Page 20 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)

Bastien

If he was a lesser man he would have called in sick.

After coming home and finding Cyrus in his kitchen, Bastien had gotten next to no sleep.

His brother’s old roommate talked his ear off long after Soriah had gone to bed, explaining how he was visiting Timberfall for a business trip with the interest of possibly relocating.

Apparently, he’d had enough of the East Coast and was looking for ‘new stomping grounds.’ By the time Bastien finally convinced the man to call it a night, it was already after three in the morning.

Bas wanted to keep his word to Syve, to go sit with her again, but it was late enough that she would have returned home and he was too tired to even think about shifting. He barely managed to slip out of his jeans before face planting horizontally across his queen-sized bed.

An hour after his feet initially hit the floor, Bastien was walking down the sidewalk to The Glass Half Full.

He’d almost considered skipping the coffee shop in favor of Hal’s worn-out Keurig, just so he could avoid an awkward confrontation with the town’s favorite barista.

Alas, there was not a drip coffee on Earth that would keep him on his feet after only three hours of sleep, so awkward confrontation it was.

Luck seemed to be on his side when he lumbered into the cafe amidst the busy morning rush.

His order was taken by the only other employee he’d ever seen behind the counter, Toni, according to her name tag, who smelt like Woodstock but couldn’t be a day over twenty.

When he caught Aimi’s eye as he was collecting his order, she let him know she was watching him, pointing two fingers at her eyes and then pointing them at him.

Message received, loud and clear. He smiled back nervously and shot her a two-finger salute .

Bastien’s mood improved when he got to work and remembered it was processing day. It didn’t matter how exhausted he was, processing day was still his favorite.

When he slid into Hal’s office, making a show of presenting the man with a freshly procured Elvis—because nothing says “sorry I bailed on you yesterday” like peanut butter and banana—he was met with a warm laugh and Hal rustling his hair before they set out for the carving room.

When they broke for lunch Bastien checked his phone and found six messages from Syve which he hastily replied to.

Syve:

Hey, can you come over tonight?

I mean, do you want to come over tonight?

To talk or whatever, in case that wasn’t clear

Because I didn’t specify

Let me try that again

Hey, I don’t have anything going on tonight, if you’re free would you want to come over so we could talk more?

Bas:

That works for me, sorry it took so long to reply, it’s been a busy morning. I can walk over after work?

Syve:

Yeah, of course. I’ll leave the front door unlocked; I’ve got this project I really need to work on so I’ll be downstairs.

Bas:

Okay, cool. See you around six-ish

Syve:

Six-ish is great

Bastien looked at his watch, 1:00 p.m. Great, he only needed to stay focused for another five hours. Just as he was going to slip his phone back in his pocket it lit up with a call. Cyrus. He groaned, rolled his neck, then answered.

“Yeah.”

“Damn, you’re just a ball of fucking sunshine, aren’t you?” Bas could hear his smile through the phone.

“Just busy, Cy. I’m assuming you need something?”

“Yeah, north, south, east, or west?”

Bastien blinked a few times before asking, “What?”

“I’m feeling pent up, gotta burn off some energy. Which way would you go? ”

Understanding registered.

“Doesn’t matter around here, really. I usually go west. Just be careful if you go south, lots of tourists with cameras. The entire town is surrounded by National Forest, so it’s mostly safe.”

Cyrus grunted an acknowledgment on the other end of the line.

“Oh, and Cy?”

With the most mocking tone he could have possibly mustered, Cyrus said, “Eyes up, watch your back, don’t be stupid, stay out of the open—” then his tone changed, suddenly serious. “I know.” And then he abruptly hung up.

Bastien sighed and pocketed his phone.

Of course he knew.

Without exposing their secret to the world, there was no way they could have told any non-shifter that Dez had been murdered, since he had been shot in wolf form. But, if there was anyone in the world who could understand the pain it caused the Yerovi’s, it was Cyrus.

Cyrus, who had been Dez’ roommate since freshman year of college.

Cyrus, who paid for an entire kitchen renovation for Mama for her birthday.

Cyrus, who never forgot to send a present for every single one of Delanira’s birthdays .

Cyrus understood because he knew and he knew, because he came from an ancient line of bear shifters—he was one of them.

Bastien physically ran out the door after closing up, not slowing until he turned the corner and put Sew It Seams in his sights.

Silently, the door pushed open, surprising him. He expected a bell of some kind. He eased the door shut behind him and stuffed his hands in his pockets, taking a moment to catalog the business.

Multicolored walls with black and white photos hung all about and in the center of the room sat possibly the single largest worktable he had ever seen.

It was not until his second pass over the massive island and the mountains of fabric it held, that he even noticed Syve.

She was hunched over at the far end, barely visible amongst the neatly folded piles, auburn hair amassed in a haphazard blob on top her head which was ducked low, putting her at eye level with her hands as she deftly stuck pin after pin into what looked to be a small jacket.

This was a side of her he had not yet seen—having only seen her previously in some level of distress. What he saw now was a woman consumed with her craft and she was, without question, breathtaking .

The thought was so sudden it sent him staggering back a step.

He had not been so blind as to miss her allure from the first moment he had seen her that day at The Glass, but he’d been so focused on the grief she wore—so thick you could feel its caress just by standing close—he hadn’t taken the time to reflect on it.

