Page 79 of Forget Me Not
The promise he made the night he came home and was forced to tell her what happened to their brother. He promised to never leave her alone on this earth—to fight anything that would ever try to take them away from one another. In a blink he crossed the kitchen andwrapped her in a hug.
“You’re right, and I am so, so sorry.” He rubbed circles on her back as she sobbed into his shoulder. “May my shoes never be tied the same tightness, and my water always be lukewarm.” The vow pulled a laugh from her and she pulled back to look at him, wiping her face with her hands.
“You’re so dumb.”
“I am. I truly am sorry. You would think after the reprimand I got from Syve, I would have learned something and come to apologize to you sooner.”
“She yelled at you?” Del smiled, clearly impressed.
“Well, she never raised her voice, but just like Mama, she didn’t need to.”
Del laughed again.
“I’m glad she’s keeping you in line.”
“Oh, yeah. She made me promise no more dumb shit, too. So, between the two of you, I’ll be spending the rest of my life as a saint.” He held his hands up like he was praying, blinking innocently.
Del’s phone pinged, and she rolled her eyes at her brother as she raised it. “Yeah, whatever.” But before she could unlock it, her phone buzzed three more times in rapid succession. “Oh my God, did somebody die? What is going—” She stopped short with a cringe, then her eyes widened and her gaze darted to his.
“What is it?”
“You were with Syve this morning, right? And you saw Aimi too?”
“Yes, Del, why? What’s going on?”
“Did you see Cyrus this morning? He never came home last night, did he? He hasn’t been around all day either.” Del’s voice was fast, tinged with panic.
“Delanira! What happened?” Bastien’s voice rose as he grasped her shoulders, trying to steady her focus.
Instead of answering, she sucked her lips into her mouth and turned her phone around so he could see the screen. One of her friends had sent her a screenshot—a social media post by the local police department.
A body had been found in the woods.
Syve
Threehoursofsleep—thatwas all Syve had managed after pushing to finish preparing everything for her presentation, then waking early to make sure she looked, well, presentable. Aimi had brought her coffee—one cup for now, one for later—she had said when she pushed one cup into Syve’s hand and set the other in the truck’s cup holder.
Her best friend had helped her load her suitcase full of freshly pressed clothes into the passenger seat, as well as two dress forms and a small hanging rack into the bed of the truck.
“You’ve got caffeine, clothes, and creepy ass mannequins. Drive safe, don’t let them tell you no, and call me as soon asyou walk out! I want you to tell me about all the tears they shed over your beautiful work,” Aimi said, slapping Syve on the ass, then giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Go now, so you’re not late!” She pushed her friend into the driver seat and closed the truck door with a slam.
Eighty-five miles later, Syve was putting the truck in park outside of an old brick building in downtown Bozeman. Unlocking her phone, she sent a quick text to Aimi letting her know that her brain thanked her for the second coffee, but her bladder would be sending a hospital bill for repairs after rupturing around mile sixty. Then she sent Bastien a GIF of Sheldon breathing into a paper bag, letting him know she’d arrived.
It took fifteen minutes—and three trips—to haul all her things inside, plus a pit stop to the bathroom, before she found herself standing in the middle of a conference room. A table of serious-looking people in suits all fixed their eyes on her. The little gray poncho that Cam had broken the sound barrier over, hung on the rack alongside a child’s shirt, the children’s pants with reinforced knees, and a pair of men’s pants. On the dress forms were a men’s shirt, with mesh panels hidden along the back and under the arms for air flow, and a unisex jacket that had an obscene number of pockets and a removable top layer that could be worn separately as a raincoat. She’d laid out the flowy skirt—with hidden pockets and button details to pick up the length—across the tablefor close inspection.
On herself, Syve wore a loose-fitting shirt, fitted cargo pants with deep pockets and an adjustable waistband, and held a hanger bearing a tiny dress—complete with coverall straps and shorts hidden beneath the skirt.
“Alright, Mrs. Gehring, show us what you’ve got.”
Aimi picked up on the first ring.
“It has been two hours! I was worried you gotlost! Girl, you’d better start screaming!”
Syve’s voice was barely above a whisper, breathless and full of disbelief. “I got it.”
“Bitch! Yeah, you did!” Aimi hollered, followed by a muffled apology. “Shit, I got too excited and upset Mr. Halsen. Toni! I’m taking five. No, better make that fifteen…or thirty—can you just cover the counter till I get back? Cool, just holler if you need me. Okay, start talking. I want everything—don’t even leave out if one of them breathed weirdly!”
