Page 61 of Star-Crossed
“How are you an even worse liar now than you were in high school?” Kiki demanded, breaking her silence.
At this, Cy experienced a surge of nostalgic warmth. On occasion, in high school, when he had come rolling in at an hour that made their father question whether indeed he ought to be allowed his own set of wheels, Kiki had always covered for him, somehow coming up with surprisingly plausible scenarios that typically cast Cy in a heroic light.
…and if it weren’t for Cy, the whole den of coyote pups would have drowned.
Never mind that they hadn’t had a flash flood in Townsend County in thirty years.
Kiki propped her work boot up on the dash.
“Hey,” Cy protested. “I just had that detailed.”
“Really?” Her dark eyes narrowed at him as she moved her foot, leaving a faint but powdery checkerboard of the boot’s traction-happy sole. “Because they seem to have missed the size-seven shoe-print on the ceiling.”
Fuck.
He didn’t dignify the comment by glancing up to see the damning evidence. He didn’t need to.
Cy felt his face flush, remembering the way he and Lyra had begun groping each other even before the tires stopped rolling in the driveway.
Lyra’s soft lips had tasted like honey, her skin deliciously musky from the mineral-rich water. She had wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer while they sank down on the bench seat, mimicking the configuration of their back-of-the-bus tangle almost exactly. Drowning in each other until all sense of time escaped them both.
Double fuck.
Recalling such a sweet memory under such bitter circumstances only hastened the thunderheads darkening his mood. He should have known better than to think he could hide anything from his sister.
“Okay, fine. We slept together.” Cy sighed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders at the admission. “But we’re keeping it casual.”
The words tasted bitter on his tongue. He thought back to waking up with Lyra in his arms as sunlight filtered through the windows of his cabin. For a few perfect moments, he’d felt content and at peace in a way he hadn’t known since before the accident.
Only to have it obliterated with her cool, matter-of-fact announcement that she intended to pursue other options.
Other men.
It wasn’t like Cy didn’t understand. He had no desire to be a brief rebound. But damned if he could get comfortable with the idea of being a stud in her stable.
And a lame one at that.
The dull ache that had woken in his chest spread to his body and brain.
“Casual,” Kiki repeated, dragging him out of his muddy thoughts.
“Yeah,” Cy said.
“Casual like the time you nearly broke the jaw of that guy that Delia cheated on you with?”
The memory hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. His fists clenched tightly as he recalled the rage that boiled within him, the way his muscles tensed and coiled like a cobra ready to strike. He could still feel the reverberations of the impact as his knuckles connected with the man’s face, the satisfying crunch of bone that threatened to give way under his fury.
“Things are different now,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Are they, though?” Kiki said, her eyes searching his face for any hint of doubt. “Or are you just trying to convince yourself that you can handle Lyra dating other people because you’re hoping she’ll eventually choose you?”
Cy gritted his teeth, feeling the anger simmering beneath the surface. He hated that this accusation stung.
With a deep breath, he forced a tight-lipped smile. “If I say I can handle it, I can handle it.”
“All right,” she conceded, though the worry in her eyes remained. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
