Rewind to You (12 page)

“She’s even worse at throwing,” Spencer speaks up. “The fish out there catch more of her balls than I can.”

Austin looks to me. “Oh, yeah?”

“Spencer,” I hiss.

I look at Austin and confirm it with a shrug. Austin closes the distance between us. I’m increasingly aware of him—his shower-fresh scent, every curve of muscle and the rise and fall of his chest with every breath—as he stands behind me and wraps his arms around mine.

“I’ll teach you,” he says, his warm breath at my ear seeping in. Whispering a thrill.

His hand cups the back of mine. I watch as he positions my pinkie and ring fingers over the threads and slides my thumb down. “Hold the ball with your fingertips.”

I glance at his face above my shoulder, his blue eyes, strong jaw, and his lips. And suddenly, football is the last thing on my mind.

“Now, lift your arm.”

I clear my throat, concentrating. “Like this?”

“Mm-hm.” His nose brushes through my hair. I take several shallow breaths, my pulse flickering as he smells my hair. “Keep your eye on the target.”

I force myself to focus on Spencer. Since he’s staring at us like he would at a clogged toilet, I remind myself to make him promise not to speak a word of this to Mom.

“Now step into the throw. Put your whole body into it, not just your arm.” Austin practices the motion with me. “Then let the ball roll off your fingertips.”

His body guides my movements. After a few run-throughs of the motion, he tells me to let it fly, and I do. The ball rolls off my fingertips and soars through the air in a perfect spiral, landing in Spencer’s open hands.

“Wow, that was perfect! Definitely my best throw ever. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Austin says.

I giggle.

Spencer clears his throat audibly. “I’m going to go play with friends now. Or maybe to the bathroom to puke.”

I turn. “Which friends?”

“Bobby’s mom is picking me up. Mom said I could go.”

“Don’t let Bobby be mean to you, okay?”

Spencer rolls his eyes, already on his way out of here. “I’ll take that over this.”

I wait for Bobby’s mom to come and see Spencer off. When it’s finally just me and Austin and a few strangers strolling along the beach, I turn to him. “Do you have work today?”

Austin shakes his head.

“All day?”

He grins.

Tossing aside all thoughts of Kyle, my mom, college, and everything else that will make it impossible for me and Austin to be together, I close the gap between us and tug down the rim of his ball cap.

He slips his hands around my waist and pulls me in, the feel of his strong arms around me making my heartbeat flicker. “But first . . .” he says, as though he just remembered something. He turns and jogs away. “Wait here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

CHAPTER 16

Sienna

I
wait, my curiosity getting the best of me. Before long, I spot Austin coming back, a yellow Lab jogging at his heels.

I give the slobbery dog a pat on the head. “So this is Turbo.”

Turbo drools on my toes, and Austin pulls him away. “I’m sorry. He was waiting by the car, and he’s pretty excited about the beach.”

“He’s fine,” I say as though dogs salivate on my toes all the time. I fake confidence as I give Turbo a scratch between his floppy ears. Mom would have dug her own grave if anything hairy or smelly set foot inside our house. Basically, I’ve never had a pet. “Good to meet you, Turbo.”

Turbo barks, and I fly back, startled. My butt hits the sand, and Austin stifles a laugh. Austin gives me a hand up. I whack his arm. “Don’t laugh.”

Turbo dashes off, sniffing the sand and chasing waves. Austin doesn’t relinquish his hold on my hand as we start toward the pier.

“He seems like a good dog,” I say, watching as a toddler in swim trunks chases after Turbo.

“Yeah, he saved my life at least once.”

“Really?”

“There was this one time when I was a kid, walking home through some rough parts of town. It got dark. I got lost. Luckily, Turbo was with me.”

“He knew the way?”

Austin nods. “I saved his life at least once, too, so we’re even.”

“How?”

“It sounds kinda funny now. Freaked me out, though. My mom was cooking with macadamia nuts, and Turbo was cleaning up shop. I knew chocolate was bad for him, but I had no idea about nuts. He ate a bunch of them. Started choking.” Austin falls silent like that’s the end of the story.

“And?”

“Heimlich,” he replies.

“Heimlich? You did the Heimlich maneuver on your dog?”

Austin nods.

