Rewind to You (13 page)

Don’t let me drive that Jeep!
The words scream over and over in my mind, rattling in my brain.
I’m so sorry, Dad.
I think the words I ache to say.
So, so sorry.
I feel myself being swept away, left only with that unbearable hole in my heart I fear will never heal.

CHAPTER 19

Austin

I
surface when I reach her and lift her body. She twitches, her body convulsing before going limp. I carry her to dry land, my heart racing. I feel for a pulse, for breathing, and begin CPR. Chest compressions.

Sienna coughs a half a breath later. Beautiful sound. Best thing I’ve ever heard. I help her onto her side as she coughs out water. Only now do I realize we’ve attracted a small crowd. Some have drawn out cell phones to call paramedics, but they see Sienna sitting up. Hopefully no one’s YouTubing this. Don’t think Sienna would like that much. Turbo dances around us, wound up by the action. A few people clap. I can tell Sienna is mortified by the applause. But she’s okay, and that’s all that matters.

“Are you all right?” I ask, pulling her into my arms as the small crowd separates.

Sienna breathes in and out, gaining composure. “When have I heard that before?”

I smile, remembering a similar scenario one week ago on River Street. Then her hand flies up and slaps my face.

“What the—” I touch my cheek where her hand most likely left a mark.

If she didn’t look so hot with her hair wet, her eyes glaring holes through me, I might actually draw away.

She points a finger at me, still catching her breath. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“What?”

She points to the ocean as the crowd scatters. “That! Staying under there like you’re some guppy fish.”

I grimace. “Guppy fish? Come on. What about shark? Swordfish? Something manly.”

She gives me a reluctant smile. “Guppy.”

“I was a lifeguard every summer through high school. Swam a lot.”

Sienna shakes her head. “Oh, okay. You’re a lifeguard, too. Is there a job you haven’t had?”

My grin fades. “You fainted again, didn’t you?”

She shifts her gaze to the ocean, quiet.

“Look, you don’t have to talk about it. This has happened twice, though, and—”

“Three times,” she interrupts. She puts her index finger in the sand, gliding it around like the motion is therapeutic. “It’s happened three times.”

I nod, waiting. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. But . . .” Still, I watch her, willing her to go on.

Her finger continues to drag in circular motions, cutting deeper lines in the sand. Over and over. She looks like she’s about to jump off a high dive. Scared. Vulnerable. Shallow breaths. Shaky hands. She closes her eyes and swallows like her throat hurts. “Last summer, my dad and I were in my Jeep. It was the Fourth of July, my favorite holiday. Usually we spent it here in Savannah, but my team got the chance to dance at a festival in Virginia.”

Sienna looks to the horizon. I can’t read her thoughts. Wish I could. Her eyes are sad but she smiles, like she’s glimpsing a memory that’s bittersweet. “I remember the look on my dad’s face like it was yesterday. We were both laughing about something, on our way to meet up with the rest of our family for the Dogwood Dell fireworks. The first one was purple, one of those huge fireworks with sparks draping down.”

She runs her fingers through her wet hair and lets out a frustrated breath. Shakes her head. “Of all the things to remember from that night, I remember the color of that stupid firework. I just stared at it—stared and stared—as I drove over the bridge.

“Life couldn’t get any better, you know? Right then. We’d already spent a month here on Tybee and we were back in Virginia for the rest of the summer. I was ready for my senior year. My performance that night was awesome. Things were never perfect between my mom and Spencer, but all in all, it was a great day. I was with my dad, on our way to celebrate. Everything seemed just right.”

A scar on Sienna’s forehead catches my eye. I’ve noticed it before but never asked. My stomach twists. I have a good idea what happened next.

“It was my fault,” she says, her voice catching. “It was my fault we were late to the fireworks. My fault we were even in Richmond in the first place. I heard the motorcycles coming up fast behind us. Left lane. I didn’t pay them much attention. Until the red motorcycle swerved in front of me.”

Sienna pauses, her eyebrows drawing together. “I couldn’t remember the color of that motorcycle until now.” She’s silent for a minute, like she’s off in another place. “It all happened so fast. I was so freaked out, I didn’t even realize I had swerved. Then I overcorrected. Suddenly we were spinning out of control. I could hardly scream, I was so scared. It didn’t feel real. It still doesn’t.

