Page 94 of Star-Crossed
Cy mulled over Ethan’s words, the gears turning in his head.
Who he really wanted to be was the man sitting next to Lyra McKendrick in the glow of flameless candles. The man on the receiving end of her sharp wit and sharper tongue. The man who made her legs shake and her body melt.
“So get off your dumb ass and go get her,” Ethan said, once again continuing a conversation that had partially taken place in their heads. “But maybe shower first, because fuck, bro, you look like hammered shit.”
Cy’s reply was more grunt than laugh, but it shifted some remaining pocket of shadow within him.
“Thanks, Ethan,” he said, trying to infuse the words with the full magnitude they deserved.
“You’re welcome, Cypress,” Ethan said in an impressive replica of his mother’s overly crisp diction.
They pushed themselves off the couch, and Cy walked his friend to the door, waiting until he’d closed it again to sprint to his bathroom.
He knew what he had to do.
And he couldn’t wait another second to do it.
* * *
An ambulance.
Cy’s heart pounded like a jackhammer as the vehicle’s scream tore through his inertia, making him step on the gas as it gunned away from the curb in front of Star-Crossed.
The nerves that he’d fought all the way over turned into a howling chorus of doubts as he slammed on his brakes and steered his truck into the first available spot.
His prosthetic felt like a lead weight as he lurched toward the shop, the building seeming to shrink into a distance he’d never be able to cross.
Please, don’t let it be her.
Don’t let it be her.
Don’t. Let. It. Be. Her.
Words that became a mantra propelled him at last through the front door.
He scanned the room, greedy for any sight of Lyra. Instead, he found Gabe behind the counter, animatedly talking to a woman who was mostly paying attention to his bulging biceps.
“This, uh, purple one here can really help calm the mind and ward off negative energy,” Gabe said in his thick Southie accent, waving an oversized purple obelisk in the air. “Of course, you could just slip it between the seventh and eighth ribs of whoever it is that’s bringing that negative energy into your life in the first place, am I right?” He mimed a stabbing motion to the customer, who looked equal parts concerned and confused.
“Where’s Lyra?” Cy demanded, his voice coming out more forcefully than he intended. The worry gnawing at his insides was making it difficult to think straight.
He knew the answer before the words even left Gabe’s lips.
“On her way to the hospital,” Gabe said, setting the crystal aside. “Gemma went with her.”
Sound took on a strange underwater quality, muffled by the thunderous beating of Cy’s own heart. Sweat instantly bloomed on the palms he pressed to the counter, steadying himself as a wave of dread crashed over him.
“Take it easy, big guy,” Gabe said, his body tensing as if in preparation to spring over the counter if need be.
“What happened?” Cy’s stomach churned with worry, and his fingers curled into tight fists above the glass display.
“I don’t have all the details, but—”
“Lyra fainted.”
The sound of Vee’s cool, imminently sane accent lowered Cy’s blood pressure by several points. She breezed into the store, dragging the scent of an English garden and a sense of control in her wake. “She complained of dizziness just before she collapsed, but was conscious and lucid by the time the paramedics arrived. Gemma said she was initially disoriented, and her breathing was a bit shallow, but other than that, she seemed stable.”
“How’d you get here so fast?” Gabe asked.