“I didn’t even know you could do that on a dog.”

“Neither did I,” he says. “Turbo starting acting weird, shaking like he was going to die. The vet said he almost did die. Most dogs are allergic to nuts and chocolate, stuff like that. But Turbo is deathly allergic.”

“Wow. You saved your dog’s life—that’s, like, heroic.”

“Squeezing a nut out of my dog is hardly heroic.”

The sun overhead beats down on us, painfully hot. Austin must be feeling it, too, because he whips off his shirt, revealing a rippled chest and a bulging, tattooed bicep.

“Is there a story behind that tattoo?” I ask, eyeing the almost abstract swirl of lines that looks something like a bird if you stare at it long enough.

Austin pauses, enough for me to doubt his reply. “Nah.”

“Yeah right!” I say. “Now I really want to know.”

“It was dumb.”

“The best stories start out that way,” I say.

He laughs.

“I’m waiting.”

He rolls his eyes. I don’t relent and Austin finally caves. “All right. So, a buddy of mine from an opposing team made me a bet. If our team won, he’d tattoo our team’s mascot, a lion, on his arm. If his team won, I had to tattoo his team’s mascot on mine.”

My gaze falls to his tattoo again. “A
pigeon
?”

“Pigeon?” he exclaims, going cross-eyed as he does a double take of his own arm. “It’s an eagle!”

I laugh. “
That’s
the story? That’s how you ended up with a bird on your arm?”

Austin heaves a sigh. “Stupid, yeah. I warned you.”

“And you followed through with it,” I say in disbelief. “You lost and then you actually put the bird on your arm.”

Austin looks me square in the eyes. “I gave him my word, didn’t I?”

Actually, I can appreciate such honesty.

“In my defense,” Austin says, “I was a sophomore.”

“Ah, that explains everything.”

“Your beach house—” Austin coughs like he’s trying to change the subject. “It’s . . . nice. Crazy nice.”

I try to downplay it by explaining that it’s my grandpa’s, not ours. However, I end up blathering on about my grandpa and all of the companies he owned, the business he started, and how he helped my dad start up Viva Bella as well—way too much information. Again.

Austin sucks in a breath. “Wow.”

“I know. Sorry to bore you.”

“No, it’s not that.”

I give him a little nudge. “What, then?”

He scratches his head, each muscle along his arm flexing as he does. “I’m just starting to think I’m not good enough for you, Sienna.”

“Yeah right,” I say, hating my big blabbering mouth more than ever. “Well, I think you’re amazing.”

“Yeah, well that makes one of us.”

Although his statement bothers me, I try to imagine what my mom would think of Austin. He’s a boy from the hood, working retail with no plans for the future. Although I disagree, a lot of people, including my mom, would think Austin doesn’t measure up. He knows it. I know it.

He grabs my hand and starts pulling me along at a jog. “C’mon.”

I laugh, barely keeping up as he picks up his pace. “What are you doing?”

“Getting wet!”

He runs into the ocean, pulling me in. Water laps at my feet, and I stop. Austin’s hand slips out of mine as he jogs into the waves.

“C’mon,” he calls out again, but something about the water on my feet keeps me rooted in the sand. I smile tentatively and take a few steps forward until the water covers my ankles. Then my knees. My thighs.

“I’ll be out in a second,” I call to him and smile as though I’m enjoying myself. But something about Austin’s hand slipping away from mine and the water on my skin sent my nerves crawling.

Austin glances back and smiles. Then he puts his hands together and dives beneath the surface. I take a quick breath, feel myself holding it in. A memory flashes through me, grasping a sick feeling buried inside and drawing it out.

I swallow hard, waiting for Austin to resurface. The image of him diving underwater replays in my mind, and time seems to stretch. I tell myself to relax.

Breathe.

I wait half a minute. I start counting slowly from one to ten. Surely he’ll surface by ten. As I scan the restless surface of the ocean my heart makes its presence known, hammering in my chest, my throat, my ears. Eight, nine, ten. Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

“Austin?” I say at first. I raise my voice. “
Austin
?”

I bend closer to the water to see if I can spot him, thinking this isn’t funny. But another chunk of time passes and still no Austin. What’s it been, one, two minutes? More?

