sat in the silence, letting their conversation so far settle in the room. When the glasses were empty, Joanna stood to take them into the kitchen and Drake immediately missed the warmth of her leaning into his side, her leg pressed up against his, her left hand in his right where they’d ended up without either of them trying. He stood to follow, unsure what was going to come next. Should he start to make his way toward the door, ask her for a ride to the airport hotel, or just suck it up and download the Uber app to take care of it? Should he be casual, mention it’s getting late and look deep into her eyes, hoping she’d ask him to stay? Or he could ask the question that had been eating away at his insides for years, dulling into a subtle ache before clenching beneath his ribs again at the sight of her.

“Do you hate me?” Not that question, but he asked anyways, genuine curiosity and concern making his voice sound weak. It occurred to him that if anyone else were standing before him, he’d hate that. Yet...

“I could never hate you, Drake Walker,” she responded. Maybe he knew that. At the very least he hoped that was the case. Maybe that’s why the tone didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Joanna opened her mouth to ask him the same, but before she could, Drake shook his head no. She looked older, she was, but for a moment Drake saw a flash of her nineteen year old self standing before him, anxiety dissolving into relief with his acceptance of her. He missed that. Missed quelling her fears. Missed her. 

“Do you...” he hesitated. He knew he shouldn’t ask, but- “Do you still love me?”

Joanna exhaled quickly. A choked back laugh that caught in her throat and ceased when she bit her bottom lip, nodding. “Very much.” 

It was Drake’s turn to express his relief. Her words were surprisingly powerful, even after years. The insanity of the social season and Liam’s engagement tour seemed so small compared to the conversation he was having. Whatever bravery they claimed he showed while chasing the ghosts that threatened Riley was nothing compared to what it took for Drake to request one last thing. “Tell me?”

Joanna pulled Drake into her, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders. His arms quickly circled her waist. Drake’s face fell into her shoulder and Joanna buried her face in his thick hair, both inhaling deeply. Time meant nothing as they held onto each other. Unspoken apologies and the declarations of love that were years too late passed between them in the silence. The embrace was both soothingly familiar to the kids who’d once been hopelessly in love and completely foreign to the adults they were growing into without each other. 

The next morning, Drake pressed his forehead against Joanna’s as her back hit her front door. They stood in the hallway, staring at each other for longer than they should have. Though both were breathing easier, experiencing the peace of mind they’d denied each other years ago, neither was ready to relinquish the proximity. There was still something undeniably them, lingering just outside Joanna’s apartment and threatening to draw them back inside with a whole list of new mistakes to make with one another. Neither took the bait, preferring the safety of this not quite platonic care that contained no promises and more importantly, no regrets. 

“Sure I can’t convince you to come with me?” Drake smiled, knowing the answer before she could give it.

Joanna reached up to cup his cheek in her hand, brushing her thumb over the birthmark below his eye. Such a small blemish, if you could even call it that. Even after all this time, Joanna thought it made him look even more handsome. She’d kissed it more times than she could count, but that was practically a lifetime ago. She smiled fondly when Drake leaned into her palm, both of them enjoying the safety of a familiar intimacy that they’d been missing. 

“Any girl would be lucky to follow you...” she sighed and Drake closed his eyes, bracing himself against her, sensing what was to come. 

“You’re just not going to be one of them,” he finished for her. 

“Not today.”

He nodded and tilted his chin so he could kiss her forehead. “I love you, Malone.”

“I know,” she smiled, despite the tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. “I love you too, Walker.”

Drake heard her ragged breath behind him, a single sniffle let him know that she was watching him as he headed back to his old life...again. Despite the tears threatening to spill out onto his own face, Drake felt lighter. Inexplicably so. 

What a week, he thought to himself, climbing into a car for his return to the airport. Finding his sister, he released a breath he’d been holding for the better part of a year. Kissing his best friend’s girl, he realized that he could only afford to love her as a friend. Running away to America to confront his mom, Drake faced his feelings of inadequacy head on and allowed the truth of his mother’s situation to comfort him. Seeing Joanna again...Drake chuckled to himself in the backseat, head pressed against the cool glass of the window. Of course he did. The perfectly chaotic end to a truly insane week. Seeing Joanna again was meant to be, even if they were not. As she had when he was younger, Joanna brought peace into Drake’s life. 

He thought back to the night before, bundled up in her bed, wrapped up in each other, fully clothed and not intending to cross anymore lines. It was such an unsettled time as they switched positions often, trying to recapture all the comfort they’d offered each other in the past. Joanna’s head on Drake’s chest, curled around his body while she talked about her new job. He always knew she’d be phenomenal at whatever she did. Drake flattened himself across the length of her, legs tangled, arms propping himself up so as not to crush her until Joanna pulled his arms around her waist and held him close. She played with his hair while he talked to her about how crazy his life had been upon returning to Cordonia. She smiled in recognition, seeing so clearly the Drake she’d known, still fiercely protective of those he loved. Face to face they laid, as Drake processed out loud the meeting with his mother. His head still sorted itself out like it had when he had Joanna to bear this stuff with him. It seemed his whole being missed her whole being. His mind missed her mind, his body missed her body, his heart missed her heart. 

I just...

Out with it, Drake 

You aren’t with anyone right now...

I know...

So-

-but that doesn’t mean I should be with you. I’m not...I’m not what you need anymore. 

She was wrong of course. She was exactly what he needed. Just not in the way he used to have her. Joanna was still every bit the breath of fresh air, the stranger that felt like home, the place he could come back to when he needed, but she couldn’t give him any more of herself than she already had and he couldn’t blame her for that. He knew that she’d always be his Malone, even if she wouldn’t really be his again. 

You think you’ll ever settle down again?

People don’t change, Drake Walker... But you’ve proven me wrong before. 

Thanks, Malone. 

For what it’s worth... I hope you do it again. 

Drake settled into his seat, about to switch his phone to airplane mode when a long and excited message from Liam came through. 

“Way to go, Brooks...” he chuckled to himself, before congratulating his friend on the engagement and letting him know he’d be back in New York before the royal jet left. The bitterness Drake had carried to the states with him was gone. His best friend was about to begin a new chapter with the love of his life. His sister and his nephew would be returning to Cordonia soon. He was talking to his mother again, sparsely but more than he had in years. He finally found the closure that he’d both been denied and denied himself for years. 

“Thank you,” he typed, thumb hovering over the space bar nervously. “For everything.”

He leaned his head back against the cramped airplane seat and took a deep breath waiting for the response that he knew might not come. 

But it did. In a matter of seconds, Drake’s phone lit up. A new message from Malone. 22. Cute. 

Thank you, Drake. For everything.

He smiled, switching off the device before stuffing it into his jacket pocket with finality. Ready to go home. Ready to see Liam and Brooks, congratulate them in person. Ready for whatever was coming next and knowing his friends, it wouldn’t be boring. There wasn’t much else Drake Walker could ask for in that moment. 

First loves end, but lives aren’t over at 25. They’re only just beginning. 

Before that, we’re all

just kids.

@mind-reader1​ @sleepwalkingelite​ @zaffrenotes​ @likethetailofacomet​ @gardeningourmet​ @brightpinkpeppercorn​ @notoriouscs​ @ritachacha​ @blackwidow2721​ @speedyoperarascalparty​ @endlessly-searching-for-you​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @the-everlasting-dream​ @debramcg1106​ @wannabemc2​ @moneyfordiamonds​ @nikkis1983​ @gibbles82​ @choicesmacmakes​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @thequeenofcronuts​ @saivilo​ @axwalker​ @princessleac1​ 

“Get up.”

Drake woke gradually to the sound of his wife’s voice in his ear. Her warm breath was slow and even against his neck, lulling him back to sleep at the same time her voice was trying to convince him not to. She was working against herself.

“Drake.”

He grumbled an incoherent reply, which prompted Joanna to kiss his neck sweetly, eventually leaning up to look at his face, now contorted into a scowl from the peaceful smile he didn’t know he wore just moments prior.

“Come on,” she encouraged and he fought against her, trying to keep her from rolling off him. “Drake,” she pleaded, trying not to laugh. He opened one eye to glare at her when he noticed the room was still pitch black. They had no reason to get up and he wouldn’t be convinced they did.

“Huh, why?” he groaned, rubbing his eyes with his hands when Joanna finally leaned up, pulling away from his chest to straddle his waist.

“We fell asleep,” she answered, as if it made sense.

“Yeah…and until a few seconds ago that was really nice,” he complained. Again her quiet laughter drifted down to his ears, softening his features from the half hearted scowl back into sleepy tenderness. “Why are we getting up?”

“I’m cold.”

“Well get back down here,” he sighed, letting his arms fall open on either side of him, inviting her into the warmth and safety of his embrace again. Without her warm body lying across his chest, he felt the cold in the air himself. Despite his protests, he felt her remove herself from the bed completely and he shivered in the dark, missing her touch instantly. “Where are you going?”

“Shower,” his wife’s voice sounded farther than it should have.

“Am I invited?” Drake grinned, eyes finally opening as he propped himself up on his elbows. He watched the outline of her naked body move away from him until the click of the bathroom light illuminated her skin, allowing him the chance to appreciate her from afar. With the light bathing the room, he looked around as memories of the night before flooded him all at once. His relentless teasing, her willingness to play along, their passionate love making that ended in the pair exhausted and falling asleep on top of the covers, still slick, but skin since dried making the chill in the air even more biting. He regretted not taking the time to wrap them up under the sheets and blankets to trap their body heat beneath it. From his place on top of the fancy palace comforter, the chill travelled down Drake’s spine and a warm shower was an irresistible prospect. He stood and wandered into the bathroom without waiting for her response.

“Oh, so now you’re up?” Joanna teased, watching Drake’s reflection in the mirror as he held his hand under the water, waiting for it to warm to an acceptable temperature.

