Page 30 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)
Syve
Syve was lying in bed, still dressed—shoes and all—from the night before, hugging a small green crocheted blanket when Aimi arrived.
Her friend had crept in well before sunrise, crawled onto the bed behind her, and held her tightly—brushing her tangled hair away from her face as Syve sobbed into her pillow.
The past week had gone by in a blur, with hardly any work getting done. It was impossible to focus on finishing anything when it took all of her strength to breathe. Still, at least this year, she planned to get out of bed. One could call that progress.
When her dehydrated body refused to cry any longer, Syve rolled off the bed and took a few steps to gently drape the blanket over the edge of the crib. She reached for Aimi, her hand paused on the crib, anchored there by a grief too heavy to lift.
Aimi gently ushered her into the bathroom, started the shower, and helped her out of her shoes and socks before slipping into the hall with a vow to return in a few minutes with coffee.
Syve didn’t step out of the shower until the water ran cold.
But when she did, she found a pile of clean clothes and a blissfully hot thermos full of coffee.
She forced herself to towel-dry her hair, got dressed, and then hugged the thermos close as she shuffled out to the living room—where Aimi waited on the couch with a brush and her favorite vampires playing baseball on TV.
A knock at the door came just as Aimi tied off the Dutch braid she’d woven into Syve’s hair. Cameron entered without a word and sat across from Aimi. The three of them sat in silence, curled up together, until the credits rolled.
“Alright love, the birthday boy is waiting for you.” Cam coaxed her friend off the couch and Aimi helped her into her boots, then they set out.
Syve lost count of how many times she wanted to turn around, but with Aimi and Cam on either side of her—linked arm-in-arm—she had the strength to continue. A few new tears fell down her cheeks, but her heart, though it ached, was warm.
The trio slowed when they drew near the marble angel. Bastien sat in the grass beside Noah’s headstone, one knee bent, propping up an arm while he toyed with something in his hands. She tore her gaze from his hands to find him assessing her.
Concern. Grief. Comfort.
That familiar storm brewed in his silver eyes—the same one that had always been there when they’d sat paw to hoof in this very spot.
But this time, when Syve sank to her knees before the granite, he reached out his hand and held hers.
They sat in silence for a while, her fingers curled around his. Then Bas gave her hand three gentle squeezes. She nearly protested when he let go—until he returned a moment later, holding something out to her.
The offering, a toy no bigger than her hand: a coal-black wolf with copper eyes.
Syve examined the small wolf for a moment, before tossing a questioning glance toward Bas. She recognized the wolf instantly, but the meaning behind it was lost to her.
Without a word, Bas shifted onto his knees, their thighs pressed together. He held his hand out. Syve placed the figurine into his palm and watched as he nestled the wolf into the grass, posed to howl—its back turned to the stone .
“Wherever they are…I hope this will help them find each other. I know he has his dad watching out for him, but maybe they can keep each other company while they wait for us,” Bas murmured.
Syve looked from the little wolf up into his misty eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
A choked sob reminded them Aimi and Cam were still behind them. Syve reached both hands behind her—one on either side—and, leaning into Bastien while holding the hands of her best friends, Syve led a tearful rendition of “Happy Birthday”.
“I asked her what she wanted, and she insisted on uni-puppies. Uni-puppies! Now I have to deliver and—shocker— uni-puppies aren’t a thing! So please, oh wonderful, brilliant, smart, beautiful brains—help me.”
On her knees, Cameron literally begged.
Bastien looked like he was about to cry from the effort he was putting into hiding his smile while Aimi literally rolled on the floor, in hysterics.
It was going to be a new tradition, but already it was becoming a favorite—after going to see Noah, the three regrouped at her loft to prep all the decorations for Kayla’s birthday party the following week.
Bastien, lucky as he was, volunteered to help before fully understanding what exactly he had signed up for.
So, there he was, sitting on the floor under a pile of paper, still slightly warm from the printer with a pair of scissors in hand—primed to cut out, God-only-knows, exactly how many dog bones and paw prints, because Cam insisted it would be recyclable and therefore ‘cooler than traditional confetti’.
She had a point.
Daunting as the pile seemed, the man had yet to complain.
Pouring her broken heart into creating smiles for Cam’s soon-to-be three-year-old helped keep Syve together. Odd as it was, sitting on the floor next to Bastien while he soldiered past paper cuts also soothed her.
When Cam informed him that attendance to the party was mandatory lest he incur the wrath of the birthday princess, he didn’t even balk—instead he assured her he would catch a ride with Syve, and refused to miss it for the world.
Another work week toiled past. Any free time Bastien had was spent on Syve’s sofa at Sew It Seams, tirelessly working on the uni-puppy confetti.
While he was battling hand cramps and dancing a fine-line with carpal tunnel, Syve was plugging along, having fully completed another piece for the grant submission.
Though they were working in parallel, she kept catching herself sneaking glances over her sewing machine. More than once, their eyes locked. She’d blush and silently scold herself—only to rinse-and-repeat all before another fifteen minutes could pass.
When the day of the party came, the birthday princess was very much looking forward to Bastien’s arrival and presented him with the title of ‘birthday knight’. The little girl forced him to wear a tiara and stand guard over her until she passed out on the couch in a cupcake-induced coma.