Page 21 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)

Syve

Syve stepped into the loft, then to the side to allow Bastien to enter.

She closed the door behind him, watching as he studied Erhard’s boots before deftly stepping around them.

Once he was securely past, he turned toward her, and Syve gasped as his legs seemed to give out beneath him.

He barely managed to catch himself against the washer, turning his face immediately toward the ground and covering his face with his free hand.

“Bastien?” She rushed to his side. “Are you okay?”

Worried, she placed a hand on his shoulder, ducking her head so she could see his face. He was taking slow deliberate breaths. Syve looked up, trying to figure out what had happened.

Then, she saw the massive thirty-six-inch canvas and deflated. Daily, literally daily, she saw the picture. She was so used to it, she didn’t even think about it anymore.

It was one of Erhard’s favorites—a beautiful span of trees and one ethereal, black wolf standing just inside the tree line. The wolf’s body blended in with the shadows in a haunting way while its bright, copper eyes all but bore into your soul.

Oh . Now she understood.

“Who is that?” Syve whispered.

Bas took a shuddering breath before muttering, “Brother. It’s my brother.”

Brother? She thought hard to remember their previous conversation.

“I thought you had a sister?” The question was soft, intending to cure her confusion without distressing him any further.

“I do have a sister, but I also had a brother. A twin.”

Had. That awful, horrid word she knew too well. He dropped his hand and finally raised his head, looking anywhere but at her or the photo. She reached out and smoothed the hair out of his eyes, not realizing she was doing it until he stilled, slowly turning his head to look at her.

Fingers still pressed to his temple she spoke softly. “I’m so sorry, Bastien. ”

His throat bobbed and they remained transfixed on each other.

In her periphery, the sight of twisted, faded black ink coiling around her finger registered—and she dropped her hand as if burned. “I don’t really want to talk about him,” he croaked out, as he straightened himself and faced the dryer.

She supposed she could understand that.

“But...” He cleared his throat. “Where? Where did you get this?” How the tables had turned.

“My husband—” She curled her lips between her teeth, noticing as his eyes grew wide, “My husband is, or rather, was a photographer.”

She exhaled a shaky breath, one side of her mouth pulling up into a forced smile for half a second.

Bastien’s shocked expression immediately morphed to one she was all too familiar with seeing.

Pity.

“Syve.” Her name came out in a breath.

She hated that look—like she was broken. Though she could not argue against it.

“I don’t really want to talk about him.” She parroted his words then swiftly stepped past him, pulling open the door to the living room. “If you want the picture, it’s yours. Living room’s right through here.”

She left him standing there and made her way to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder as she went, “I have water, wine and coffee. Want anything? ”

She almost felt bad about walking away, but it seemed like neither of them wanted to continue that conversation.

“Water would be great, thank you.” His answer preceded the soft click of the laundry room door closing.

A few minutes later, they were sitting on either end of the couch, each holding a glass of water.

“I’m sorry about last night, I got caught up with some stuff at home…I didn’t mean to stand you up—I said I would be there, and I wasn’t. I don’t like going back on my word, I swear it won’t happen again.” Bastien met her gaze with a surprising level of guilt written across his features.

“Oh, no, please. Don’t feel bad, you’re fine. I honestly…I’m pretty certain I just slept last night. I don’t think I…you know.”

It was weird for her to sleep dreamlessly. Waking up with socks still on her sweaty feet, right where she put them before bed, had been all the proof she needed to know she had never left her bed unawares.

“Really? Bambi, that’s great! I mean, I’m glad—you’ll be able to sleep better now, I hope. Maybe knowing is enough to keep you from sleep-shifting.”

She agreed and an awkward silence fell over them.

“So,” Syve said as Bas took a drink, “Do I like…need to start planning around full moons now?”

He choked, coughing on the water and a mouthful dribbled down his shirt .

“Sorry,” he laughed, wiping his short beard with his hand then drying his hand on his jeans. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”

“Sure, sounds like it.” Syve pouted. “It’s not my fault I don’t know anything.”

She crossed her arms, dejected.

“I’m sorry, I really should have seen that one coming.

No, you don’t need to worry about lunar interference.

All the stereotypes you see in books and movies are mostly false rumors spread by shifters to help keep us hidden.

There are a couple books that have a few things right…

” He trailed off then shook his head like he was trying to force himself back on track.

“Alright, then I guess I can assume I’m not at risk of turning the entire town into deer by accidentally biting them?”

“Do you usually make a habit out of biting the townsfolk?”

Smart ass .

“Yes, I obviously go around biting everyone I meet as a form of greeting,” she deadpanned, and he laughed.

“Just making sure I don’t need to watch my back around you.”

“You’re not worried about your front?”

What the hell was wrong with her ? Was she flirting with him? Her stomach turned.

He opened his mouth to respond, studied her a moment and then seemed to change his mind. Instead, he set his glass on the coffee table and leaned back, throwing one arm over the back of the couch while the other rested in his lap.

“Can I ask a question now?” he finally said.

She nodded, angling her body toward him and tucking her legs under her.

“How did you and Aimi meet?”

“Oh.” The only other person to ever ask her that was E. “We met in college. She’s wicked smart—she also got her BA in business, so we had some classes together. She’s actually three years younger than me.”

Bastien tilted his head to the side, eyes wide, shocked. Not that she could blame him, it had shocked her too.

She had been sitting in her first college class, a month away from her eighteenth birthday, when Aimi had bounced into the room and taken the seat next to her.

“Hi! I’m Aimi, and we’re meant to be best friends.”

Syve blinked at the literal child sitting next to her.

“Oh—guess I should explain instead of sounding like a complete psycho. You and I are the only two people in the entire class with pigtails. Kismet.”

“She seems like a good friend.”

“The best. She’s my anchor—she’s kept me from drifting, on more than one occasion. I can’t imagine life without her.” She sat up a little straighter. “That reminds me, I obviously talked to Aimi after you left last night…”

Bastien crossed his arms. “I’m not going to like what you say next, am I? ”

“Yeah, probably not. She knows everything.”

“Everything? As in…” He pointed at himself, then to her and back again. “ Everything , everything?”

“ Everything .” She grimaced. “I told you she was smart! She’s basically a genius and she had most of it figured out before we even got back here.”

“How did she figure out my part of it?”

“You don’t think it’s weird for a dude to randomly chase a deer into the woods and start talking to it?

You were acting pretty chill for a dude who just spent the afternoon being waterboarded with the paranormal—and who stashes clothes in an abandoned crypt?

She knew about the dreams.” She made air quotes.

“She did the math—it wasn’t exactly calculus. Though, she actually called you a dog.”

Syve covered her mouth to hide her smile, while Bastien placed a hand to his chest, feigning offense.

The two continued talking about everything and nothing in particular, stopping just long enough for Syve to order take out—explaining her kitchen was basically just for show because she was an awful cook.

When Syve started yawning, Bastien glanced at his watch and winced.

“It’s one in the morning.”

Yawning again she nodded. “That explains why I’m fighting for my life to stay awake over here.” She rubbed her eyes with her palms.

“I should go. You should get some sleep. ”

Syve hummed in agreement, and he stood up. “I’ll…talk to you later?”

Syve yawned yet again, wanting to walk him to the door but lacking the energy to extract herself from the cushions. “Later, yes.”

He smiled at her and bid her goodnight. Fumbling with the doorknob, he slipped out into the early morning air and pulled the door closed with a soft click. He’d made sure it was locked behind him.

She marveled at how considerate the action was, nuzzling deeper into the couch before sleep finally took her.