Rewind to You (23 page)

Then I hear someone cry out. Sienna’s voice. It’s just enough of a distraction, and Kyle seizes his chance.

He slugs me in the jaw so hard, my teeth snap down on my tongue, and I taste blood. On his feet now, he tries to hit me again, but I dodge his jab, wrap my arms around his head, and drive his face into my knee. I glimpse someone behind me, and when Kyle shoves me off him, I feel my elbow sinking into something small and delicate: a person.

I reel around and see Sienna hit the sand.

I fall to my knees beside her. “Sienna!”

A small crowd forms. Kyle’s dad tries to pull me away from her, but I easily shove him off. Sienna holds her shoulder gingerly where I fell into her. I reach to help her, but she slaps my hand away.

“What are you
doing
?” she nearly screams.

Her mom helps her up, eyeing me with an iciness that keeps me back. Kyle stands behind them, blood trickling over the smirk on his lips. A couple of years ago I would have tackled him and wiped that little smile off his face, finishing the fight. But I’ve changed. Or have I? Maybe I’m still nothing more than a kid from the South Side who learned to fend for himself.

I consider explaining why I’m here and realize how trivial it would sound to these people. After all, Turbo is just a dog. To them.

Kyle’s mom holds a napkin to his nose. The pent-up fury of the day dissolves, replaced with nothing more than the hollow feeling of regret. Nothing I do now is going to save Turbo. Yes, Kyle’s a punk who has picked way too many fights. He tried to kill my dog, no doubt, another attempt to pick the fight I wouldn’t give him at the hotel. Well, he got that fight after all.

I wipe my mouth, a streak of blood smearing the back of my hand. “I’m sorry.”

Sienna shakes her head with a scared, no,
disgusted
look on her face. “Go home,” she says before I can explain.

And that’s exactly what I do.

I stop at my aunt and uncle’s house only long enough to clean up and tell them how Turbo is. My mom stands outside the bathroom as I rinse the blood from my mouth, watching me with a wary eye. She doesn’t ask questions, though; she rarely does, and this time I’m glad.

“Austin, are you okay?” Uncle Mark asks from the front door as I straddle my motorcycle.

“Fine.”

His brows slide up skeptically.

“I’m sorry,” I say. For the blood. For the foul mood. Everything.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

I fire up the engine. “I don’t know.”

It’s true. I have no idea where I’m heading until I get there.

I park my motorcycle, walk down the stone staircase, and blend into the crowd of people dressed in red, white, and blue along River Street. Between my stop at The Westin this morning and now, I completely forgot today is the Fourth of July. I find a park bench and sit as the first firework explodes into color against the dark sky. I do my best not to think about Turbs, about the call I’ll get tomorrow morning from the vet.

Patriotic music plays somewhere behind me. People talk and laugh, boozing and lighting sparklers, and everything blends into a fog of incongruence around me. The celebration feels wrong, and I wonder if, in a very small way, this gutted-out feeling is anything like what Sienna experienced the night her dad died.

I focus on the reflection of fireworks on the Savannah River, trying to press Sienna out of my mind. But it doesn’t help. The longer I stare at the flash of colors, the deeper one thought burns inside me: Sienna is watching fireworks right now as well, only she’s with Kyle.

In spite of this, I was painfully right. No matter what Sienna does, no matter what happens between us or how much it hurts, I’ll always love her.

CHAPTER 34

Sienna

V
iolent,
that’s how Kyle described him. I sit on a blanket in the sand, waiting along with everyone else on the beach for the fireworks to begin over Tybee’s pier. When Kyle first accused Austin of being dangerous, it didn’t sit right. But today, I caught a glimpse of the Austin Kyle described.

I look at the shiner that’s beginning to outline Kyle’s eye in shades of pink and purple. He lies down on the blanket beside me with a contented smile. With parasailing this afternoon and the fight this evening, I’ve hardly had a chance to think about my dad, about the fact that it was one year ago today that he died.

“How’s your nose?” I ask.

Kyle places my hand on his face and burrows into it, beckoning my affection. “Sore,” he replies and pulls me toward him.

Dull pain pinches my shoulder where Austin fell into me. “What was that all about today?”