“But it was real. Our Jeep tipped. They say we rolled one and a half times, hitting the barricade on the top of the second roll. That’s when I must have hit my head and blacked out. Next thing I knew, water was filling our car. We’d flipped over the edge of the bridge into the James.”

“The
river?
”

She nods once.

My gut does a weird lurch, feeling sick as I imagine Sienna in that car.

“The windshield caved in. I felt my dad’s hand at my side, unlatching my seat belt.

“That’s when it hit me, when I was suddenly swimming for air: We were going to die. But
I
didn’t. That first breath of air when I reached the top felt like a miracle. And Dad was right behind me, I just knew it. I waited on the surface for what felt like forever, though, before I realized I was wrong. He was still trapped inside. My Jeep was totally under water.”

Sienna closes her eyelids, her lips pulling into a painful wince. “I dove down twice. I couldn’t see a thing, only those fireworks flashing overhead, like they were setting my whole world on fire. The second time I went down I found the Jeep, but everything was so dark, so cold. I felt along the edge for the passenger door.”

Surprisingly, Sienna’s eyes are dry, but her voice catches again as she continues. “But I ran out of air. I forced myself to stay down there so long, I was about to gulp in water. I barely made it back up. It’s all a blur now, how I got from there to the hospital. Firefighters. Medics. Flashing lights. At last, Search and Rescue.

“The motorcyclists fled the scene, probably drunk. First responders came fast, but not fast enough. It was all too late. My dad was gone.”

Sienna’s eyes lock in a frightening trance on the ocean. “I was the reason we were late to meet up with our family, Austin. It’s because of me that we were even in Richmond in the first place instead of here.
I
was driving.”

I look away, feeling a sting in my own eyes.

“I was watching those fireworks,” she continues. “I overcorrected. I survived.”

Gently, I brush away a few hairs blowing across Sienna’s face, fishing for the right words but coming up empty.

Her lip quivers. “If I could go back, I would. I’ll never forget the sight of him . . . afterward. His skin so pale. I did that.”

A tear makes a run for it down my cheek before I can wipe it away. I wrap her in my arms. Anything I could say right now would sound trite, so I just hold her, hoping that’s best.

A minute later, Sienna pulls back and looks up at me.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. Lame, but it’s all I can come up with.

She wipes the moisture from my cheek and gives me a sad smile. Something is wrong about this picture: her wiping tears from my eyes. What a baby.

Sienna strips off her wet shirt and wrings out the water, abruptly cutting my train of thought. Swimsuit and shorts. That’s it. I try hard not to stare at the nice view she’s giving me. After spreading her shirt on the sand to dry, she shifts to her side and lies down, propping herself up on one elbow. I swallow hard and lie down facing her.

“I bawled for a month,” she says. “My mom had a hard time talking about the accident; not that I blame her. Every time I brought it up, she closed down. I cried on her lap night after night. Then one night I wiped my last tear, tossed the tissue, and walked away. And I haven’t been able to cry since.” She gestures to her dry eyes with a resigned grin. “It’s better this way.”

I place my hand on hers and squeeze.

“You know, my dad came to every dance recital,” she says. “Every one.”

I shift my gaze, thinking of all the games when I looked to the bleachers, waiting for the day my dad would show.

My eyes drift to her swimming suit neckline. I look away. “Question,” I say, mostly to distract myself. “What does all of this have to do with you fainting?”

She smiles. “Guess I haven’t answered that yet.”

I place my finger on her forehead and trace the scar. “Is it because you hit your head in the accident?”

“No. The doc said my head is fine. But . . .”

“But what?”

She shrugs. “I have this idea. I think I might know what’s making me faint.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Austin, trust me, it’s silly. And a little insane.”

“Nothing you say will make me think you’re insane.”

She gives me a doubtful look.

“Try me,” I say, memorizing the feel of her skin as I trace the outline of her jaw.