“The rare opportunity to shower with my wife? You bet,” he winked, pulling her into the white tiled booth with him. Joanna wrapped her arms around his torso and stayed glued to his midsection as the water warmed their joined bodies. “Do you need to wash your hair?” he asked, gently nudging her elbow. She shook her head without removing her face from his chest. He smiled down at the sleepy woman attached to him and preceded to move with care around her, washing his own hair and making sure to keep her under the water as best he could without sacrificing too much of his own warmth. “Are you going to let me clean you up?” She shook her head again, tightening her grip around his waist. “Come on, sleepyhead. I should have last night.” No answer. He sighed. “Please…let me take care of you.” Joanna looked up and smiled at her husband. She knew he felt guilty whenever he fell asleep without grabbing her a washcloth or glass of water or doing whatever he came up with to make his wife more comfortable and himself feel useful. She nodded wordlessly, allowing him to love her in this sweet, practical way. Typical of her sweet, practical husband. Drake pulled a cloth into the shower and doused it with water and her favorite eucalyptus soap. After a kiss to her forehead, hair slicked against it from the spray, Drake held her out at arms length to run the sudsy cloth up and down her legs, brushing carefully over her core, and ending by running it over her stomach. He swiftly squatted to place a light kiss just below her belly button before standing. “Better?” Joanna nodded and turned off the water as Drake pulled in a towel for each of them.

The Walkers stood at the bathroom mirror together, Drake brushing his teeth with his towel hanging low on his hips, while Joanna wrung her hair out into the sink trying to squeeze out as much moisture as she could before pulling it into a braid for the night. Joanna finished up in the bathroom while Drake wandered over to their bag, pulling out a pair of sweatpants for each of them and a couple t-shirts. Once dressed, he met his wife at the door to the bathroom with her clothes and kiss on the lips. An easily domestic moment, simple and lovely and such a contrast from the night before. The music and mingling had long since dissolved, guests disappearing to their own rooms to sleep off the excitement, while the Walkers disappeared to their own raucous celebration.

“What time is it?” Joanna asked, settling back into bed, this time under the sheets and heavy blanket and comforter, wrapping herself in a warm cocoon.

“About 3:30,” Drake responded, tucking his arm under his pillow as he rolled to his side, watching his wife get comfortable. “Hell of a New Year celebration huh?” he smiled when she turned to face him.

“Best I’ve ever had,” she winked, scooting closer to him and worming her legs between his until his feet were warming hers.

“Joanna…” he whispered, nervously.

“Yes, sir?” she teased.

Drake reached out for her, running his fingers tenderly up her forearm, resting on her bicep just under her sleeve, “Was that too much?”

“How do you mean?” she asked, watching his eyes fall from hers to some spot on the sheet in the empty space between them.

“You know…” he groaned, “Would you tell me if I was too rough with you?”

Joanna giggled, scooting closer to him and laying a soft hand on his cheek. She smiled widely as her thumb traced the line of his eyebrow, forcing the worry to soften from his gaze. “Are you seriously asking me if you gave it to me too good last night?”

“Walker…” he complained, refusing to give in and smile. Drake was trying to be serious. Joanna caught on to his frustration and leaned in to kiss him, quieting whatever unreasonable thoughts were writhing around in his mind. His lips responded hesitantly and she refused to let him breathe until he could accept all of her affection. When a soft moan escaped his throat involuntarily, she pulled away to look him in the eye.  

“I love you,” she assured him, a little breathless from her own plan.

“I know, but tell me. Was that too…?” he drifted off again.

“No.” Joanna’s voice was loving, but resolute. She’d heard his voice like this before. Many times while she was still the King’s suitor. This time was different. This time, she wouldn’t let her husband succumb to the guilty thoughts in his own head. “You were amazing,” she smiled again, brushing the still damp hair from his forehead.

“Yeah?” Drake grinned, miraculously cured of his shyness and teasing her with his eyes like he had throughout the party. “Promise?”

“Do I promise it was amazing? Yes, obviously.” Joanna forced herself to chuckle, rolling her eyes and falling back into the pillow.

“Had it not been for the cheering, I think everyone in the Palace would know how amazing you are.” She winked, hoping the playful gesture would ease his mind or make him smile.

“Promise that I wasn’t too rough or…whatever…” He was back to sounding unsure and she was teetering the edge of frustration.

“Drake…” she sighed, rolling back to face her husband. With one hand sliding up his chest, Joanna wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and held his gaze. Desperate for him to understand her, not realizing he was too.

“I meant what I said at the party, Malone. I’ve never felt like this before-“ he started, moving his own hand up over her shoulder to mimic her actions, holding the back of her head in his large hand and letting his fingers hide in her damp braid.

“Well I should hope not, I’m your only wife,” she reminded him, grinning. “That I know of,” she added with a wink.

He rolled his eyes, still trying not to smile. He needed her to hear him so he continued. “I mean it. You’re so gorgeous and you’re so incredible and dammit you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever…” he stopped himself with a groan. Joanna giggled silently, her cheeks turning pink at her husband’s nervous words. He was incredibly endearing. He sighed once he’d composed himself and continued. “I want to do everything with you, experience everything with you, make you feel better than you’ve ever felt…”

“Drake, you do-“ she started, until his sweet ramblings cut her off again.

“But at the same time, you’re just…God, you’re so precious to me, Walker. I never want to hurt you or alarm you. If I ever made you feel uncomfortable or used, I’d never forgive myself and I need you to know that.”

“Drake, you could never-” she tried to reassure him again, but was again interrupted by his sweet yet awkward uncertainty.

“Annie, I-“

“No, now you listen to me.” She was firm, needing him to see what she saw. “Last night, something happened-”

“What? Tell me.” Drake urged her, suddenly even more terrified that he’d taken things too far and guilty he hadn’t noticed sooner.

“It was the nicest thing,” she said, watching his face soften immediately, before twisting up in confusion again. “After a night of you whispering some of the hottest and dirtiest talk I’ve ever heard in my ear and showing me how much you love being in charge, controlling me and us and-“

“I’m sorry about that…” he interjected quickly.

“Stop,” Joanna insisted again, pulling her other hand out from underneath her pillow and holding on to his face with both. He couldn’t help but look into her dark green eyes, pleading with him to listen. “After all this tough talk and you’re doing that thing you do,” she laughed, ”you know the thing!” Drake’s neck was turning red as he looked away. “You held my hand.”

“Huh?” his eyes quickly found his wife’s again, unsure if he heard correctly.

“Do you remember that?”

“Yeah…?”

“Why did you do that?”

“I…I dunno,” he fumbled, looking for a good answer, but as in many situations, Drake Walker’s complete lack of creativity had bitten him in the ass. He sighed and settled for telling her the simple lack luster truth, hoping it would somehow be enough. “I like holding your hand.” He shrugged.

“I know you do,” Joanna smiled. “I was expecting, and for the record was very excited for, some really steamy, rough sex with my husband. And you held my hand and it just…”

“What?” he urged, getting nervous.

“Being married to you…it’s freeing,” Joanna smiled again and watched the lines in Drake’s forehead soften. “No matter what happens, we’re gonna be here tomorrow and the pressure is off. I’m going to love being with you, in whatever way you’ll have me. And it’s not intimidating or uncomfortable because I know that when we’re done screaming each other’s names,” she winked, “you’re still the man who holds my hand.” Joanna smiled and rested her forehead against his, “I’m looking forward to hours of fucking and making love and everything in between. I’m not going anywhere, darlin.”

He laughed, throwing an arm around her middle and dragging her closer. “How are you so hot and so comforting at the same time?”

“Learned from the hottest and most comforting Walker there is,” she planted a kiss on his lips. “I love you, Drake Walker. So much.”

“I know and I love you, Joanna Walker. So fucking much.” Drake pulled her face to his, crushing his lips against hers again, this time his lips moved slow, but powerfully, willing her to feel every ounce of love and desire he had for her through it.

“Good,” she said, pulling away with a satisfied grin. “So uh…does this mean you’ll be rougher with me?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows playfully at him.

He chuckled, leaning in to speak against her forehead, “not always.”

“Special occasions?” she grinned, hopefully.

“Sure, Holidays, Birthdays, Tuesdays, whatever the hell you want, baby,” he winked.

Joanna laughed in response. “I’m looking forward to it. For the record, that whole…side of you,” Drake’s eyes shot to hers, seeing her grin, “It’s really hot.”

Drake groaned, “you really should not have said that…” he said in a warning tone.

“Well, I stand by it,” she smirked, resting her forehead against his and lowering her voice to a gravelly, sexy octave, her fingertips ghosting over his lips in a feather light touch that sent chills down his spine while her eyes bore into his, equally sweet and sexy. “I like Sir Drake Walker.”

Drake took a sharp breath, trying not to get ahead of himself. He filed away this new information to use at a later date. There were so many things he wanted to do with her, but he wanted to do it right. Not after a long night of drinking, teasing, and exhaustive sex. He really felt like he had all the time in the world and he smirked to himself, thinking of all the ways he intended to use it.

“Drake?” her soft voice pulled him from him thoughts.

“Yes, dear?” he said sarcastically.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Can you just…” she started.

“Way ahead of you,” he smiled, wrapping his arms tightly around her, feeling the warmth of her tired breaths against his neck and chest. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. In moments like this Drake desired nothing more than to hold her and make her feel wanted, protected, and loved. More than anyone else had. If he was being honest, he loved this part as much as the fun and sweaty bits that came before it. He buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply and letting her very presence fill his lungs. He smiled contently, loving their new version of moments in between. Still finding time to sneak away with each other. Be with each other. They didn’t have any guilt surrounding them and Drake took a deep breath, thinking about his wife. She was right. They were free and being married to her was freeing. That’s love, he thought. That’s us.

Joanna’s breathing evened out quickly and soon, his wife was asleep, leaning heavily against his chest and arms. “Agape mou,” he whispered, kissing her hair, “kardia mou,” he dragged his lips to her ear, “zoi mou.”