“I told you,” he replies with an edge on his tone. “He’s unstable, Sienna. I ran into him at The Westin this morning. I asked him what was going on between you two, and he told me it was none of my business. Seriously, this thing he’s got for you is freakish, obsessive. I warned you. He’s insane. Literally. He got all pissed about me being with you, and he snapped. That’s all.”

“That’s what you told our parents,” I say. “There’s nothing more to it?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “Come on, Sienna. He’s a ticking time bomb, and he blew, like he did at the grill. Why do you think he never mentioned anything about breaking my arm?”

I look away, unable to deny that it is suspicious. Why didn’t I ask Austin about it at his aunt and uncle’s house yesterday? When I’m with him I so easily—so blindly—trust him.

“He didn’t want you to know what he’s really like,” Kyle says and wraps his arms around me. “I’m leaving Monday morning. Brittney’s freaking out about the wedding without my mom there. Anyway, tomorrow’s our last day together.”

Cupping the back of my head, he leans in to kiss me as the first firework explodes over the pier. A vibrating pulse shakes the ground beneath us.

“How are you?” he asks. I look over at Kyle, realizing I just dodged his kiss. “You know, with your dad and everything?”

Fireworks shoot up, one after another. I smile, inadvertently thinking of the first time I saw Austin under a sky of fireworks. That night I set out for River Street with the intention, however painful, of moving on. I went to River Street looking for the happiness I once felt there, and I found it.

“Actually, I’m okay,” I say. But with the thought of Austin comes an intolerable ache. I stand.

“Where are you going?” Kyle asks.

To be alone.
“The restroom,” I say instead. I can’t hide it, the pain of knowing Austin isn’t the person I thought he was, yet senselessly loving him nonetheless.

“You’ll miss the fireworks,” Kyle says, but I’m already at the back patio.

I close the door behind me, shutting out the muggy Georgia air and the acrid smell of fireworks. A chill sweeps over me, and I welcome it. I’m not scared anymore.

Another firework flashes, casting a red glow on the kitchen cabinets. I walk to the stairs, feeling my heart thud faster and faster, the palpitations Dr. Kovac told me about.

The ground shakes, sending a tremor up my legs. It takes me back to the Jeep, to the smile on my dad’s face as we zipped down the highway exactly one year ago tonight. That was the last of his smiles I ever saw.

I let myself think about it. Make myself think about it. Difficulty breathing, a cold sweat . . . I feel it all in full, doing nothing to prevent this seizure. As ridiculous as it is, I want to see Austin, the Austin I met under a sky of fireworks, who made life feel right again.

I kneel beside my bed, burying my head in the down comforter as the aura of light fills my vision. At last, I feel that same spark I did on River Street when the light gives way and I see him.

I waste no time after Kyle leaves town. Snagging my cell, I send the text I’ve been thinking about since the fight on Saturday.

I need to talk to u. Meet me by the pier.

I leave Austin no room to argue or refuse. My phone rings, and I yank it back out, my anticipation sinking when I see it isn’t Austin.

“Hey, Brian,” I answer.

“Hey, how was your Fourth of July?” he asks.

I tie my hair into a ponytail, hesitating before I reply. “Interesting.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Look, Brian, I gotta go—”

“I just called to invite you to a party. My house. Tonight.”

“Tonight? You’re throwing a party on a Monday night?”

“Why not? It’s summer break! We’ve got tons of fireworks left over. We’re having this big dance with a DJ and—” He goes on and on.

“I’ll try to come, Brian. Sounds like fun,” I say and thank him. I end the conversation and open the patio door.

“Where are you heading off to so early?”

I turn to find my mom sitting at the kitchen table with her kale juice, watching me.

“Brian called. I’ll be at the beach.” I leave it at that and give her a smile on my way out.

I walk down the beach toward the pier. I find a spot in the shade, sit, and look at the ocean, recalling what I rewound to when I passed out Saturday night. Austin and I were eating ice cream on River Street, just like on our “first date.” It works. I can save the moments I want to rewind to, at least the high moments that are worth remembering.

I don’t have to wait long before I hear the motorcycle pull up. He kills the engine, and a minute later I feel his presence behind me.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asks.

“Why didn’t you tell me about how you broke Kyle’s arm?”

