Page 25 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)

Syve

Six pieces done.

Syve only had four pieces to finish and a presentation to plan. She still had four months until the deadline to submit—she could do this.

Midway through attaching a sleeve to a shirt that she started that morning, her phone rang, the picture of Bastien with the ducklings filling the screen.

“Hello?” She held the phone between her ear and her shoulder and resumed her stitches, running the sewing machine a little slower so she could hear him speaking on the other end.

“Hey, Bambi. I know you’re working, but my little sister’s prom dress is…broken?”

He paused as there was frantic yelling in the background.

“I’m sorry, not broken, Del accidentally burnt it with her curling iron and she’s freaking out. Is there any chance—”

“When does she need to leave the house?”

He repeated the question—she assumed to his sister.

“She needs to ‘be walking out of this house at five exactly or my social life is toast’,” he quoted dramatically.

“You do know how fragile a teen girl’s social life is, right?” Syve chuckled. “Send me your address—I’ll leave now and see what I can do.”

She heard him repeat this for his sister, who in turn began screaming thank you.

Five minutes later, she had everything shut off and locked up in the shop and was bolting up the stairs to get her truck keys.

Syve dashed through the laundry room, skidded to a halt then walked backward, stopping directly in front of the canvas of Desiderio. She considered it for five whole seconds before she pulled it off the wall and took it with her.

Erhard’s Chevy whined its way down the street—no doubt from disuse and poor maintenance. It was bigger than she needed, not that she drove much anyway, but she didn’t have the heart to get rid of it.

When practicality said she should get rid of one of the cars, there was no hesitation before she handed over the keys to her hatchback.

Changing oil, rotating tires, replacing wiper blades—these were all things she knew had to be done, but Erhard had always taken care of it.

Add ‘get the truck checked’ to her ever-growing list of shit that had to be done.

Syve pulled up in front of Bastien’s house, putting the truck into park behind a very expensive-looking white Range Rover.

She had just barely stepped out—slamming the driver’s door with both arms (because anything less never actually closed it)—when a short-haired teenage girl came barreling out the front door and straight toward her.

“Oh my God, thank you for coming! You’re the best, please help me!” she sobbed as she collapsed into Syve’s arms.

“Hi! Don’t thank me yet—” Syve returned the hug and tucked one of Del’s curls behind her ear as she pulled away. “Let’s go see what we can do about that dress first, yeah?”

Del nodded violently then snagged Syve’s hand and dragged her across the yard and into the house.

Bastien was leaning against a doorframe across from the entryway when they stepped inside, an apologetic look on his face. Syve assumed it was for his sister—until she heard clanging coming from the room behind him.

“ Mijo ! Is that her? Is she here?”

An older woman with perfectly white hair braided down to her waist came around the corner wiping her hands on her black apron. She looked first at Bastien then turned to the door where Syve stood, hand in hand with Del.

“Mama, this is Syve. Syve, this is my mom, Soriah. ”

Soriah tsked and swatted her son.

“ Mija, you can call me Mama, like everyone else. Please, come in, come in!”

She mumbled something else in Spanish as she turned and walked back through the doorway she had first appeared from. Bastien pushed off the wall quickly and stepped over to her, gesturing he wanted to help her out of her jacket.

Del let Syve step out of her untied boots before dragging her along after Soriah. The room was separated by a long island; to the left was a plain wooden dining table surrounded by an entire wall of waist high bookshelves, the rest of the wall covered entirely with pictures.

One picture in particular caught Syve’s attention, an eight by ten portrait of a family of five—a mother, father, two teen boys and between them a tiny infant girl swathed in pink tulle.

Syve stepped closer, immediately distinguishing Bastien from his twin; Bastien looked so much like Soriah, with his sharp chin and silver eyes, while his brother looked so much more like their father with his strong, square jaw and copper eyes.

Syve smiled softly as she wrote the missing Yerovi men’s faces to memory, so she could picture them when Bas spoke of them later.

To the right of the island was the kitchen—if you could even call it that.

Calling the room a mere kitchen would be like calling the Library of Alexandria a mere library.

A six burner stove sat beside a double oven, and across from them was one of the largest refrigerators Syve had ever seen.

The counters were lined with appliances she couldn’t even name, and she’d bet money the door at the far end of the room led to an equally impressive pantry.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Mama likes to cook.” Del shrugged like it was no big deal.