Syve stuck one more pin into her work with a flourish and sank back into her chair, an accomplished sigh slipping from her lips.

He chose that moment to break the silence.

“What are you working on, Bambi?”

She startled violently, cursing.

“Dammit all, Bastien! You scared the hell out of me!” She groaned, stretching as she stood and setting her work down on the counter in front of her. “Do that again and you’ll be getting one of those bell collars they put on cats!”

Bas raised his eyebrows. “You want to put a collar on me? That’s a little forward, don’t you think?”

Syve gaped at him, cheeks flushing.

He let her flounder a second longer before saying, “Relax, Bambi, it was a joke. What are you working on?”

After she recovered, she responded, “Oh, just some stuff. I won’t bore you with it—”

He cut her off. “It’s not a bore to me. Besides, I did ask.”

With a shrug he stepped closer. It bothered him that she was so quick to dismiss something she was so passionate about .

“Well…if you insist.” She eyed him then, no doubt trying to determine if he was being sincere. “You can hang your coat on the rack there, unless you’re cold.” She pointed just over his shoulder. “I’ve been keeping it a little chilly in here out of spite and I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”

Eyebrow raised he asked, “You’ve been keeping it cold…out of spite? For who? Your heater?”

She flinched, recovering so quickly he almost missed it. Odd. He would need to circle back to that later.

“It’s kind of a long story, actually. Anyway, come over here if you’re serious and I’ll show you what I’ve got going on. I’m really proud of this one.”

Again, she abruptly changed the subject. She was good at that. He let it be, choosing instead to relinquish his jacket to the rack before making his way over to her.

Upon closer inspection he was able to make out several articles of clothing in various states of repair—or, assembly, he supposed. In the center of the island was a pair of pants, beside it a dress, clearly meant for a child, and what was possibly the bones of a loose-fitting shirt.

“All of these pieces are part of a clothing line I designed myself a few years ago.” She gestured an arm over the collection.

“Aimi—my best friend, the one you met—she found out about this grant the state is offering. If I can convince them I’m worth it, the money and support could help me launch this line.

It would be huge. I could really use it to keep the shop open and honestly…

I’ve been dreaming of being a household brand. ” She looked wistful.

“How long do you have to apply?”

“I already applied, but I have to submit a final business plan and give a presentation in August.”

“That seems like plenty of time to get everything finished?”

“Oh, absolutely. It helps that I was able to start on the pieces right away. I already had an entire book worth of designs. The hardest part was narrowing it down to only ten pieces to present.” She smiled then, a true smile, brilliant and disarming.

“Incredible,” he breathed.

She nodded, agreeing while looking over her work, but he was not referring to the clothing at all.

“Well, I can pick this back up tomorrow. I figured I could pluck away at it while I waited for you. I just need to close up and we can head upstairs—if that’s okay with you?

We can absolutely stay down here if not.

I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or anything, but also, I’m just inviting you to the better couch, not my bed… ”

His lips quirked up to one side as he dropped his head down, looking up at her through his lashes.

“I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

Bas chuckled as she puffed her flushed cheeks full of air, nodding sharply and stepping past him. He was almost certain he heard her mumbling something about sounding like an idiot as she closed the blinds and locked the door, the latter seeming to require a bit of effort.

“I’m locking this so no one just wanders in, I promise I’m not like, locking you in for nefarious...”

He waved her off, chuckling again.

“Honestly, Bambi, I don’t think I would mind if you were.”

She scoffed, or maybe it was a laugh, and leveled him with a look which led him to believe she thought he was joking. Only, he was pretty sure he was not.

“Is that going to be a thing now?” she asked.

“What?”

“Bambi?”

“Why? Do you hate it?” He searched her face, if she really didn’t like the nickname, he would immediately forget it ever existed.

She grumbled something he wasn’t able to catch before she answered aloud, “I wouldn’t say I hate it. It’s just a bit…” She cringed and tapped a finger to her nose. “On the nose, don’t you think?”

He laughed again, something he found she was getting him to do often.

“What? Because you’re both small and cute?”

Another scoff. No, he was almost certain now it was just an awkward, surprised laugh. Why did he find that endearing ?

She started toward him. “Okay, all done. We can go up now.”

Bas turned to the side, gesturing with a sweeping motion for her to lead the way.

The stairs were tucked in the back corner; he had truly overlooked them at first. The stairwell was narrow, his elbows almost reaching either side as he walked with his hands in his pockets. At the top was a simple door, as much as you could call a door covered in little blue flowers simple.

Syve paused with a hand on the doorknob and glanced over her shoulder. “My other best friend, Cameron. She paints.” She shrugged a shoulder, then turned back and opened the door.

Following at her heel, Bastien stepped into a small laundry room; the space was just large enough for a washer and dryer on one wall with a small open cabinet housing her detergent and what looked like extra linens.

He hesitated when he came toe to toe with a pair of worn boots that were at least five sizes too big to be Syve’s, the amount of dust gathered across the laces a testament of their importance to that particular square tile.

He gingerly stepped around the footwear-shrine, intending to ask Syve about them later.

But, when he looked up, his eyes caught on a canvas hanging on the wall beside her.

It was similar to the ones downstairs, but this one was in full color.

Bastien felt as if the rug had been jerked out from under him.