Page 39 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)
Bastien
Consciousness returned to Bastien the same way sunlight returned with the dawn. Slowly he became aware of a dull ache in his side, triggering memories that steamrolled through his mind—a film he couldn’t pause and leave unfinished.
A gentle weight bore down on him; one he could not place. Puzzled, he opened his eyes, blinking until her face came into focus.
Syve .
She was asleep, the weight he felt was nothing more than her leg stretching over him, her fingers twitching against his chest while she dozed. The door opened, only the sound of the wood dragging across the carpet giving the action away at all.
Tears welled in her eyes when his mother noticed he was watching her, awake at last. Bastien quickly placed a finger to his lips, glancing down toward the woman nestled against him. Soriah smiled softly and whispered something about food before ducking back out into the hall.
Bastien replaced his attention to Syve. The skin around her eyes was dark, her brows creased, even though she was snoring softly. She looked as though sleep took her, not by choice, but necessity.
Unable to refrain, he reached out to smooth the tangled mess of auburn hair haloed about her. Hazel eyes blinked open before he even reached her neck.
Just as he had sworn, Cyrus had not left Bas’ side for even a second after Syve left. Not even after helping Bastien out of the bed and to the bathroom to relieve himself.
“Cy, goddammit, I can piss on my own!”
“I am nothing, if not a man of my word, Pup. By your side means by your side,” Cyrus said to the door. He shrugged, throwing his hands in the air. “Keep bitching and I’ll turn back around. At least I’m not offering to hold it for you.”
Soriah had brought up enough food to feed five grown men, which turned out to be a good call. Being shot and then sleeping for four days did a number on his appetite—that and Cyrus kept stealing bites.
Mid chew, Bastien froze, his eyes tripling in size before he groaned. “Fuck! Hal probably thinks I died! Where’s my phone? I need to call and grovel—”
Cyrus cut him off, “Whoa, whoa! Hal is fine, and no one thinks you’re dead. Syve called him Monday morning. You do have some God-awful case of pneumonia though.” He pointed at Bas with a spoon, his spoon.
“Gimme that, you hog!” Bas snatched the spoon back but was too slow to stop Cyrus from picking up the bowl instead, drinking the soup from it like a cup.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything?” Both men turned to see Aimi standing in the doorway, looking every bit like an angel with the drink carrier in her hands.
“You’re always welcome to join, Daisy,” Cy crooned.
“If one of those is for me, I swear I’ll love you forever,” Bas practically begged, mouth watering.
“Butcher Boy, you’d better already love me forever. Syve and I are a package deal—not that kind of package you idiot,” she scolded a giggling Cy, kicking him in the shin as she walked past to hand Bas one of the cups.
Surprisingly, she didn’t bat an eye when Cy reached out and pulled a drink from the carrier for himself.
“Thank you, Aimi,” Bas said reverently. “Syve left a little bit ago—not that I’m not glad you came by—”
“I know, she called me on her way home. I came to see you. Well, to yell at you, actually. Syve said you were finally awake, so I came to tell you how much of a dipshit I think you are. You think out of everyone on this planet she of all people needs to worry about someone almost dying because they’re being stupid?
” she admonished, wildly gesturing with her arms all the while. “But…I’m glad you’re okay.”
A melodious trill emanated from Aimi’s bag, catching all three of their attentions. She quickly dug her phone from her tiny plastic, neon yellow backpack. After a double take at the screen, her shoulders slumped and her playful smile disappeared.
“What’s wrong?” Both men asked simultaneously.
Aimi looked up from her phone, misery painted across her features. “It’s Syve.”
Bastien’s heart thumped wildly in his chest.
“She missed the deadline for the grant submission. She needed to submit everything on Monday…”
Nausea overwhelmed him. Though Aimi’s tone showed no sign of accusation, Bas could not help but feel heavy with guilt.
Aimi must have noticed the change in his demeanor, because she added, “If you blame yourself, it will only make her feel worse. So don’t do that. Seriously. Don’t.”
Cyrus asked her something; the two of them argued while Bastien spiraled.
