Page 10 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)
Bastien
Twelve hours later, he still didn’t know why he followed her home after all those nights he’d sat by her side, simply content to share her space and lend silent support. What made it worse was he hadn’t even tried to hide his light stalking, and she absolutely noticed.
Last night, he’d followed her to the alley where he sat silently, watching as she walked to a set of stairs as large snowflakes began to fall, quickly covering them both.
He averted his eyes when she started to shift, not sneaking a single glance.
Though he was desperate to know who she was and seeing another shifter bare was not uncommon—modesty was rare in large shifter-groups—that was usually in a consenting environment and not a creepy ‘I just followed you home’ one.
He remained long after he heard her bare feet crunching up the snow-covered stairs, her door squeaking open, then snicking shut. As the sun crept over the horizon, he stood, shook off a layer of snow, and bolted down the alley before padding up to her door.
Bas sniffed around the entire porch, peeked inside the window—the blinds surprisingly left open to reveal the tiny living room and most of the tiny kitchen.
What was he looking for? What was his plan?
What if she was still there, just inside the door and saw him?
A million questions flashed across his mind, not a single one with an answer.
“I think that spot is cleaner now than it has ever been.”
Bastien’s head snapped up, meeting Hal’s suspicious gaze before glancing back down toward the counter he had been very diligently wiping.
“Sorry, Boss. Got a little lost in my head,” Bastien replied, wincing as he threw the used rag at the laundry bin, missing by a few feet.
“A little?” Hal teased.
“Hey, are there people who live downtown? Down here? I mean, up there?” Bastien gestured toward the ceiling, a confused grimace spreading across his face.
Hal stared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised before laughing once and responding .
“There are a few shops that have apartments upstairs. The Glass has one,” he said pointing down the street.
“The post office, the bookstore, my seamstress, that nail salon…Oh! And that little Knick-knack shop Hattie just can’t stay out of!
” Hal listed each location, counting on his fingers as he went.
“Each one of them is lived in by the shopkeeper—except the post office, they made that one into an Airbnb a few years ago.”
“Hmm,” Bas mused. “I’m not sure how I didn’t know that already.”
“Honestly, I’m not surprised. It’s not like any of them are trying to advertise their home address.”
“Hold on, back up, did you say your seamstress?” Bastien asked incredulously. “You mean Hattie’s?”
“You heard me, Son! You don’t think I’ve been getting all these aprons and shirts from some big ol’ monopoly company, did you?
” Hal scolded, gesturing to the polo he was wearing with the shop’s logo on it.
“Syve’s been embroidering everything for me for years!
In fact, she’s the one who keeps fixing that damn jacket of yours every time you catch it on the meat-hooks. ”
“If you let me order the motor system, I wouldn’t have to shove the carcasses like a fuckin’ linebacker,” Bastien shot back, smiling as he threw his hands up.
Hal threw his head back, laughing. Shaking his head, he turned and walked down the hall toward his office.
“Always with the motor!”
An hour and a half on the road between Timberfall and Bozeman meant Bastien had ninety minutes of Taylor Swift and his sister’s off-key singing to survive before they’d arrive.
Timberfall was not a microscopic town. The number of tourists who passed through while visiting Yellowstone and the surrounding parks made sure of that, but it was not a grand metropolis either.
Aside from a few, very specific boutiques and second-hand shops, there was nowhere Delanira could go to purchase two fancy, evening gowns.
So, Bozeman it was.
The Jeep slowed to a stop as they pulled into a line of cars at the one toll booth unfortunately placed in their path.
While Bas refused to touch any of the money Dez left behind, he couldn’t bear to see the borderline obnoxiously large—and definitely obnoxiously lime green—vehicle sitting unused in the driveway.
The only thing Desiderio loved more than his family was his damned Jeep, and it showed in every accessory and modification he’d added to it.
So, Bas fully relinquished his Durango to Soriah and started driving ‘Fiona’ full-time.
Silence filled the cab when Del reached out one of her perfectly manicured fingers and turned off the radio. Bas choked on a groan, trying to ignore the burning sensation undoubtedly caused by his sister’s unwavering stare boring into the side of his head.
“I overheard you talking to Mom,” she stated, “about Hal’s.”
Bas continued to ignore her. He knew she was going to bring up something he did not want to talk about.
The line moved and he crept the Jeep forward.
“I agree with her, for what it’s worth,” Del murmured, a hint of sadness in her voice. Though still a child, she had already seen so much loss.
“Delanira,” he warned, the word carrying more weight beneath the surface.
Bas cut her a quick glance as he eased the car up the last few feet to the teller window.
Montana was one of very few states left that still employed people to operate their tolls opposed to the computer operated booths further east. Del huffed, crossed her arms and turned toward her window.
The accompanying eye roll was so excessive it could be felt from the driver’s seat without ever needing to be seen.
Bas paid the attendant, collected his receipt and urged the vehicle back onto the road, merging into the traffic with practiced ease.
Del continued to stare out the window even after her brother turned the radio back on, ‘Red’ playing just shy of too-loud from the speakers.
Six hours, four stores, and two food breaks later, Del had two new dresses hanging in the back, accompanied by two new pairs of shoes and a small bag of jewelry from a shop in the mall.
Bas had proved to be even less helpful than Soriah would have been.
Every dress the teen had tried on had been too short or too revealing, and Bas had not been afraid to voice his opinion.
The odds of Del ever asking either of her family members to go shopping with her ever again were very slim.
That night, Bastien sat in the mausoleum long enough to start and finish an entire book. After every chapter, he stood to check for his doe.
For the first time, she never appeared.