The atmosphere wasn’t dissimilar from any other bar he’d ever been the patron of. It had a glossy wooden counter that reflected the brightly backlit shelves until you could look down in front of you and order from the mirrored image of bottles lined up against a florescent blue background. The stools were tall, too tall, the kind you lean against casually while convincing a stranger that you’re worth their time, not the kind you sit at, hunched over uncomfortably while waiting for a friend who was almost an hour late. Drake stood and brought his shoulder blades together, taking a deep breath as his ears filled with pops and cracks that only served to remind how long he’d been waiting. With a twist of his trunk, further stretching his stiff spine, he caught the glances of a group of women, one of whom had sent him a drink some twenty minutes ago. The drink sat, untouched, glass sinking into the black napkin that wilted under the sweat. The ice was almost completely melted, rendering the whiskey damn near undrinkable, not that he’d intended to indulge when it was still viable. Drake nodded to the bartender, who said nothing in return, and walked from the bar without allowing his eyes to connect with the gaping faces in the corner. Once out of sight, he smirked, allowing himself a moment, to feel that arrogant indulgence of outwardly rejecting someone who clearly was not used to such treatment.

The elevator doors closed and Drake leaned back, moving his fingers impatiently and listening to the metallic ting of his gold band against the brushed steel bar behind him. There were many aspects of his new life that were unexpected, unimaginable for the life he’d lived as little as a year ago. Being a duke came with challenges that he’d rightly anticipated. The monotony of allowing people to air their entitled grievances in his presence, the struggle of maintaining the needs of the people within the resources allocated for him to do just that, the seemingly constant flights across the continent with Liam, while he tried to prove himself more than just the King’s friend and confidant, but a duke worth his own salt. Many aspects of his life were unexpected and he’d accepted that on the day that he accepted a duchy and title that often came back to bite him in the ass, but sitting alone in some hotel bar in Germany, waiting for the King, who was punctual to a fault, even obnoxiously so, was not how Drake anticipated spending his Wednesday night. Liam assured him that they’d be home before another weekend was spent away from their wives, but Drake rolled his eyes when his friend promised nights of camaraderie like they once knew, before being the King and the Duke with apparently endless business to attend to. Yet, no such companionship had appeared that night, despite the coming and the passing hour of their dinner reservation. Liam hadn’t answered his phone either and Drake was rightfully feeling slighted.

Drake marched to the King’s suite door, bypassing the guard seated inconspicuously at the end of the hall, “reading” a newspaper and eyeing the door from over top. He pounded angrily on the thick wooden door. His beat was merciless, not allowing a moment between collisions and the side of his fist grew warmer with every impact. The door finally flew open and Drake’s mouth with it.

“What the hell?” he asked as he took in Liam’s appearance. He was haphazardly wrapped up in a silk bathrobe, his chest nearly on full display and unfortunately Drake could tell that his friend was completely nude beneath the thin material. Liam’s dark eyes were glassy and despite the loud interruption that pulled him from his activities, he was smiling like a fool, looking high as a kite, though he’d never been one for recreational substances. His cheeks were pink like his health had plummeted in the last hour and was suddenly feverish. Drake squinted and snarled when he noticed the usually expertly coiffed hair was ruffled beyond recognition while his lips were swollen and uncharacteristically shiny.

“Fuck…” Drake grumbled. There was only one possible answer for the King’s disheveled state and Drake’s face twisted in anger as he called out for her. “Olivia?!”

Liam chuckled to himself, a crimson blush creeping up his neck.

“If I announce my presence will you please leave?” the Queen called back, presumably from the comfort of Liam’s bed. Drake had never been so thankful for the ostentatious size of Liam’s hotel rooms, for today it kept her doubtless naked form completely out of sight from where the men stood by the open door.

“I thought this was strictly business?” Drake spat, throwing Liam’s words back in his face, to which the king merely shrugged, still drunk in love. It was repulsive to the duke, who’d been without his own wife for weeks at the King’s request. “Seal the deal then celebrate like men, that’s what youwanted.” Drake reminded him, a long finger jutting ruthlessly into Liam’s chest, who only chuckled through his wincing.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Olivia called out again, voice maintaining it’s usual shrill, but composed nature. It was entirely unwelcome to Drake’s ears and the very knowledge that she was present annoyed him as much as seeing her would have. “I brought you a present too. Should be in your room.”

After a moment of contemplation, Drake sprang back to life and sprinted down the hall to the elevator, abandoning a slightly loopy Liam to be dragged back to bed, all thoughts of dinner and drinks long forgotten. As soon as the door closed, he whipped out his phone, smiling for just a second at his wallpaper, Joanna’s goofy grin as his lips grazed her ear just out of the frame. He didn’t need to linger on the memory, he’d be seeing her smile and hearing her laughter, feeling her lips any moment now.

You didn’t….he typed and sent with a smirk. Of course she did, that was his Joanna, so full of surprises and full of love for-

Didn’t what?He read her reply and chuckled. Playing like that, huh?He skidded to a halt in front of his door, fumbling with the key in his breast pocket. Finally the light on the lock flashed green and he swung the door open, ignoring the loud bang it made ramming into the closet door. He frantically scanned the space for evidence of her. No bag by the door. No shoes kicked off in the middle of the floor. He took the last few steps inside, turning the corner to get a better view and on his bed he found a single bottle of whiskey, with the Royal Family’s seal on the label. Oh.

His phone pinged with another text from his wife. You okay?

Drake’s heart clenched uncharacteristically. There was no reason for her to be there. It was business for he and Liam and it would be unbecoming if he never left her side. The travelling rarely affected him so. He wasn’t expecting her to show up, at least he hadn’t, not before Olivia had. He didn’t need her there, but he was kind of hoping… Drake ignored the vibrating in his hand until he heard the latest of Joanna’s custom ringtones.

The heavy guitars strummed and a man’s voice filled the room singing “I feel like making love!” Drake scoffed as a smile slowly replaced the frown on his face. His wife had a habit of sneaking his phone away from him long enough to change the song that played when she called him. They were usually loud, by some unruly and unrefined hair band, and always embarrassed him if anyone else was around to hear them. Which is why the Duke often left his phone on vibrate or simply didn’t bring it to important meetings out of fear. He knew she did this whenever the mood struck. He also knew that he’d never stop her.

“Hey,” he answered eventually.

“Hey you,” her voice was so welcome, even from countries and miles away. “Are you okay?”

Drake sighed and fell against his bed, the bottle of whiskey rolling from its place against the pillows to follow the dip in the mattress until he felt the bump against the top of his head. Drake sat up and placed the bottle on the side table. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered, knowing it was a feeble attempt. She would never believe him.

“Drake…” he melted every time his name left her lips. He couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t thrilled at the change of plans that evening. It wasn’t often just he and Liam anymore and though he couldn’t admit it, Drake was looking forward to hanging up his Duke cap as soon as possible so he and his friend could roam the streets of Berlin like they did when they were young. Not that they needed to be alone to have fun. But the longing in his chest built at the realization that he wasn’t jealous of Olivia for pulling Liam away…he was jealous of Liam for having someone to pull him away. Dammit, Drake thought to himself. He missed his wife.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, pausing to exhale loudly. “I just…I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she said and he could hear her smile in her voice. He could see it. That sweet, sympathetic grin with eyes that saw him and always understood.

He recognized the sounds in the background. She was in a car, obviously headed somewhere. She didn’t need to be burdened with his sentimentality and self-pity. Drake stood and headed for the door. No use sitting around while Liam was occupied. At least now he could go wherever he wanted and eat something incredibly undignified, just like he liked his meals.  

“Hey. I’m going to go out and grab something to eat, I’ll uh… I’ll let you go. Call me before bed?”

“I can do that,” she said.  “Drake?”

He paused after exiting the hotel, looking around trying to decide which direction to head next. “Yeah?”

“Se agapo.”

Drake laughed to himself, unable to keep the smile from his face. “I love you too, Walker. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up, lingering on his wallpaper one more time, taking in the warmth of her smile, even from afar. Dammit. He thought as he wandered down the street looking for something acceptable.

The bar was divey, homey, warm and the air smelled stale and greasy. Exactly what he was looking for. Just as he looked up from his phone, after Googling how to order a cheeseburger in German, which was surprisingly easy to do, the bartender passed a glass of whiskey under his nose. Not again. Drake shot a confused look over the bar to which the gentleman said something that sounded like “diesel Dahmer” and nodded over to the end of the bar.

“No shit…” Drake murmured with a slight smirk. There was a woman leaning against the end of the bar, running two fingers over her bottom lip as she shamelessly eyed him with a smirk of her own. Her dark wavy hair, the casual yet enticing clothing, the lightly tanned skin. It was all too familiar. Drake shook his head in disbelief, but he didn’t let his gaze wander as she strolled up to him, slowly and confidently, clearly playing a game. She took her place on the stool next to him and looked as though she would lean toward him, when she changed direction to lean across the bar instead.

“Zwei Burger mit Kase und…” she drew out the long U sound as she glanced back at Drake, pondering her next move. “Und Pommes,” she said quickly, shooting him smile and nodding to the bartender. “Bitte.”

“My hero,” Drake grinned, lifting his glass toward his guest before taking a sip. He set the glass down and in a swift motion, Drake spun her stool, pulling her closer in the process and leaning over her, trapping her between his body and the bar. “Hello, Joanna.”

“Wer ist Joanna?” she asked, shrugging innocently.

“She’s right here…finally,” he groaned, leaning in to claim her lips for himself. God, he missed that. Joanna gripped the lapels of his jacket pulling him in closer for a moment, but pushing him away before either could get carried away.

“Wer means who,” she giggled breathlessly and Drake rolled his eyes. Joanna shoved him away with one hand and spun back to face the bar, before speaking again, this time in English, but with an exaggerated accent. “You know, you should learn a little of the language before traveling somewhere.”

“My wife would agree with you,” he grinned, following her lead and reclaiming his seat, but keeping a hand on her thigh, brushing over her tight denim with his thumb.

“Sounds like smart woman, your wife,” she smirked back, taking a sip of her own drink and licking her lips slowly, watching him shift in his seat as his eyes were locked on the movement of her tongue. It was too easy sometimes. “So what brings to Berlin? Business or pleasure?”