“I will make some food; you girls go ahead. I’ll put this one to work so he stays out of the way.”

Soriah smiled and winked, gesturing to her son who uncrossed his arms, putting his palms up in a clear ‘what did I do?’

Syve was barely able to say thank you before Del was, for the third time, dragging her through the house. They had just reached the top of the stairs when a man stepped out in front of them, Del jumped gracefully to the side just in time to miss a collision.

Syve did not.

“Whoa, sugar. Where’s the fire?”

One look was enough for her to confirm that the man before her must be the family friend and the asshole that Aimi had mentioned.

“Has to be a fire, cuz damn. You’re hot.” He winked.

Yep, definitely the asshole.

“Cyrus,” Del whined. “Don’t be gross! Why don’t you go do something helpful? Like…I don’t know…go outside or something? ”

“Actually,” Syve interrupted. “I could use your help. I have a box in the back seat of my truck—I need it to fix the dress. Would you be willing to bring it in for me?”

She honestly expected him to scoff and deny her, so she was surprised when he dropped into a dramatic bow and then set off down the stairs two at a time. It was not until she heard the front door close behind him she remembered the canvas that was also occupying her backseat.

“You okay?” Del asked.

“Um, yeah. I just…Bas can handle it, I think. Show me this dress.”

Syve hoped Bastien would forgive her for bringing the picture over. She intended to cover it with one of the spare blankets she kept in the backseat and then give Bastien the option to put it in a closet or something. It belonged in his house, not hers.

Del’s dress was beautiful. Rich, cobalt blue satin draped to the floor, a stunning mermaid silhouette with one thick strap over her left shoulder.

Syve winced, the strap had a very large burn across it, large enough she wondered how the girl had managed to do it without completely burning herself in the process.

“How attached are you to this dress having a strap?”

Del hesitated, “I’m not, but the school dress code for formal dances demands at least one, or I’ll have to wear a shawl all night. ”

Syve rolled her eyes. “Of course they do. Okay. I can fix this; I just need you to trust me.”

Del nodded with tears in her eyes.

There was a knock at the door and Syve turned to see Bastien standing in the doorway with her emergency sewing kit in his arms. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

“It’s okay, Bambi. Cyrus is having a…moment…but Mama stepped in when she saw it. She just made him hang it up in the kitchen.”

He stepped into the room and set the box on the bed next to her.

“Thank you,” he added.

“I know you said you didn’t want it but—”

Bas shook his head.

“Mama is really happy to have it, and I shouldn’t have been so quick to turn you down. It’s just…hard.”

He didn’t need to explain any more, she understood.

“What are you talking about?” Del interjected. “What did Mama hang in the kitchen? Why are you being weird?”

“Don’t worry about it, Del, I’ll show you later. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for some dance or something?”

“Some dance?” she screeched.

Bas winked at Syve over his sister’s shoulder and slipped out of the room.

Syve was sipping on some of the best hot chocolate she had ever had, sitting with one knee up to her chest on a barstool at the island in Soriah’s kitchen.

Bastien was right, Desiderio’s wolf form watched from his new spot on the wall next to the probably-a-pantry.

Soriah had pulled her into a rib crushing hug when she had gone back downstairs, thanking her once in Spanish and twice in English.

She then insisted on making cocoa, despite Bastien’s grumbling.

Soriah had leveled a look at him that could surely end wars and he shut his mouth so fast his teeth clicked.

They were alone now. After pouring the cocoa for Syve, his mother had kissed her on the cheek, told her she was always welcome in her home, then left the room—a mug of cocoa in one hand and a worn paperback in the other.

“That was amazing, what you did for Del. Thank you again for coming over.” Bas said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Syve thought calling it amazing was being a little generous. All she had done was cut off the burnt strap and replaced it with seven strands of silver ribbon, braiding an inch of each ribbon to the ones next to it to create a honeycomb effect .

Del had been thrilled, and on time. That was all that mattered.

“Happy to help.” She smiled and took another sip.

“You wanna go for a run?” Bas blurted.

Syve blinked up at him, then furrowed her brows. “A…run?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder and looked away. “I haven’t been out in a while and I’m feeling a little antsy. I wonder if you might feel the same?”