Strangling fear takes hold as the rowdy noises of the beach dissipate, replaced by the sound of water caving in through the windshield.

Cold water encompassed me, biting my skin. Rising up my legs, up my arms and chest. Ever rising. The river determined to pull me under. I gasped for my last breath, feeling my dad’s hand at my side as he released my seat belt. He pushed me out and our hands slipped apart. I surfaced. He didn’t.

“Austin?” I scream and dive under to look for him, like I dove under to find my dad that night.

I held my breath and went under for my dad, swimming blindly through the dark river in search of the Jeep I couldn’t find, my lungs screaming for air. Swimming to the surface, I took another deep breath and dove under again, feeling my way until I finally reached something hard and rubber . . . a tire!

I felt my way along the car, frantic. I forced myself not to surface again for air. Time was running out, and time did run out. I never reached my dad.

My head swims as terror seizes every nerve in my body. I swim to the surface of the ocean and gasp for air. The water glistening in the sunshine comes in and out of focus. Cold sweat beads on my skin. It’s happening—again.

Don’t faint. Don’t faint.

I try to picture Austin here, try to pull myself together. I need his arms to catch me. Need him now.

But he needs me, too.

I’m about to dive under again, but it’s coming fast. Can’t stop it.

Don’t fall. Don’t fall.

Veins swelling with adrenaline, I whirl around toward dry land, my legs slowly melting into numbness. A cold breeze sweeps over me and a bright light shrouds my vision. Can’t see a thing. I take one shaky step, then two, fighting to get back to the beach before I faint.

But I don’t make it in time.

CHAPTER 17

Austin

I
swim along the ocean floor, more alive than ever. That’s how it always feels around Sienna.

I spot some cool yellow and black fish. Start to feel the burn in my lungs. I turn toward the sunlight and break through the surface. I shake the water from my hair, wiping my eyes in time to see it happen: Sienna goes limp and sinks beneath the surface.

As her body folds into a wave, I bolt into action. A nanosecond. A quick breath. I dive under, doing exactly what I was trained to do as a lifeguard. But this time, the person I’m saving means something to me, and it leaves my stomach tied in knots.

CHAPTER 18

Sienna

E
verything clears before my eyes, and I see him. Again. I feel a tug at my heartstrings as I look at my dad once more, but mainly I feel baffled. The garden. The boots. The gouge in my shin. Everything is exactly as it was before. Like déjà vu.

My dad eyes my shin and asks if I’m okay. This time I simply nod, trying to remember exactly what happened last time. I smell the apple juice and watch as he takes a long drink. He offers the glass to me. I reach to accept it, but curiosity creeps in. I start to speculate, and I get an idea. Last time, I accepted the glass. That juice was so good, I’m tempted to drink again.

“No thanks,” I say.

My dad smiles and takes another drink. He shifts his gaze toward the sunset. “You know, Sienna, there aren’t too many moments quite like this.”

My heart begins to race. The sunset. Fresh apple juice. The dirt on my tongue. The pain in my leg. Although logic fights against it, I’m almost certain: I’m not only standing in this garden, I’m standing in a prior time. I’m reliving a moment that’s already passed.

How could this be? My body is in Savannah. Now I’m in Virginia? And this moment happened a year ago, the day of the accident. I’ve graduated high school, and above all, my dad is dead. I’ve always believed in heaven, but not like this. Heaven shouldn’t be this painful. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m not dead. I’ve seen him like this twice now and woken up both times.

What is this then? A vision? Am I insane? Going crazy? Very possible, but . . .

No.

It’s clear to me now, even though it doesn’t make sense. I’m here, really here.

And I have the power to say whatever I want.

“Let’s make a pact,” Dad says, and I recall what’s coming next. “Let’s remember it, okay? This moment. And when times get rough, we can rewind to this moment—”

Rewind to this moment.
That’s exactly what we’ve done. “Dad,” I cut him off, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes.
Don’t let me drive the Jeep. Don’t let us take the Powhite Parkway Bridge! Skip the fireworks altogether
. . . I’m desperate to tell him, to warn him. Anything that will keep him from that crash!

But white specks flitter across my vision, and my dad becomes a blur before I get a chance. I fight against it, aching to change the past.