“If I’m lucky…both,” he said in a low voice. Drake leaned in to whisper against the shell of her ear, “are we really doing this right now?” Joanna stifled a laugh, partly at the sensation of his warm breath so close to her and partly at his momentary lapse in character. She hadn’t planned on committing to her little game, but if he was going to play along… Joanna nodded wordlessly, tingles running down her spine at the feeling of his lips passing over her ear as she did. “Alright, m’lady,” he whispered, turning his face to kiss her cheek, “this will be fun.”

Their meal went by too quickly, laughing, teasing, “learning” new things about each other. The Walkers pulled their little game away from the bar, the closeness becoming too much, and settled into a booth, looking at each other like it was their first date, forgetting briefly that there was a world moving around them. There were patrons, a bartender that was eyeing them suspiciously, and a very public venue that wouldn’t be so accepting of the thoughts running through their minds.

Joanna flagged down someone to order another round, requesting for them to leave the bottle this time.

“I can’t believe you speak German,” Drake laughed into his drink, dropping the façade briefly. His wife winked at him from across the table, gesturing with her thumb and forefinger that she only spoke a little. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the bar, maybe it was being abroad together, maybe it was the combination of whiskey and ignoring the years of married bliss, but they found themselves in yet another heated round of never have I ever. They hadn’t played since that night in Paris. The night that Drake told himself that he’d marry the girl across from him. It took him a while to make good on that promise, but the memory was a fond one. He had her pressed up against the bathroom door as if they were free to give in to such bold desires and he was downright hooked on the taste of what could be. Now, three years later, she was his, completely. They had a life he would have never dared dream up for himself and the realities that their little game was bringing to his mind were overwhelming. While Joanna considered her next statement carefully, Drake was lost, staring at his wife, his family, his world sitting across from him and thinking how damn lucky he was.

“Never have I ever….” Joanna tapped her chin thoughtfully, “picked up someone in a bar in a foreign country.”

Drake laughed and shook his head.

“Oh come on, drink,” she insisted, reaching across the table and pushing his glass toward him with a wide grin. “That’s how you got me, isn’t it?” Her eyebrows shot up playfully and Drake laughed again, dutifully taking a drink, but keeping his eyes on hers.

“Never have I ever flirted so shamelessly with a married man,” he teased and Joanna proudly drained her glass in its entirety. She slammed it back onto the table with a flourish and released a satisfied gasp after she swallowed.

“I shamelessly flirt with a married man every day,” she said winking and running her foot up the inside of his leg from under the table. “and it’s very fun.”

Drake laughed again and shook his head, capturing her foot in his hand and caressing her ankle. He let his hand wander higher, squeezing gently as he watched her tug on her bottom lip with her teeth. She knew how much he liked that, but she’d dropped the ridiculous accent and she wasn’t known for playing fair in a game like this. He leaned over the table and lifted his chin, urging her silently to meet him half way. She leaned in slightly and smirked at him, knowing it was time to end the drinking game before he took her on the dirty table between them. Drake swallowed hard at the look in her eye. He was very familiar and he felt his excitement growing. He cleared his throat before tightening his grip on her calf. “Your turn,” he said.

“Never have I ever wanted to get out of a bar so badly…”

“Call a cab,” he ordered quickly, “now,” he added, dropping her leg from his lap and stumbling on his way to the bar so he could settle their tab. It was brief, but steamy ride from the bar to Drake’s hotel. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself and the way Joanna’s fingers tangled themselves deep in his dark brown locks told him that the feeling was mutual. Their lips parted only long enough for Joanna to give their destination to the driver, during which Drake’s mouth was hot and distracting against her neck, making it nearly impossible to speak coherently. In reality they could have walked back, but at the rate they were going, they’d never make it back, giving in to each other between a couple buildings, barely sating their need.

Though peeling himself from his wife seemed an impossible task, the promise of a thorough and proper ravishing was waiting just a few floors above them and it was all the motivation Drake needed to pull them both from the car, through the lobby, and toward the elevator bank. Joanna giggled as she watched him mash his thumb into the button repeatedly, his impatience growing with every passing second. As soon as the doors opened, Drake tightened his grip on Joanna’s hand and pulled her in, before tossing her against the shiny metal wall. Instinctively, Joanna’s legs wrapped around her husband’s waist, while his hands made their intent known, wandering up and down her sides, grazing her breasts and toying with the hem of her shirt with every pass. Finally, he slipped his fingers past the fabric between them, letting the skin of her middle warm his hands and he pulled himself closer, lips still locked on hers and unwilling to be released. The elevator paused and the door opened. Too soon, Drake thought, and he froze, as was his custom when caught in a compromising position. Joanna, very used to his possum-like behavior and unashamed of how much her husband affected her, rested her chin on his shoulder as she smiled to the couple that awkwardly stood at the door. After some uncomfortable seconds, clearly debating whether or not it was worth it to enter, the couple joined the Walkers. Drake’s face was hidden in the crook of Joanna’s neck, hands flattened against her bare back, hips pressing against hers, but the frantic movements of the ride so far had ceased. Joanna conversed casually with the woman next to her as if her calves weren’t resting atop her husband’s ass and she wasn’t holding onto his shoulders for dear life

She could feel Drake shaking his head against her neck. He hated when she did this, at least, he pretended to. If he wanted her to be ashamed of how much they loved each other, he was shit out of luck. No amount of embarrassment reached her, not when he was involved, or when his body was physically shielding hers from view. A couple floors passed and the elevator doors opened again. Joanna squeezed the back of Drake’s neck and he spun them away from the wall, marching her out the door without dropping her and, in a last attempt to be polite, tossed a hand up in the air as they exited, with Joanna’s body still wrapped around him and her giggling warm against his face. Drake tightened his grip and hastened the, thankfully, short distance to his door. He fumbled with his room key, while Joanna purposefully distracted him, licking up his neck until she could tug his earlobe between her teeth, whimpering as she did, knowing how crazy it drove him. Finally, Drake groaned as he pushed the door in and spun them to press her against the door, swallowing her gasp as he captured her lips in another fiery kiss.

“What’s the rush?” she laughed, barely able to speak against his hungry lips.

Drake pulled away to rest his forehead against hers and give them both a second to catch their breath. He chuckled to himself as he thought about their little game. “My wife doesn’t usually visit me on business trips but…” he whispered roughly, though the kiss he left on her nose was anything but. “I’d hate for her to show up unexpectedly and cut this short,” he teased her with a broad smile. It wasn’t often Joanna managed to surprise him like this, travelling unnecessarily just to spend extra time with him, both knowing he’d be home in a few days, but it excited him to no end that she still wanted to. His joke, however, appeared to fall flat as he pulled back and saw a confused…almost hurt look on Joanna’s face. Not at all the reaction he was expecting.

“Your wife?” Her voice was barely above a whisper and her body went limp in his arms.

Shaken by her unexpected response to his teasing, Drake released his grip, dropping her and stepping back from the wall, providing her an escape, which she took gratefully and wordlessly, exiting his room without so much as a backward glance or a word of explanation. Drake fell forward, catching himself with a forearm, and he leaned his forehead against his clenched fist.

“What the fuck?” he said aloud, completely confused. It was her game. Did he take it too far? Of course he did. Fuck.

Drake slapped the wall in front of him and pushed away to chase her, but a subtle knocking caught him off guard. Warily, he opened the hotel door and there she stood. Joanna was propped up against the doorframe with one arm, looking up at him, both sweetly and seductively, from underneath her eyelashes. Her face wore no evidence that she’d just walked out on him, but rather…she was smirking at him.

“Hey, Walker,” she said, lifting her chin and giving him a better look at her grin. “Miss me?”

Drake hesitated and she saw the confusion on his face, clear as day. Joanna reached out and took one of his hands in hers, squeezing it as she gave him a reassuring wink. Satisfied with her intent, Drake stepped forward, squeezing her hand back and wrapping his free one around the back of her neck. He tangled his fingers in her dark waves and let his thumb run lightly over her jaw, up over her chin to her lips, where the pad of his finger was met with a light kiss.

“You’re so weird,” he groaned, his own smile growing as he replaced his finger with his lips, kissing her and crushing both their smiles against each other. The kiss was slow and filled with longing as he pulled his wife into his room, keeping one hand locked behind her head, while the other made it’s way around her waist to pull her into him, making sure she wouldn’t be able to escape again. It had been a long week without her. He missed her and now that she was pressed against him, soft moans escaping her, he wasn’t going to let her go. No more games.

Drake groaned as he tripped over something in the dark, purely out of annoyance needing no other interruptions. He begrudgingly broke their kiss to look at his feet, where he stood half on a canvas bag he recognized as his wife’s.

“How’d you get your bags in here already?” he asked, thoroughly distracted as he tried to figure out how she could surprise him so well.

Joanna smiled, shaking her head as she leaned down to pull the bag from under Drake’s shoe and toss it next to the dresser, out of the way. “You were storming out of the hotel when I pulled up,” Drake’s eyes widened as he recalled their phone call. She was in a car. But she was already coming to see him. “I ran in to have my bag brought up after security confirmed I was in fact Mrs. Walker, then followed you to that bar,” she explained, laughing lightly as she did. “You really do have a talent for finding the coolest places in every city.”

“Did you doubt me?” Drake asked, teasing tone returning to his voice as the pieces fell into place.

“I never doubt you,” she smiled and Drake surged forward to kiss her again. Joanna giggled against his kiss, a feeling that he loved more than anything, and he walked her straight to bed, where he pulled her down atop him, letting her settle with her legs on either side of him. She pulled away briefly, to smile down at him and teasingly asked, “who should I be next?”

Drake tightened his grip on her waist and her hair as he pulled her in for another kiss, but paused to hold her just above him. Her lips hovered just above his own and she could feel the vibrations of his words against them when he spoke. “I just need my wife,” he said quietly and sincerely.

