Page 73 of Star-Crossed
How that rare moment had felt like the eye of the hurricane.
He was in it again now. The warmth of her gaze, the intensity of her focus, and the understanding in the way she looked at him all combined to suffuse him with absolute calm.
He could feel himself wanting to lean across the cab and kiss her, wanting the reassurance of her physical touch.
Instead, he shifted his eyes back toward the road.
What she said was: “Step on it, Forrester.”
What he heard was:I trust you.
The simple truth of it cut through the haze of self-doubt and humiliation that had settled over him, allowing him to see himself through her eyes. As a man she was willing to ride toward a fire with. A man capable of keeping her safe.
And no matter what may or may not happen between them romantically, he would be forever grateful to her for the version of himself she saw. The version of himself she allowed him to be in that moment.
The roar of Cy’s truck engine melded with the crackling flames as he turned down the road that would lead them behind Vee and Myrtle’s property. Fat flakes of ash fell like feathers as the scent of smoke thickened within the truck’s cab. Lyra quickly killed the air conditioner and flipped on the windshield wipers without Cy’s having to ask.
In silence, they stared out the arc swept clean by the black wiper blades. Ruts in the hard-packed dirt road jostled them past flickers of orange winking through the trees.
The scent of smoke gradually lessened as they climbed toward the scenic turnout Cy had in mind.
He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt. “I don’t suppose it would do me any good to ask you to stay in the cab?”
“What do you think?” Lyra replied, unclipping her belt and wrenching open her door.
Blinking his eyes against the occasional stinging gusts, Cy climbed into the bed of his truck and unlocked the chest of gadgets his father had mercilessly teased him for investing in.
Looking at the sleek black metallic machine with its four rotors gleaming in the hazy light, Cy got to work setting it up, handing Lyra the iPad so he could focus on keeping the expensive machine from being sucked straight into the roaring draft.
As the drone lifted off, Lyra gasped. “Look at that.”
Cy peered over her shoulder as they watched the screen together in awe. The fire had already consumed almost a quarter of the property, and it was quickly spreading toward the creek.
He steered the drone closer and noticed two figures slightly obscured from view by an outbuilding near the back fence. He quickly navigated his way down to take a closer look and found what he had been hoping for: a small patch of earth that remained untouched by the flames.
“There!” he said, pointing to the screen. “That’s where we need to create the firebreak.”
Lyra nodded in agreement, her gaze fixed on the mesmerizing glow of the digital flames. “But how do we let them know?”
Cy hadn’t actually gotten that far in his plan. Somehow, he doubted Ethan would have his cell phone tucked into his fire-retardant vest.
“I have an idea,” Lyra said, digging in her pocket and pulling out her cell phone.
Cy heard two rings before a familiar voice crackled onto the line. Myrtle.
“Lyra honey, could I call you right back?” Cy heard her ask in a deceptively kind, calm tone. “I’m just a little busy.”
A painful knot clutched at Cy’s throat. This kind of thing always slayed him. Women handling horrific circumstances with unassuming grace and concern for others.
Like his mother had until the very end.
“Listen, Myrtle, Cy and I are on the hill behind your property, and I need you to tell Ethan that there’s a spot behind the barn on the—” Lyra paused, looking to Cy.
“The east side,” he said.
“The east side, where they can construct a firebreak,” Lyra said. “Have them move the volunteers to the east side.”
“The east side,” Myrtle repeated. “You’re sure?”