Don’t blame yourself. That was easier said than done .
“Will you tell me?” he blurted. Aimi and Cy both turned to look at him, confused. “If there’s something we can do—something I can do? I know she really needed that grant…maybe there’s another one?”
Aimi held up a hand silencing him.
“Just let her process this—don’t tell her I told you either!
Let her tell you on her own.” She raised her eyebrows, silently demanding secrecy from each of them before softening.
“But, yes. If there is anything you can do—not you, put your wallet away!” She pointed a finger in Cyrus’ face.
“I will let you know if you can do anything,” she said to Bastien.
Cyrus scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“Butcher boy,” Aimi added softly. “I really am glad you’re okay, not just for her sake. And if Cam says anything, I don’t really think you smell like a wet dog.”
Before he could respond, she was gone, Cyrus trailing after her.
Bastien turned his head to sniff his shoulder—he actually did smell like a wet dog. Time for a shower and some clean sheets .
At least three, maybe five, hours had passed since Aimi left and aside from the ten minutes he spent showering—he had spent every single second digging and digging for any kind of loophole that could be used to help Syve. He wished Dez was there. If anyone could find a solution, it would be him .
Dez . It was the twentieth of August. That meant he had gone and gotten himself shot on the anniversary of his brother’s death.
Groaning in frustration he dropped his phone in his lap and buried his face in his hands.
“Well, I guess that answers my first question.”
Bas peeked between his fingers to see Cam unloading a large plastic container onto the TV tray by his bed.
“How are you? Just peachy, thanks for asking. You’re very welcome, Bastien.
” She acted out their conversation and Bas could not keep from laughing when she dramatically lowered her voice to imitate him.
“I do not sound like that!” he complained, adding incredulously, “I don’t!”
When she raised an eyebrow, he asked, “What is all this?”
Cam sighed, dropping into the corner chair Cyrus usually occupied.
“Well, I made the mistake of having Aimi on speaker phone when she called to tell me you were sick. Kayla overheard and she has been all over me to make her Uncle Bas soup.” She huffed a laugh with a palm to her forehead.
“I told her you wouldn’t want any while you were sleeping, but she wasn’t having it.
The second Syve messaged the group chat saying you were awake and probably not contagious anymore, I dove right into the kitchen.
” She cracked open the lid to the bowl, giving a Vanna White wave as she did.
“ I present my great-aunt Aggie’s famous homemade chicken noodle soup! ”
“Uncle Bas? Does that mean I have Kayla’s approval to stick around?” He laughed. “But seriously, thank you. This looks amazing.”
“Actually, we all approve of you, so you better plan on sticking around. Syve…she’s been acting more like Syve since you two started hanging out.
I’m not saying she needs to be fixed, but she’s definitely a little broken.
I’m just glad to see she’s ready to glue the pieces together, instead of throwing them away. ”
Bas hung his head. Sure, she said that now, but would she still think the same when she learned that he had cost Syve her shop?
“Let’s hear it.”
“Hear it?” he asked, raising his head to look at her, confusion written all over his face.
“You look like someone kicked your dog.”
Bastien winced at her chosen phrase.
“I’m guessing from all the praise you haven’t heard about the grant yet,” he sighed.
“I’ve heard. You don’t seriously think we’re going to blame you for it, do you?”
The sheepish look on his face must have said enough because Cam started to laugh.
“You’re a dumbass. ”
“Hey! Because she was here with me, she missed the deadline—I’ve spent all day looking for other grants, or a way for her to get away with submitting late and nothing.”
“Did you try calling? Telling them why she missed it? That it was your fault because she was nursing you back to health?” She crossed her arms giving him a look that said she already knew the answer.
“I’m a dumbass,” he confirmed, slapping his hand over his phone and slumping against the headboard.
Cam nodded in agreement as she stood from the chair. “Well, sounds like you have some work to do. I’ll be sure to tell Kayla that you’re doing better. Try to stay off your deathbed from now on, yeah?” She shot him a two-finger salute then walked out of the room.
He had his phone up to his ear before her blonde head had even disappeared around the corner.