Joanna smiled, nodded in understanding, and closed the remaining distance between them, falling back into his embrace, holding his face in her hands and kissing him with a slow building passion. Drake’s hands resumed their wandering with purpose, letting his fingers graze her soft skin and leave goose bumps in his wake. Joanna pulled herself up onto her knees allowing him to peel her shirt up and over her head. Drake followed suit, sitting up to kiss her neck while she pushed his jacket from his broad shoulders and fiddled with the tie around his neck, until she successfully slid it out from underneath his collar. Her fingers worked quickly to unbutton and pull off his dress shirt, while Drake’s lips wandered down her throat, before finding purchase nipping and sucking the warm skin atop her breasts.

“Drake…” she moaned, only encouraging him as he wound his arms around her, unclasping her bra and dragging his lips farther down her chest, claiming her breast for himself. Joanna dissolved into sighs, melting into the sensation of his warm, wet mouth, sucking and pulling her pebbled skin until her nipple was erect against his tongue and he kissed his way across her chest to repeat his process. Completely involuntarily, she rolled her hips against his, feeling his hard length brushing back and forth against her. Joanna watched as he worshipped her with his mouth. He loved her breasts, they were his to touch and taste and he always took his time with them. She loved to watch him work. The hungry snarl of his lip as he pulled away to catch his breath, the way his lips played with her nipples once they were nice and hard to his liking, the feel of his bearded chin and cheeks rubbing against her. Joanna sighed again, heat pooling deep within her as she watched and ground into him harder, earning her a satisfied groan from the back of his throat. She could watch him drag his teeth over her sensitive skin all day, encouraging him with her fingers, playing with his hair and scratching soothing circles against his scalp until she felt his moans vibrating against her chest.

He was a wonder to watch, but it was nothing compared to what came next.

As expected, Drake lifted himself from the bed to turn and toss Joanna into the mattress. “Yes”, she whispered, watching him work his way down her stomach, leaving a cool trail where his tongue had been. He rested, circling his nose around her belly button while his hands made quick work of her jeans, unbuttoning and hooking his fingers into her underwear, pulling both down off her legs without hesitation. He hoisted her by the hips and tossed her back against the pillows.

“You’re so beautiful, nyfi mou,” he growled, falling on his stomach and lifting her legs to rest over his shoulders. “So beautiful and all mine…” she heard him say moments before diving in for his prize. At the first contact of his tongue, parting her wet lips, Joanna tossed her head back against the pillows. She squirmed as he teased her, but his hands gripped her hips tighter, holding her in place as he continued his sweet torture. Joanna forced her eyes open, God he was good at this.

The contrast never ceased to amaze her. Here she was, struggling to breathe, every inhalation becoming quicker, every exhale shaking as her excitement grew. Her chest was heaving as the most delicious sensation radiated out from her core until her toes curled and her legs shook against his broad muscled back. Her hips moved involuntarily, bucking up off the bed, desperate for more of him, but his rough grip held her still. This was his time, his time to love her, to savor her taste, to get her all riled up for him. It was his time and he certainly knew how to take his time.

Joanna, despite her inability to think clearly, was mesmerized by him and had to watch as she had before. He looked so peaceful, nestled comfortably between her thighs as if it were the only place in the world he wanted to be, thumbs rubbing her hips, occasionally digging in when she squirmed too much. His eyes were closed, face so relaxed, except for the tic in his jaw as he sucked-

“Oh God,” Joanna cried out, back arching off the mattress and fingers twisting painfully in the comforter beneath her. Her breathing was labored and the pleasure was almost too much, but he never slowed. He’d never stop, not until he got what he came for, what he thirsted for, what he needed. Drake needed her to fall apart for him, more than he needed air. He buried his face in her core, wrapping his lips around her swollen and sensitive clit, listening intently to the sobbing moans that escaped her throat. She was close, but not close enough. Drake used his tongue against her, waiting for the moment. Joanna’s hands flew to his hair, digging in and pressing his face into her throbbing heat. There she is, he smirked, moaning at the feeling of her fingers tugging on his locks.

“Drake! Draa-I-yesss,” she hissed, drunk on the way his moans vibrated up her spine, keeping him pressed against her. He moaned again and pressed his tongue roughly against her clit massaging it before replacing his lips to draw every ounce of pleasure from deep within her, to draw every sigh and moan and over stimulated cry, from her perfect throat. “Okay, okay,” she said, absolutely breathless, voice quaking with need. Here we go, Drake thought, smirking as he prepared for their dance. He’d been building her up, slow and steady, working her over with his tongue, until she was on the brink of orgasm. His wife, mercilessly under his spell, and he, the cause of all her pleasure. The thought spurred him on and with renewed hunger, Drake used his tongue to push her over. Here on the brink…they danced.

Joanna shook beneath him, digging her heels into the bed on either side of him and he tightened his grip on her sides. She lifted her hips to meet him, but he held her down. She cried out for him, but he refused to stop. She snapped her legs closed around his head, but he pried them back open. She wiggled and writhed, but he followed her movements, keeping his mouth against her, waiting eagerly for her. Joanna tried to pull away, twisting her middle and biting the pillow as she screamed, but Drake chased her down. He was addicted to the dance, the moments just before she gave in to him after he spent so long drawing out her pleasure, lapping at her wet heat like a man dying of thirst. The final shudder came and with one hand, he reached up to squeeze a sensitive nipple, urging her on.

“Draaaaake,” she moaned loudly, her body almost completely rigid, thighs shivering against the side of his face as he slowed his tongue, accepting all the nectar her orgasm offered him, and worked her down from her high. He dutifully massaged her legs until they fell limp against his back. He kissed her soaking wet lips until he heard her pitiful, exhausted whimpers, the tell tale sign that she needed him close to her.

Drake quickly removed his belt and trousers, before laying himself back over his wife, letting his body press her into the mattress. It was a comforting weight that she never seemed to tire of and Joanna tugged the hair at the back of his head until she was rewarded with his slick mouth on hers, kissing her slowly and lovingly. She thrust her tongue against his, deepening the kiss and he responded immediately, moaning into her mouth and brushing her messy hair out of her face.

“God, that was perfect,” he whispered against her lips. “You are so good for me, baby.” Unable to speak, Joanna whimpered again and dragged her fingernails down his back, feeling his muscles flutter under her touch and his groaning against her throat where he suctioned his lips once again. She stopped at the waistband of his boxer briefs, dragging them down over his ass, freeing his rock hard length, until she could push them the rest of the way down his legs with her feet.

“I need you,” Joanna finally managed to say, her voice weak and needy with desire. Drake lifted his face from her neck to kiss her once more before…

“I love you, Walker,” he whispered, holding her face in one hand. She shuddered at the sound of his voice, thick and dripping with lust, declaring his love for her and using his name for her. He paused with his engorged tip at her welcoming entrance. This was their favorite part and he’d savor it. The first push. Joanna’s eyes rolled back at the feeling, his thick length filling and stretching her perfectly. Drake swore in a muddled mess of English and Greek, letting his face fall against her shoulder. No matter how many times they came together, the result was the same, time stopping, earth shaking moment as Drake pushed his hips into his wife’s and they became one. It was the familiar sensation of a person that felt like home. It was the joining of two in the most intimate way, heart, soul, and finally body. It was the beautiful mess of them. Drake shuddered at the slick warmth that welcomed him and he reveled in the sounds she was making, quiet and needy moans, just for him. He pulled back, before pressing in again, inching his way in with every pass, working through the subtle yet satisfying resistance. The friction and heat between them was intoxicating and both were struggling to maintain their composure.

“Let me hear you,” he said through clenched teeth. It took every ounce of control he had not to lose himself and plow her mercilessly into the mattress. No. Not this time. They’d been waiting for this moment, he’d worked her up this far, and there was no racing to the finish.

Joanna moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him in and pulling him deeper with every thrust of his hips. “More,” she sighed, pleading with him as she dug into his arm with her fingernails and threw the other over her eyes.

“As you wish,” he smirked. Within moments, Drake leaned back to pull her legs from his waist to hold them up in the air, kissing and biting the skin of her calf as he thrust himself into her. Joanna’s shoulders dug into the bed as her back arched up for him again, every inch of skin on fire. Drake took care to place her legs against his shoulders again, before leaning in to remove her arm from her face. “I want to see you,” he whispered against her lips, twining his fingers in hers as he pinned her hands next to her head. His movements were so tender compared to the now urgent swinging of his hips against hers.

Joanna sighed as her eyes rolled back and Drake moved in and out of her, his slow passion building and quickening with every pass. He watched intently as her mouth hung wide, her soft moans from before long since passed as incoherent pleasure took over her and no more words passed between them. Drake’s deep, piercing strokes hurtled them both toward the deepest satisfaction, every nerve alight and desperate to be met with the other’s skin, hot to the touch. The warmth of her walls clenching tightly around his length, drawing him deeper still, was too much for Drake and his steady thrusts turned to a reckless frenzy of passion and need, spurred on by his wife’s gasping cries that rang out like a song of ecstasy in his ear. He growled against her neck, gripping her hands in his, as he pumped through his release and finished deep within her, his teeth on her skin and her outcries drowned out by the deep rumbling that vibrated through his entire being.

Drake dragged Joanna’s legs from his shoulders lazily and let them fall, boneless on either side of his hips. He lowered himself as gently as he could manage in his post orgasm exhaustion. Joanna huffed and laughed as he collided with her chest. Not the tender landing he’d hoped for, but it never was and she always wrapped him up, welcoming the way he crumpled against her.

It could have been an hour, it could have been ten minutes that the Walkers lay stuck each other with sweat. The sticky skin and weeks of missing each other worked against them. Just as their breathing had slowed and Drake had resigned to falling asleep inside his wife, disregarding any future discomfort in favor of staying right where he was, the hotel phone rang loudly. Drake grumbled, as he planted both palms against the mattress and pushed himself up off his wife, before rolling onto his back so he could fumble blindly for the white handset on the side table.

“What the fuck,” he groaned when his hand found nothing and the phone kept ringing.

