Page 89 of Star-Crossed
“What?” She was a hundred percent certain she’d heard him the first time but was kindly giving him a chance to redact or redirect.
“The job at the environmental firm,” he said as if she’d forgotten. “You should take it. It’s perfect for you.”
“I don’t know that it is,” she said. “I mean…the opportunity is one I’ve wanted forever but, I-I just… I don’t know what to think.”
“What is there to think about?” Cy’s voice had garnered strength. “It’s a no-brainer. You’d be crazy not to leap at it.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” She jerked away from his touch. “I’m trying to tell you how important you are to me, and you decide this is the perfect time to, what, dump me?”
A wave of anger crashed over her like icy water, extinguishing the warmth that had been building between them.
“I’m not dumping you, Lyra. We’ve never even defined whatthisis.” Cy attempted to reach for her, but she cut him off with a fierce glare.
“Well, fuck me, Cy, I was trying to do that before you started being ridiculous.” She pushed herself to her feet, crossing her arms over her middle.
Notbecause she was defensive. Just because she was cold.
Cy clenched his fists, his jaw tight with determination as he stubbornly insisted, “No, Lyra. Your staying in Townsend Harbor for me is ridiculous. I have nothing to offer you but a tiny cabin in the woods, a small business, and a quiet life that can’t compare to what you could have out there.”
He gestured vaguely toward the distant city lights, growing more animated with each word. “You’re the one who said you were looking for casual, and now you have the chance to work for a firm that fights for the environment, imposing restrictions on corporations to reduce their carbon footprint. That’s something big, something worthy. Sure, we’re drunk on the sex we’re having, but if you committed to that, to me, eventually you’d come back up here and dream of leaving. You’d hate me for trapping you in a life youalwaysknew youneverwanted.”
Lyra whirled toward the water, throwing her hands up in a sarcastic gesture. “Oh, so we have had a fortune-teller in this town all along! Tell me, Nostra-dumbass, what other decisions are you planning on making for me?”
When she glanced back, he had both his boots planted on the ground and his arms folded over a wide chest heaving with his temper. “That was uncalled for.”
Lyra’s eyes could already be blindfolded with dental floss as her simmering anger boiled over. She took a deep breath, preparing for the verbal onslaught she was about to unleash. “What’s uncalled for is your presumption to know what’s best for me, what I want, or what decisions I should make. What, did you wake up this morning in 1956?” She stepped closer, her voice low and cutting. “How dare you treat me like some dick-drunk THOT who doesn’t know her own mind? I might be conflicted, but I’m not stupid, and I don’t need some man to tell me what’s best for me.”
Cy’s expression was equal parts tempestuous and grim, which threatened to break her heart into shards of glass. “I’m talking about what’s best for us both, Lyra. Think about it. I belong to this land. I have roots here. Responsibilities. And you? You have wings. I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just refusing to be the reason you don’t spread those wings.”
Oh no he didn’t. He didn’t get to be the hero here.
“Your stubbornness is doing you no favors right now,” she continued, her words slicing through the thickening atmosphere like a heated blade. “You’re so invested in this idea that you’re not good enough for me. You’re so sure that I want more than what you can give me that you’re not even willing to let me decide for myself. And you know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do want more than a life in Townsend Harbor, but that doesn’t mean I can’t want you too. That we couldn’t have had this conversation.”
Lyra’s voice cracked as she spoke, the anger and frustration giving way to a deep sense of sadness. She had never felt so conflicted in her life. So hurt. So angry.
Not even at Harrison. She hadn’t wanted Harrison like she’d wanted Cy. Not really. She’d accepted him as part and parcel of the life she’d been chasing.
The life that was now chasing her.
“Trust me, Lyra.” Cy’s voice was lethally low, dangerously dark, and so bleak it destroyed the last shreds of her hope. “Iknowwhat it’s like to have your dreams taken. I couldn’t stop what happened to me, and now I have to live with all the regrets. And all the what-ifs. Even though I’ve carved something that looks like contentment here, I’m trapped in a body that is no longer complete. Andthat…that is what I can’t face someday. Your pity. Pity that will turn into a sense of obligation. Then resentment. I won’t do it, Lyra. I won’t do it to either of us.”
“Oh,” she said, her bones vibrating with a soul-deep weariness that made every part of her feel like it weighed double. “I get it now,” she said quietly, turning to pick up their ruined picnic. “You’re not an asshole… You’re just a coward.”
EIGHTEEN
Heart Rot
DECAY PRESENT IN THE HEARTWOOD (CENTER) OF A TREE.
“Are those beard plugs,or is that a treant infestation on your face?”
Cy grimaced at his blurry reflection in the smudged monitor, painfully aware that being a dick to a D&D chatbot had now become the chief outlet for his rage.
And through the lamest possible means.
That shit wouldn’t even fly when his bard was attempting a vicious insult.
Coward, on the other hand…