I hear Austin’s feet shifting in the sand. “I hoped you’d realize on your own what your boyfriend really is.”

I almost laugh. “What
he
really is? So what is he, Austin?”

“A liar.”

“
He’s
the liar?” I turn around, looking into blue eyes that stand out against his tan skin. Wearing a casual shirt and the plaid shorts I first saw him in on River Street, he’s as ridiculously handsome as ever. Best to ignore those details at the moment. Although I doubt he ever blatantly lied to me, he deceived me by keeping the truth silent.

“Where is this coming from?” he asks.

“Why didn’t you answer my question about the drugs, Austin?”

He takes a step back, visibly affected by my question. He can’t play stupid, though. He can’t be Two-Face forever, like Spencer’s Batman villain, without my seeing his other side.

“I hoped you knew me well enough already,” he says, “hoped you’d see me for who I am and not what other people say. And you did.”

I look up at him, wondering if he just answered my question. “You’ve never used drugs?”

His shoulders deflate, and he shakes his head. “No.” He sits on the sand and pulls his baseball cap off, running his fingers through his thick hair. “I trusted my dad like no one else. Shouldn’t have, but did. He was the sun, the moon, and the stars to a kid with nothing but a football and big dreams. Then he disappeared.

“After he left, I guess it was easier to hang out with guys who were in the same boat as me. Evan’s dad has been in and out of the slammer, Landon’s parents are divorced several times over, Jake’s mom abandoned him when he was a kid, and the same goes for the rest of my friends.

“We all had screwed-up families. It was easier that way. None of us asked questions. They accepted me for who I was, and I did the same in return. Probably not the brightest way to make friends, but too late to change that now. I wasn’t going to pretend to be something I’m not. And I guess I got used to expecting everyone to see me for who I am without ever opening up to them. Even you.”

I look over, meeting Austin’s gaze.

“I waited for him,” he says with a tight smile and looks away, staring at the ocean instead. “Even after I found out he was in prison, I waited. Checked the mail every day. I don’t know how many times I looked at the stands during a game, hoping someday he’d show.”

The pain in his voice wraps around my heart and squeezes. Austin’s dad never came back. But what if Austin found him? Has he ever tried?

“Kyle started the fight in the grill, Sienna. He may have told you another story, but I swear he’s lying. I’ve never pretended to be something I’m not. Promise.”

My doubts melt little by little, but one uncertainty remains. “Why did you come to the beach house the other day? It’s pretty obvious you picked
that
fight with Kyle.”

Austin’s face is hard to read as he takes a deep breath. “He tried to kill Turbo.”

Every muscle in my face reacts to the shock of his words, and my mouth drops open. “What?”

“I ran into Kyle at The Westin yesterday. I was picking up a couple of things from the restaurant because I quit. I left Turbo outside.”

“Wait, you quit your job? Why?”

Austin’s lips pull into a half smile. “So I can spend more time with you. I should have thought twice about leaving Turbo out there with Kyle, though.”

“Whoa, you’re saying Kyle tried to kill Turbo while you were inside? How?”

“Nuts,” Austin replies.

“Nuts?”

“Yeah, nuts,” he says, and I vaguely remember him telling me how allergic Turbo is. “Kyle had this big thing of chocolate-covered nuts. Peanuts, cashews, whatever.”

“You think Kyle gave some to Turbo?”

“There were pieces of nuts and chocolate all over the cement when I got back, and Turbs was shaking. I found chocolate on his teeth. Took him to the emergency clinic. The vet kept him overnight.”

“Is he okay?” I ask, knowing what this dog means to Austin.

He runs his hands through his hair again, releasing tension from his shoulders as he breathes out. He smiles. “I got the call yesterday morning. He’s going to be okay.”

I exhale. “That’s so good. I’m
so
glad. But, Austin, how do you know Kyle did it on purpose? He’s never even had a dog. He probably has no idea chocolate or nuts are bad for dogs, and he doesn’t know Turbo is super allergic.”

“I told him.”

As hard as it is to believe that Turbo almost died, it’s far more difficult to believe what Austin is accusing Kyle of. I think about everything Kyle told me about Austin, wrestling with conflicting stories. “You told him Turbo was allergic to nuts?”