“Hello?” Drake heard Joanna say and his hand stopped moving. Wrong side. “Yes, I’ll let him know, thank you.” Drake rolled his head to look expectantly across the bed. Joanna looked back at him after hanging up. “Your breakfast meeting is cancelled,” she grinned. “The King is requesting a dinner instead to finalize everything.”

Drake laughed. “Sounds about right. You won’t hear me complain.”

Joanna rolled onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow so that she could lean over and kiss the corner of her husband’s mouth. “So…since you don’t have anywhere to be in the morning…?”

Drake chuckled and pulled her on top of him to kiss her soundly. “God, I missed you,” he whispered before losing himself in her again and again…and again.

@mind-reader1

@sleepwalkingelite

@zaffrenotes

@likethetailofacomet

@gardeningourmet

@brightpinkpeppercorn

@notoriouscs

@ritachacha

@carabeth

@blackwidow2721

@speedyoperarascalparty                 

@endlessly-searching-for-you  

@jovialyouthmusic

@debramcg1106

@the-everlasting-dream 

November in Cordonia was still bright and green. So bright it was almost hard to look at directly and so different from the fall seasons in the states. Drake Walker had come to expect the crunching leaves and changing colors, but when none fell upon the capital’s cobbled streets, Cordonia felt a little less like home. 

It was a normal Tuesday morning, when Drake was standing in the royal stables, greeting the sun through still green leaves, trying to imagine the well manicured lawns and pastures littered with orange and red and brown. There were plenty of areas in the country where crisp weather changes were to be expected. The drive to Lythikos often felt like a drive through time, not distance, as the seasons changed with every passing mile, ending in a chilly winter so different from the flowering spring-like capital or summery Portavira. The capital was idyllic. Too idyllic. Some days it gave Drake a headache and today was one of those days. 

Marabelle’s Dream, a filly with black eyes and frilly mane to match her name and personality, was stomping in the stall next to him. Drake’s eyes rolled back in his head before continuing their annoyed journey to fall on the young face with the white star on her nose. In a couple years, she’d be a hell of a runner and he fully anticipated seeing her in the winner’s circle before too long, but for now, she was a pain in the ass of every stable hand. If she made it through her first year without being sold off, Drake would make a point to bet on her. It was a big “if” though. 

With a perfunctory slap and scratch up the horse’s cheek to her forehead, brushing back the course bangs before palming the soft skin of her snout while her tongue and teeth searched for an invisible treat in his hand, Drake walked out of the stables back across the expansive lawns toward the palace. His legs were moving quickly, but it was nothing compared to the breakneck pace at which his mind was whirling. 

Liam ducked into the room with two polite knocks less than an hour later, hoping to entice Drake for an impromptu trip to Applewood for drinks and rifle shoots. What he found was his friend, sitting in a chair by the window, knee jiggling next to a full duffle bag. 

“Drake…?” 

“She hasn’t called me in weeks,” Drake answered curtly. His statement was directed at the prince, but his eyes were glued to his cell phone. 

“I figured as much…” Liam remarked, nodding. His friend’s mood had soured, well more than usual, in the past month and Liam, in his newly cleared head, noticed and felt guilty for not noticing sooner. “When was the last time you called her?” he asked, knowing it was a shaky limb he was crawling out on. 

Drake looked up at that, tapping something on his phone with vigor, as his eyes narrowed. The glare softened after a few seconds, though it was anything but soft. “It’s been a while.” 

“So…” Liam stepped inside the small room with his arms crossed. “What now?”

“I’m going back,” Drake said resolutely, standing and crossing the room without glancing in the Prince’s direction. Liam’s wellness was increasing by the day and Drake no longer felt the need to pussyfoot around him like he had in the months prior. 

As Drake passed, Liam slapped his shoulder and scoffed. “It’s about time,” Liam smirked and followed him out of the room. 

“Yeah…” Drake mused to himself, practically jogging down the hallway, hoping that it wasn’t too late. 

---

While his heart was in the right place, a somewhat frantic place, but the right place nonetheless, Drake realized quickly upon touching down in America that he didn’t know Joanna anymore. His girlfriend, if he could still call her that, was a complete mystery to him. Drake went through the airport to the rental car line and out to the parking lot in a haze. He didn’t have a clue where to start first, knowing that courtesy of his own failings, she was no longer in the apartment that they’d shared before he left. On the drive to campus, it occurred to Drake that he hadn’t the faintest idea what classes Joanna was taking or what job she’d bounced to now. He could try the softball complex, but the odds of running into someone he recognized were slim and the prospect of talking to a bunch of strange girls begging for information sounded like Drake Walker’s personal hell. Passing the frozen yogurt shop that they’d frequented made him briefly consider pulling a U turn in the middle of the street and storming through the bright orange doors, but he knew it would be fruitless. 

Out of his own ideas, Drake dug his phone out of his pocket and turned to an old friend. If Matt didn’t know, Matt’s fiancee certainly would and that certainty was exactly what Drake needed in the moment. After four seemingly endless rings, Matt’s familiar drawl relieved Drake of his anxiety. 

“Hey, Drake, buddy, where have you-“

“Is Sarah with you??” Drake cut off his friend, mind only on one thing. 

Matt sighed audibly through the line. “No,” he paused, clearly sensing what was coming next. “...but she’ll be home any minute.”

Drake let his head fall back in relief. “I’m coming over.”

“Drake-” Matt interjected before his friend could hang up. “We uh...we’re in a new place.”

---

The shiny elevator doors opened and for what felt like the hundredth time in the last 24 hours, Drake was overcome with an uneasy feeling. Under any other circumstances, coming face to face with the very familiar front door of apartment 4B would feel like coming home. It was coming home for years, but without Joanna behind it, there was only cold unfamiliarity waiting for him. Drake took a deep breath, wishing that a girl in a big leather chair would greet him and clenched his fists preparing to knock, knowing full well that his greeting wouldn’t be so warm or inviting. He simply hadn’t been that lucky in months. 

A short blonde with her hand on her waist answered with an icy glare that someone so small and adorable shouldn’t be capable of. “Drake Walker,” Sarah seethed. “you got a lot of nerve-”

“I get it,” Drake rolled his eyes. “I’m a schmuck,” he gestured inside the apartment with an unspoken question and Sarah begrudgingly stepped aside before closing the door behind him. In the cursory glance around the main room, Drake found nothing familiar in his old haunt. Brightly colored pillows and plush toys filled the space with something it never contained when it was his. A clear future. “Can you just tell me where Joanna is?” Drake asked, trying not to let his impatience come across as annoyance. 

“This week?” Sarah asked with her arms crossed and Drake’s eyes widened at the response. He whipped around to face her, ignoring his friend who’d just entered the room, but purposefully stayed out of the conversation unfolding in his living room as he sat down. What the hell? Where is she? Drake shrugged and threw his arms out on the verge of giving up. Any answers would be better than the nothing he currently had to go on. 

“No,” Sarah shook her head. “honestly, I can’t.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Drake frowned. 

“She’s not here, Drake,” Sarah sighed and sat with Matt on the couch. Her fiance’s arm circled her shoulders and Drake could see how lost he was. Matt and Drake were close, but that was a long time ago. Even closer after he and Joanna started dating and the young men’s friendship evolved with them. It turned into group dates, long weekends, guys nights that sometimes ended early because neither was too prideful to admit they had more fun when Joanna and Sarah were around. But when Drake looked at Matt now all he saw was conflict. A young man, who cared about both of his friends and was unwilling to take a side with his limited knowledge. But if Sarah asked for his support, he and Drake both knew that he’d offer it immediately and Drake couldn’t blame him at all.

Suddenly a shrill cry cut through the apartment. 

“Is that...?” Drake started, pointing vaguely in the direction of his old bedroom.

“I’ve got her,” Matt said, lifting himself from the couch and removing himself from an already uncomfortable situation. 

“That’s Mila,” Sarah informed him. “She’s...she’s great.”

Drake swallowed. “Does Joanna-“

“Yes, Drake, Joanna has met her,” Sarah finished for him. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth up and it was the first time since Drake entered the apartment. Naturally, talking about her daughter and her best friend was what brought the nearly impervious smile back from the icy grip of bitterness. “She was there when she was born,” Sarah beamed, clearly looking back on a painful memory with the kind of fondness only a young mother could possess. Most surprising to Drake, the feelings it evoked in him. Those were secondary to what he currently needed and he quickly shoved them down, trying to ignore the image of Joanna with a newborn in her arms, being a trusted friend in the midst of a dramatic moment. It was so like her to be there for Sarah and he wanted desperately for her to be there… for him...now. 

“She’s spending her senior year in Berlin,” Sarah continued. She looked just as torn as her prtner and Drake was willing to push every button to get the information he needed. Of course he knew that Joanna was hurt when he left, but he hoped Sarah also knew how badly he’d hurt himself. She likely comforted her friend in her own way, but she had to know how good they were together. She’d seen them plenty over the last year. Drake and Joanna were meant to be and Sarah knew it. She encouraged them in the beginning. She simply had to help him now. Drake could tell that she was fighting the urge to kick him out in a show of solidarity for her friend, but she didn’t and he took it as a good sign. She kept speaking. “But it seems like she’s in a different country every other week.” 

What the hell? Drake thought to himself, scrunching his face. Sarah stood to retrieve her phone, pulling up a presumably recent photo and passing it to him. He saw the tags and kicked himself for never indulging in social media. Was it too late to start, he wondered, scrolling through photos from Joanna’s feed. 

Most didn’t even have people in them, as if she were capturing these monuments and landscapes as the only person on the planet, without a soul to interrupt her. He paused on one of the few that featured her. Arms outstretched, a lightly colored dress floating around her knees, while she beamed at the camera in the middle of a twirl. Drake couldn’t fathom how no one on the crowded cobbled street noticed her, when he sat thousands of miles away unable to tear his eyes away. He recognized the smile, the look in her eye. Joy. Purest joy, both freeing and life affirming. He’d seen it before and between the look on her face and her hair, lighter than he’d ever seen it, approaching blonde, Drake was back on that beach from the summer before. Knowing very little about all the obscure American holidays, Drake’s attempt at a spontaneous weekend was interrupted when there wasn’t a vacant hotel or motel within 30 miles. Joanna didn’t let it dull her smile as the two of them spent 3 days, baking in the sun, swimming in the salty Atlantic that now divided them, and spending their nights curled around each other on top of the flattened back seat of her car. With neck cramps and sweaty faces, Drake still woke to that same exuberant grin and he felt utterly deflated seeing it now, knowing he had contributed absolutely nothing to it. 