“Every time I black out, I see my dad in the garden behind our house. I fainted the first time after seeing a picture of me and him, a photo we took on Tybee before he died. The second time, those fireworks on River Street set it off. Images of that night in the Jeep kept flashing in my mind, fireworks and all. The third time, you went under the water just now. When you didn’t surface, it reminded me of how my dad went under and never came up.”

“Sorry about that,” I say. “So, you faint whenever something sparks a memory of the accident?”

She nods, like the idea is still new. “Remember when you got lost as a kid?”

I nod.

“You know that feeling you get when you finally find your way again, like when Turbo led you home?”

I glance over and spot Turbo sniffing at nothing in particular.

“He was my Turbo,” Sienna says. “My dad. And I was stupid enough to think he’d be around forever.” She makes eye contact with a sad grin. “Thanks for listening.”

“Yeah, well, that’s about all I did. That, and let you wipe away
my
tears.”

She leans over and bumps our shoulders together with a coy smile.

Her story doesn’t feel complete, maybe because I’ve always been one for happy endings. All the reasons we can’t be together—Sienna’s boyfriend and our different college plans—fizzle away when I’m with her. I want to hold her and tell her everything will be okay, kiss the unseen tears from her eyes. Or maybe just go straight for her lips.

Still, I hesitate. Only Sienna wields this kind of power over me. But does she feel the same?

CHAPTER 20

Sienna

I
regret the words even before I say them. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

I sit up. Heaven knows I want him to hold me, kiss me. Simply the sight of Austin’s blue eyes and perfect face makes me want to explore those lips.
But this is only a fling. Summer love.
Or maybe I should be true to myself and accept that this is something more.

We grab hot dogs at a stand, the really greasy ones with tons of ketchup. Oh, how I’ve missed these. Turbo runs along beside us, never straying far. A radio somewhere on the beach plays music as we talk, and I realize I’ve hardly stopped smiling.

Austin suggests paddle surfing, and we do, surfing from one end of the beach to the other while Turbo watches vigilantly from the sand. I think about the color of that motorcycle—red—a detail from the accident I finally remember after all this time. When our energy is spent, skin tanned from too much sun, we plop down on the sand, content to do nothing but rest.

Images of this place twirl through my mind, images with Austin: walking on River Street, exploring Savannah on his motorcycle, holding his hand, listening to his laugh on the beach. When I arrived on Tybee this summer, I sort of hated it. Hated the bittersweet memories it evoked. I didn’t want to be here. Then something changed. Now this place is even more enticing than when I was five. And for the first time in a long while, I believe it’s possible to feel entirely happy again.

Turbo plops down beside us. Thick clouds drift across the sky, and shade has never looked so appealing. I return the baseball cap that I borrowed from Austin, my arm accidently brushing his. No biggie. But I’m hyperaware of every touch, my soul taking flight every moment he’s near. His fingers begin playing with my hair. Intoxicating. I dare a glance his way.

He rests on one elbow, his eyes searching mine. Austin sees me—I feel it—really sees me and maybe even understands. Kyle offered an “open ear” so many times, but it didn’t feel like this. Was he listening at all? Deep down I always knew I needed something more.

Truth is, Tybee and Savannah haven’t changed one bit, not really. It’s Austin. He’s changed everything. Although I feel like I’m betraying the memory of my dad by feeling this carefree, Austin is the spontaneity I’ve never had, the medicine that fills my heart, opening it to love—to life—again. And I’m becoming addicted.

Storm clouds roll in above us. All the fair-weather beach bums scatter, taking shelter in beach shops across the street. Cars pull out of the parking lot, cluttering the street. We can all feel it coming, can taste the moisture in the air. Austin doesn’t move, though, and neither do I. His chest rises and falls with every breath. In and out. In and out. I forget how to breathe altogether, lost in his blue eyes as his fingers trace the outline of my face. His fingers drop to my lips, leaving a trace of salt water from his skin as his thumb glides across.

I’m ready for this. Want his lips on mine.

Thunder cracks in the distance, sending a tremor through the ground. Austin glances around. The gentle breeze increases to sporadic gusts of wind. Everyone has taken off for shelter. Except us. Oddly, no moment in time has seemed so perfect, and I don’t want to move.