Page 45 of Forget Me Not
Leaning to the side, he pulled down his shirt collar, showing her the scar that covered the right side of his neck from spine to collar bone.
“I noticed something was off—I saw the glint from the gun…I was too slow. He gave me this trying to get me to leave him.”
He froze when he felt her trembling fingers tracing the scar. He hadn’t noticed that she had moved close enough to reach him. Without thinking he reached back, covered her hand with his and turned his head just enough to meet her gaze.
They stayed that way, neither moving an inch, until the sound of Syve’s phone vibrating on the coffee table made her jerk away before she reached for it.
Groaning, she swiped her phone open and began rapidly typing.
“Sorry, it’s Gunther.”
She aggressively finished sending her message and then slapped her phone back down on the table.
“I was going to ask the other day; how do you know him? Pardon me for being so blunt, but he’s kind of an asshole. He’s not exactly the company I would picture you to keep.”
Syve scoffed, “Oh, there’s nokind ofabout it. He’s a raging asshole, but he’s family, kinda. I guess that’s why I put up with him. He’s Erhard’s cousin.”
“You poor thing.”
They both laughed at that.
“But I get it. I told you we had a house guest—it’s my brother’s best friend. He annoys the hell out of me, but he’s basically family too. You know, he said Aimi baptized him in coffee the other day.”
“No way!” Disbelief slowing her words. “I can’t believe that’s who that was!”
The song of their laughter carried on, playing until Cam returned home, and then Bastien drove home, still humming the melody.
Syve
Sixpiecesdone.
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 knowyou’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.