“She got the scholarship, Drake,” Sarah explained, reaching for her phone and pulling Drake back to the present. He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, passing the device back and wincing slightly when Sarah closed the app, as he felt Joanna disappear into the unknown again. The brief moments he held her photo in his hands were as close as he’d gotten since leaving for Cordonia so many months ago. Suddenly, he couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d let her fall so far away from him, why he hadn’t asked her to come with him, why he hadn’t been texting and calling to the point of annoyance just so she never doubted that he thought of her. Drake swallowed his regrets and looked back to Sarah who continued speaking. “She didn’t think she was going to, but someone dropped out of the running at the last second and she took it. I don’t blame her. Nothing here was holding her back.”

Drake winced again. To be fair, he wasn’t there. At the same time he’d never hold her back, never ask her to stay if he was. Still somehow the whole ordeal felt incredibly unfair to the young man who’d felt disillusioned since the day he left. Coming back to his- now his friends’- apartment, didn’t help at all. He cleared his throat, realizing he wasn’t the only one from whom she’d disappeared and tried to smile at Sarah, who was no longer in school, trying to raise a child at 22 without her closest friend in the country. It occurred to him that Joanna wouldn’t have made the decision she did without thinking it through. It wasn’t just him she left behind, but bringing that up seemed unnecessarily cruel. “What about- uh, the team? It’s her senior year…” he tried. “That’s big.”

Sarah frowned as she tugged her braid over one shoulder and chewed on the inside of her cheek. “You know as well as I do that the ACL pulled her out,” nodding in solidarity with a clearly disappointed Drake. “Joanna knew that someone younger and better would get recruited and they did.” Sarah’s shrug was barely visible, but Drake could see the sincerity it masked. His jaw clenched in response. He’d spent most of her physical recovery telling her that very thing wouldn’t happen, that she was still valuable, but unfortunately his words hadn’t meant anything in the end. She was pushed to the side in the game she loved and no matter how mad he was...part of him didn’t blame her for wanting to disappear. “Something else happened…” she mentioned and Drake’s eyes flew up, wide with concern, but Sarah simply shook her head. “She wouldn’t talk about it. I always kind of assumed you did something, but…” Sarah’s statement trailed off, the look on Drake’s face an indication that she’d been wrong in her assumption. Drake shook his. Figures, he scoffed internally. Something else pushed her away, but of course no one knew. Drake caught himself trying to pass the blame that was rightly his onto some mysterious event without even considering what it could be, without considering if she was okay, and the realization made him angry. Angrier than he’d ever been with himself. 

Sarah sighed and stood, slowly. “She left a key to a storage unit. Some of your stuff is probably in there with hers,” Sarah offered, trying to be helpful. Drake’s eyes were glued to his shoes, blood rushing through his ears and drowning out the sound of her voice as the distance between them grew and the fumbling sounds of Sarah rummaging through a drawer. He didn’t even glance up when the small key and a bright green tag dangled in his face. He didn’t need to look up because in his periphery, he could make out their names in black ink. Walker/Malone the tag read in Joanna’s neat writing and Drake felt sick. How could two names be so close when the people who bore them couldn’t be farther apart? 

“Drake,” Sarah urged with a sigh, jiggling the key to catch his attention again.

“I don’t want some fucking key,” he grunted, lifting himself from his seat and brushing the green tag away. Sarah tried again, but he wouldn’t hear it. He paced away from his friend, prompting her to sit back down with an exasperated sigh. Drake tried not to raise his voice, vaguely aware that Matt and his infant daughter were still there, just out of sight, but not out of earshot. “I don’t want a key...” he repeated through grit teeth, desperation and frustration blended the words into a nearly incoherent sentiment, but his next words he spoke with extreme care. “I want Malone.”

Sarah sucked her lips in, compassion and conflict in equal measure were written on her expression. “I don’t have anything else for you, Drake,” she answered honestly. He looked up to meet her eyes, already welled up and glassy with sympathetic tears. He could tell by the quake in her voice that their conversation was nearing its end and panic entered his chest. Sarah was his last connection to Joanna, his best shot at finding her and apologizing for missing everything that he promised not to that summer. He wouldn’t dream of contacting Nancy, both for Joanna’s preservation and his. He wasn’t convinced that Joanna would be keeping close contact with her mother anyways, especially if she got out of the country and finally out of her grasp. The girl was restless and dreamed of traveling, of seeing the world. Drake never doubted that one day she would and though he never told her, he always imagined himself with her when she finally did. He pictured her in Cordonia, boarding a train with him, only backpacks, smiles, and endless possibilities ahead of them. He wanted to take her to all the places he visited with Liam, experience them differently, the way a lowly commoner should, with next to nothing of substance, but everything that he needed. 

“You missed her,” Sarah said quietly, bringing Drake’s attention fully to her. “I dunno what else to tell you.”

Drake took a ragged breath and shook his head. “Tell me she still loves me,” he demanded, but the rough edge to his voice had worn off and it was obvious to both of them how badly he needed this answer. 

Sarah waited a few long seconds, staring at her old friend with a hollow sympathy that told him everything he needed to know before she spoke. “I can’t do that Drake,” she said and immediately his stomach dropped. “She left the country without any attachments so she could have an adventure,” Sarah sighed. “Just...just let her have this.”

Unacceptable fucking answer. 

Drake stormed out of his friends’ apartment without another word, ignoring Sarah’s half hearted pleas for him to return and forgoing the elevator in favor of sprinting down the three flights of stairs. Expelling a quick burst of energy wasn’t enough for Drake and he walked past his rental car without a second thought, every heavy step pulling him farther away from Sarah and her less than desirable news, toward the campus that brought him some of the best days of his life. Sometimes, Drake took quick and angry steps, kicking leaves and muttering every spiteful and selfish thought that passed through his head. Sometimes, they were slow sad steps, dragging his feet through memories that shouldn’t have died when they did. Though, those pitiful jaunts didn’t last very long. 

Drake hated how he must have looked to the passing students. They all seemed so young, so innocent… so annoying. The irony wasn’t lost on Drake as he realized that, had he made a different decision, or twelve, he would have been one of them. Rushing between buildings with his overloaded schedule because he would have surely denied Joanna’s persistent offers to help him consolidate it like he had every year, smiling broadly at the sight of his girlfriend from across the quad. He wouldn’t feel the need to rush over, say hello or otherwise draw attention to himself, knowing that he’d come home to her where there would be no curious coeds to worry about. In another life, his walk away from campus on a crisp fall day would be leading him home. In another life, Joanna would answer his texts, his calls. In another life, they wouldn’t have been on the same continent for God knows how long without him knowing, without him holding her, or being with her. As he slammed his car door shut and beat against the steering wheel, Drake felt completely out of options. 

It was a phone call from Liam that pulled him back to the present. The prince was clearly hoping for good news, hoping his own guilt would be assuaged by the excitable imagery of a tearful and long awaited reunion. Unfortunately for Liam, Drake didn’t have that kind of news to share. He answered the phone eventually, but he didn’t say anything beyond “I’m coming home,” before hanging up and speeding away from the apartment complex that brought him more questions than answers. 

---

The months that followed were confusing. Previously, everyone was worried about the increasingly reclusive Prince, who sustained severe emotional and physical trauma, but the wind had shifted. Through the holiday season, the younger generation of Palace dwellers turned their eyes upon a certain denim clad commoner, who’d taken to drinking in his room and brooding whenever he left the dark confines to mingle with his so called friends. Liam was well trained and able to school his features into princely ambivalence. Drake was...not and the lack of closure was weighing on him more than he should have let it. He knew that and as he trudged through the halls, avoiding eye contact with every staff member much like the nobles he claimed to hate, he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Drake…” Savannah scoffed as he slumped into a chair next to hers. “You stink.”

“Whatever,” he grunted, nodding thankfully as someone unseen poured a steaming mug of coffee and placed it down in front of him. 

Without invitation, Maxwell bounced into the seat on the other side of Savannah, chattering on about the upcoming Beaumont Bash. Now that everyone was adequately recovered from the Christmas Gala and the New Years Fling, Bertrand and Maxwell would be sparing no expense to squeeze in the much anticipated rager before the change in season and the spring social events that followed. 

Drake groaned at the thought, despite having indulged in the Beaumonts’ liquor stash as a teenager. As anticipated, Savannah’s eyes lit up at the informal, but eagerly awaited invitation. Drake glared at his sister out of the corner of his eye, purposefully ignoring the fact that she was no longer the child he left behind. She was nineteen now, legally an adult and making her own decisions without his input for going on four years now. It didn’t seem possible. If he had to do it again, Drake would have checked in on her more. Though, if he had to do everything all over again, there were more than a few more changes he would make. 

“It’ll be good for you, Drake,” Maxwell piped up, leaning around the younger Walker to eye his friend, who’d grown more aversive to mornings since returning after his impromptu trip to the states. “You need to let loose.”

“I don’t need to let anything loose,” Drake grumbled. 

“Fine, you need to get super drunk,” Maxwell adjusted his offer with a hopeful twinkle. 

Drake lifted his coffee mug to his lips and paused before taking a drink. “That...I can do.”

