Page 17 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)

Syve

“Was. She was.” Syve stared down at her hands, mindlessly picking at her nails while she waited for the pity that always came after telling people she was an orphan.

She had referred to her father in past tense earlier and he either missed it or hadn’t deemed it important enough to comment on. Honestly, she was happy either way. But this? Now he would have to acknowledge it, and she hated this part.

“When did you lose them?” His voice was soft, hesitant even. “You know what, don’t answer that. Unless you want to—but I get it if you don’t.”

It hit her then. She’d been so caught up in her own bullshit—while he hadn’t said anything when she talked about her dad, she hadn’t said anything when he mentioned his dad in past tense either.

He was just following her lead.

“When I was ten. Car accident,” she whispered. “You?”

Bas’s face shifted from despair to surprise, then back, as if he was not expecting the question.

“My Father? Seven years ago. Cancer.”

Syve sucked in a sharp breath before she could think better of it, then grimaced.

“I’m so sorry, Bastien.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He cleared his throat. “But my mom is still around. I ended up moving back in after Pops passed so she didn’t have to get a job.” He huffed a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I’m a real Momma’s boy.”

Someone else must have snuck into the mausoleum while they were not looking. There was no other way to explain the hand that just punched its way into her chest, grabbed her heart, and squeezed. Syve pinched her eyes shut and fought the urge to scream—to scream and scream and scream.

Momma’s boy.

Momma’s boy, Momma’s boy, Momma’s boy.

“Noah, don’t you want to come see Dada? I know you’re Momma’s boy, but Dada loves you too!”

“Syve? Are you okay?”

“No. But we’re not talking about it. ”

He nodded in understanding. “How do you know all this about your parents and have no idea you’re also a shifter?” Zero hesitation. Zero questions. New subject.

Syve could have kissed the man for not pushing it.

Her stomach roiled, sick with herself for even thinking she could kiss this man—she was married . A second fist clamped around her heart.

“A journal.” She all but gasped, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath.

“My Mom, she kept these journals, and I just found them. I was reading an entry this morning where she admitted to being a shifter. It was the last entry before…” She trailed off, sucking her lips into her mouth and releasing them with a pop.

“Anyway, I read that and kinda had a panic attack, I guess. It’s a little fuzzy between there and when you found me—which never would have happened if Aimi hadn’t opened my door for me…

OH MY GOD!” She squealed, eyes nearly popping out of her head as she threw her hands over her mouth.

“My best friend, Aimi! She was at my house! I never called her back! She came looking for me—she’s going to be pissed! I have to go! I don’t have my phone—”

She was speaking a million miles a minute, patting her pockets and looking around for who even knows what—it was not like she had anything with her.

Why did she not have anything with her? Where was her phone—her clothes, for that matter?

She had a thousand more questions, but they would have to wait .

“Whoa, wait! Hold up! Does she know? Does your friend know?” Bastien asked.

He’d stepped closer while she was spinning in circles. There were still pine needles in his hair. Syve just stared at him, taking in his frantic expression.

“Yes? I mean…no? Not exactly? I’ve told her about the dreams before and she was at my house—she’s the one that opened the door and let me out.

Oh my god, she’s going to kill me—I honestly don’t remember when she showed up, it’s a little…

hazy. I guess she could have been there before I,” she gestured wildly at herself. “Went all Animorph.”

He rubbed both of his eyes with his palms.

“Okay, listen. If she doesn’t know you cannot tell her, do you hear me? You have to keep this a secret, no one can know. It’s—”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s too dangerous. Telling people could get you killed.

I got that from the journals. I really have to go.

” She started for the door as Bastien exhaled with a nod.

“But what if she already figured it out? I left the journal on my kitchen table for god’s sake, she could have read that by now—especially if she’s trying to figure out where I am, or what happened to me. ”

She stopped when she reached the door, looking back at Bastien who still stood in the middle of the tomb with dirty feet and twiggy hair.

He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor as if the cracks in the concrete would spell out directions for how he should proceed.

The action brought Syve’s attention to a large scar running down to his collarbone. Maybe she could ask about it next time.

Next time ?

“Well, first things first. I guess we need to get you home, and then damage control,” he finally said.

“We?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Well…I figured you had more questions, but I can just give you my number or whatever and we can talk more later. If you want, that is…Can I at least walk you home?”

He was right, she did have more questions.

Whether she wanted to discuss them all tonight or not was yet to be determined.

Like he said, however, first things first, she needed to go home.

She needed to let Aimi know she was okay and apologize for disappearing.

It was a rule, she was never allowed to ghost her best friend, and she had broken it.

So, Syve agreed to Bastien walking her home, even though it was literally across the street. It was obvious he was worried about her, though she was still not exactly sure why.

They were silent the entire walk, aside from Bastien apologizing for not having shoes for her and offering her his boots—ones that had apparently been sitting outside the door of the mausoleum.

Sure, it was cold, but she had assured him that she was sure she could walk fifty yards bare foot just fine, she would be making a bee-line for her fuzzy socks as soon as she was done groveling to Aimi.

Loud voices reached them as they made their way down the alley .

“What the hell do you mean she’s just gone ? What kind of best friend are you if you don’t know where she is?!”

Shit.

“Excuse the fuck out of me! I don’t own her; I’m not tracking her every move! I. Don’t. Know. Where. She. Is! There is literally no other reason in the world I would ever call you otherwise!”

Double shit.

Syve knew if she didn’t intervene soon, the probability of Aimi beating Gunther’s ass was incredibly high.

“Goes both ways, Sugar. We both know I only put up with you for her sake.”

Bastien tossed her a curious glance that she ignored. They didn’t have time for her to warn him about what they were walking into. Hopefully he could roll with it, but if not? He was the one who insisted on walking her home.

Syve took the stairs up to her loft two at a time with Bas hot on her heels, the door was wide open.

Aimi and Gunther must have heard her coming, they both turned toward her the second she stepped in the door.

Aimi blinked at her for all of five seconds, eyebrows in her hairline, before she closed the gap between them and slapped Syve right across the face.

Bastien let out a startled curse behind her, but she herself was not shocked. In fact, she had expected worse.

“You’d better have the best fucking excuse for…

” Aimi trailed off as she took in Syve’s appearance before doing a double take over her shoulder at Bastien.

“Nice outfit. That ad ds about seven questions to the ridiculously long list I’ve made.

I hope like hell you have answers for me woman or so help me—” Aimi took a deep breath, let it go and then said, “Spill.”

“We’re both entirely too sober for this.” Syve grimaced, then turned toward Gunther who was now standing next to Bastien.

“Thanks, man, for bringing my girl home.”

Syve rolled her eyes and Aimi groaned. This fucking guy.