Page 72 of Star-Crossed
With a heavy exhale, he reluctantly nodded in resignation. “Fine.”
Cy trudged back over to Lyra and Caryn as the group dispersed, his disappointment giving way to a seething rage and defeat that had crept up on him like a shadow.
He felt useless, embarrassed, and utterly frustrated by the entire situation. Benched. Left on the sidelines while others fought the battle.
Lyra approached him, her eyes alight with determination. She crossed her arms over her chest, surveying the flurry of activity as the caravan rolled out to fight the wildfire. Cy steeled himself against the lukewarm consolation and pity that always followed these kinds of interactions.
“What a total crock of shit,” she said dryly. “You’re probably more qualified than any of these volunteers, maybe even the firefighters. And yet here you are, stuck on the sidelines because of this idiotic macho ableism.”
Cy blinked at her in surprise, his rage momentarily forgotten. It was as though she had plucked the thoughts straight from his mind and given voice to his frustrations. He could feel the weight of her words settle around him like a warm blanket, offering consolation and comfort.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Caryn said, shocking him even further. “As if I’m not amply capable of instructing any volunteers that arrive onmyproperty. It’s beyond insulting.” She folded her arms across her breasts, scuffing at a tire track in her golf-course-perfect grass with the sole of her sandal.
Lyra and Cy exchanged a look.
“So if Cy and I were to head over to Myrtle and Vee’s—”
“I would be more than capable of directing any late arrivals,” Caryn said. “Of course.”
“Shall we?” Lyra suggested, a challenging glint in her eyes.
“We?” Cy asked. The idea of her physical proximity to any danger immediately had his pulse drumming in his ears.
She arched a dark eyebrow at him. “And here I thought if anyone would understand the importance of complementary skill sets in a crisis situation, it would be you.”
“How’s that?” he asked, assuming she was going to leverage the opportunity to needle him about having sent Jack over to her store.
“You know, like the reason you want barbarian, bard,anda ranger on a campaign?”
Cy stared at her, his jaw nearly hitting the ground in surprise.
Had she actually just used Dungeons & Dragons strategy terms to illustrate her point?
“Good point,” he said.
Because he needed to say something so he didn’t spontaneously propose to her.
They loaded up into the truck and slammed their doors.
Cy’s mind raced as they motored toward the rising column of smoke, scanning the surrounding landscape. If only he could see how far the fire had progressed on the side of the barn closest to the creek…
“The drone!”
Lyra jumped, her hand flying to her heart. “What’s that?”
“The drone,” Cy said, thumping the steering wheel. “If we can get high enough above the property, I can use the drone to figure out the best place to create a firebreak on the side of the property closest to town.”
“How do we go about doing that?”
Cy provided an extremely abbreviated version of the strategy. “If we can clear a path wide enough from here to the river, the fire will eventually burn its way out.”
“Why do you look so worried?” Lyra asked.
He slowed the truck at a fork in the road that would lead them safely into Townsend Harbor or directly toward the blaze, depending on the path they chose. “We’ll need to get a little closer to the fire in order to do it.”
They exchanged a prolonged look.
In that moment, Cy was taken back to the night they had returned from their trip to the hot springs. How they had stumbled into his room, drunk on the night and each other. How he had tasted the salt of her sweat. How, in his bed, he had buried himself inside her as deep as he could go.