---

When Drake burst through the door of one of the Beaumont guest rooms at 6am, he collapsed gracelessly face first into the plush bed and fought against his own dead weight to pull a bright yellow feather boa from around his neck, nearly choking himself in the process as his chest barely lifted from the mattress. His head was pounding to the same relentless beat as the music that Maxwell insisted upon blaring all night, but just as his eyes were closing the loud ringing of his cellphone pulled a loud grunt from his throat that shook his eardrums and made him even angrier at himself. For the full volume ringer and for the sheer volume of champagne coursing through his veins. Sweet alcohol always went straight to his head and when Drake rolled over, colliding with the floor and yelling into the flat carpet, he swore to never drink anything with bubbles again. After crawling on his elbows across the room to the door, where his phone escaped his outturned pocket upon entry, the ringing stopped and Drake groaned again. The journey was meaningless and without checking the missed call, he crossed his arms under his head, a makeshift pillow against the hard floor, and closed his eyes to welcome the first moments of silence and peace since entering the Beaumont Estate nearly 20 hrs ago. 

Just as Drake felt the world slip away and sleep welcome him like a friend, the pounding exited his head and was now at his door. 

“The FUCK,” he called out without thinking and Savannah’s uncharacteristically small voice called back “forget it.” Then there was silence again. Sweet, sweet silence followed by sleep. 

Drake slept for nearly 12 hours that say, four of which were spent on the plush carpet in front of his bedroom door before he woke to neck pain and red eyes. It was a struggle to stand, but Drake finally made it to his bathroom to pluck out his contacts before he hauled his ass back into bed for another eight hours of uninterrupted peace. When he woke the second time, his vision was blurry, but his head had stopped the endless playlist of Maxwell Beaumont’s favorite dance tracks. And then, in the first moment of clarity he’d had in 24 hours, though it felt more like months, Drake made a decision. He sprung forth, paused to stabilize himself at the edge of the end, and then moved swiftly out the door. 

He pounded on Savannah’s door, a little harder than necessary, in hopes of repaying her for the headache she’d given him earlier. There was no answer and Drake flung his hands into the air before storming off again. “You’re missing out,” he muttered to her door and went to find the only person who could help him on his quest. 

“Bastien,” Drake sighed in relief upon finding the guard in a darkened room surrounded by computer screens. The black haired man had his back turned to Drake as he systematically eyed each screen, scrutinizing them to his own satisfaction before turning to address a young woman sitting in front of one of the consoles. 

“Mara, keep an eye on the garden,” he said quickly and received a clipped ‘yes sir’ in response before he took Drake by the shoulder and led him out of the room. 

The two of them stood in silence in the gilded hallway for more than a few seconds before Drake realized that Bastien wouldn’t be asking him anything until he knew what was going on. “I uh… I wanna go see Joanna,” Drake explained. 

“Not like this,” Bastien frowned as his eyes fell upon Drake’s disheveled appearance. 

“No, no, not right now, I mean maybe right now… no, not right now. By the way, have you seen Savannah?”

“No,” Bastien answered simply. 

“Right… Okay, I…” Drake paused to gather his thoughts, knowing that he probably still sounded drunk, when really, his plan wasn’t well thought out. Neither were honorable in Bastien’s sight and he didn’t want to embarrass himself more than he already had. “I need you to help me find her.” 

Drake proceeded to explain his situation. Joanna was in Berlin with an unknown international number that he was sure Sarah would not give him if he asked. He was convinced that if he could simply find her, she’d be willing to see him, to talk to him. He kept thinking back to the storage unit. The key that held both their names. If she really wanted separation, she could have thrown his things away or burned them or something. She held on to a part of him and kept a part of herself with it. That had to mean something. It simply had to. He didn’t disclose how much time he’d spent on her social media pages, scouring for any sign of another man, but that was surely already assumed. 

He was hopeful. For the first time in weeks, Drake was hopeful that he wouldn’t have to carry the dead weight of his own mistakes for much longer. He just needed to talk to her. Bastien made it clear that he was not in the business of stalking private citizens without just cause. She was no threat to the crown and in reality she wasn’t a threat to anybody. But at the dejected look on Drake’s face, Bastien made him an offer that Drake found more than fair. If Joanna crossed into Cordonia, even for a second, Bastien could keep the information trail alive and he promised to do whatever Drake asked, within reason, to make sure that he could speak with her. It was enough and Drake’s hope hadn’t waned at all. With how frequently she was travelling, not that he had any reason to know that, there would surely come a time when she came to Cordonia. He’d talked enough about it. Even if she was consciously avoiding a weekend in a country where the crown prince knew all about her, there was still a chance she’d pass through on her way to somewhere less tied her past. Drake just had to wait.

So he did. Drake waited. He bided his time and went about his days with less doom and gloom than previous months. Liam had convinced his father to postpone another social season. The opulence alone was enough to turn the citizens against the crown if they hastened into another and Liam secured his princely status for two more years. Drake knew that at least in part, Liam was hoping to find someone in that time so he could avoid the season all together. In the meantime, the friends had gained more time before everything changed. Though Drake was literally waiting for his life to change, he couldn’t be happier for Liam if he tried.  

But then. In a single hour, one month later, Drake’s life changed. Not the way he was expecting.

The call came, finally, and Drake flew down, down, down to meet Bastien. There was a train schedule pulled up on one screen, a list of passengers on another, and Joanna’s passport photo was there to greet him when he skid to a stop. Joanna was at that very moment on a train, that had just entered Cordonia on her way to Serbia. Weird, he thought to himself, but not out of the realm of possibilities. He loved her, including her ability to surprise him. And the way she could be an even bigger nerd than Liam without ever making him feel dumb or insignificant. 

“Final destination Istanbul,” Bastien informed him. That makes more sense, Drake sighed, relieved. “We know where she will be for the next ten hours. Brief stops in Belgrade and Sofia. Once she’s in Turkey we won’t be able to do anything,” Bastien’s voice was firm and choppy, like reading a dossier rather than a college student’s itinerary. Drake’s eyes danced between the screens, unsure which one to focus on, which piece of information was most helpful to him, but he always came back to the middle, where her subtle grin greeted him. “-but we can get you there first,” he heard Bastien say and all hope was restored.

“Really?” The image of a train station reunion was more than appealing. The smile on his face grew and grew as Drake started to back out of the room. 

“Drake-”

“I’ll be right back,” he assured Bastien. “We’re doing this.”

Drake sprinted through the Palace halls, ignoring the gasps of whoever he passed in favor of finding the one person he needed to tell. He reached the door and pounded on it. “Savannah!”

She’d taken the title of the broody Walker lately, spending the last two weeks “feeling sick” and avoiding everyone, though Drake always suspected she was avoiding someone specific. She’d always been easily embarrassed and after the Beaumont Bash, they all had things they were nursing their pride after. So, he didn’t push her on it, stopped in occasionally to make sure she was still alive, but otherwise let her be alone in her pity party. But Drake knew from personal experience that wallowing didn’t change anything, not that he would have listened to anyone who told him so. A family trip around Europe seemed like just what Savannah needed. A little time away from the Palace, from the people who made her feel like she wasn’t enough. Plus, she’d been more upset with him than Liam for leaving Joanna behind. Maybe in the process of winning back his girlfriend, he could score some big brother points back. If anyone was going to be there when he and Joanna finally saw each other, he wanted it to be his sister, so he knocked louder, harder, until his knuckles shook. 

No answer. He pulled his phone from his pocket and attempted to send three quick texts that refused to go through before he gave up and called. His heart stopped. 

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service, please hang up or check the number and dial again…” the message repeated itself in three more languages while Drake ran back through the Palace to his room to retrieve the key that he promised he wouldn’t use. He flung open her door and found it looking surprisingly like his. Tidy. Not at all like Savannah, who made her presence in any room abundantly clear. But there was no sight of her here. Drake flung open her wardrobe doors and found half of her clothes missing. He dropped to his hands and knees to inspect under her bed, but the unorganized box of important documents and family heirlooms was gone too. Not something she’d take for a short trip, regardless of where she was going. He stood again in a panic, searching the room for any sign of her, any indication of where she’d gone. Drake never suspected that he’d be rummaging through his sister’s trash, not when he was so close to getting back what he wanted. Then he found it.

“ITALY,” he burst through the doors and locked eyes with Bastien. “We have to go to Italy!”

“Drake… Joa-”

“Savannah is gone! She’s fucking gone and I think she’s going to Italy,” Drake gasped out, barely breathing after his third sprint through the Palace halls and under the weight of his anxiety. “I dunno why or how long, but...We...Bas, I have to-”

“I understand,” Bastien turned to the guards seated before computer screens and started barking out orders, taking the paper that was crumpled in Drake’s tight fist, eyeing the itinerary information and nodding. He leaned over the shoulder of one of the guards and reached down to remove Joanna’s information, clearing screen space and making room for the search for Savannah. 

“Wait-” Drake’s voice pulled Bastien’s attention back to the young man behind him. He was standing stock still, watching as page by page of information disappeared. Travel plans, a moving red line that was cutting through Cordonia, a time table in three different languages, until all that was left was Joanna’s passport photo. His eyes held hers for a moment longer as all the decisions before him started to come into view. 

East. Joanna. Happiness. West. Savannah. Family. 

“Drake…” Bastien said quietly coming to stand next to the young man, clearly lost in his thoughts. There in the air hung an unspoken question. Which one? There simply wasn’t time for both. Drake was one person and he couldn’t rightly send someone in his stead, to either. Decisions needed to be made. Drake swallowed hard, glancing to Joanna’s photo again, hoping that somehow she could help him with this one. He hadn’t really talked to her about coming to Cordonia and that haunted him. But when they did, her message was clear. Go. 

“Drake,” Bastien said again and Drake dragged his eyes from the screen to meet the grey ones of his mentor. 

Go.

“She’s never been to Italy before, so maybe she’s gonna stay there. Liam took me to Lake Como once and she never forgave me for leaving her here, but...I dunno, Bas, help me out here, where else could she be going?” 

Drake looked to Bastien with wide eyes and he understood. There would be no further discussion of the previous mission and the guard nodded graciously, closing out the last evidence that talk of passenger Joanna Malone had existed in that room. Bastien set to work, looking over paper that Drake had found. They were open ended plans, but it was starting place and these kids, they were family. 

“I have to find her,” Drake said resolutely and Bastien feared what would become of the young man if they did not.

had to literally dust off the post it with my tags

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