Page 46 of Forget Me Not
When practicality said she should get rid of one of the cars, there was no hesitation before she handed over thekeys 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 amerelibrary. A six burner stove sat beside a double oven, and across from themwas 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. “Icoulduse 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.
