Rewind to You (27 page)

Then I see him.

He’s standing beside the beach house, his motorcycle parked behind him.

“Austin,” I say, surprised. As I draw near, I note the way he stands, his hands jammed in his pockets. His gaze holds mine with an intensity that puts my pulse on hold. In his eyes, I see pain. And something else. I stop at the invisible barrier that keeps us apart.

“Is it true?” he asks, his expression firm. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

I glance away, my voice trapped inside my throat. The wind picks up, a gentle breeze that sweeps up the scent of the ocean. I take in a slow breath, realizing how much I’ll miss things like this: sunrises on Tybee, the call of a blue heron in the morning, and even the muggy summer air. But most of all I’ll miss Austin, his voice, his smell, his touch, even simply looking at him like I am now.

My throat swells. “Yeah, it’s true.” I don’t bother asking how he already knows I’m leaving; it will only prolong the inevitable.

He looks away, the muscles in his jaw flexing.

“We have to move everything out of our house by the first week of August,” I explain.

“Where will you live?”

“The Prices have a second home they usually rent out.”

He exhales behind tight lips. “The Prices, huh?”

“Come on, Austin, my mom has nowhere to go.”

“Was any of this real?”

“What do you mean?”

“Us,” he says. “Was any of this real, or was it just a summer fling?”

“Austin, of course it was real.” I breach the unseen barrier, lifting my arm to hold his face in my hand. “It
is
real,” I assure him, his reaction tearing at something within me. He rests his head ever so slightly against my palm and takes in a deep breath. He exhales, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into a tight hug.

I hang on, don’t want to let go.

“Here, I’ve got something for you,” I say. I hand the present to him as well as the T-shirt I’ve worn every night for the past month.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “You didn’t wash it, did you?”

I laugh. “No, actually, I didn’t have time.”

“Good. You know you can keep it, right?”

“It’s yours, and so is this.” I gesture to the present. We sit down side by side on the sand, and he peels away the wrapping. Watching him closely, I find the look on his face I was hoping for when he sees the baseball cap.

“You know me well,” he says with an unbearably cute smile. He turns the blue and orange hat over in his hands.

“If you’re going to be a Florida Gator, I figure you ought to look like one.” I snag the cap and pull it on his head, draw him in, and kiss him.

“Thank you,” he whispers against my lips and kisses me back. I note the taste of his lips, the feel of his breath against mine. How do you say good-bye?

I reach into my pocket and pull out a slip of paper. “I wrote my home and college addresses down for you. I’ll be at our home in Richmond for the rest of July. After that I’ll be at my college address.” I leave out the part about Brittney’s wedding on August first, because now is definitely not the time to bring that up.

Austin takes the paper and stares at it, his expression unreadable.

“And I have one more surprise for you,” I add, finally coming to the part I’ve been looking forward to the most. I’m so nervous, I suddenly wonder if this is a good idea.

“What is it?” he asks.

At last, I hand it to him, a second piece of paper with a different name and address on it. My nerves rattle as I wait. He holds the paper, his face folding as he reads it. I wait for what feels like forever, unable to suppress the smile on my face.

“Hyrum Dobbs?” he finally says—part question, part statement.

“I found him, Austin,” I say, unable to contain it any longer. “I found your dad!”

Another silent pause suffocates the air between us. “You—wait a minute—you
what
?”

“I found him.”

“Why?”

“Well, I thought we could meet him. I mean, I really wanted to. Austin, he lives on St. Simons Island, that little town where we met with that professor! I wish I could go with you. I thought we’d have more time. But I wanted to give this to you anyway.”

“You thought I could meet back up with him, huh?” he says, staring at the paper with a cold glare. The look on his face brings my enthusiasm to a halt.

I swallow. “It’s been so long since you’ve seen him. I just feel bad for you.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Austin—”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“Austin, I—”

“You what?” His sharp voice paralyzes me. “You thought he and I could be friends again, and all my problems would be solved? Is that what this is about? Maybe if I reconnected with my past, I’d become the good boy I never was, and then I’d fit into your perfect little mold?”

“I don’t have a perfect mold!”

“Your mom does! We both know that.”

“Austin, I was just trying to help.”

“Help what? Erase everything that happened? Well, you know what? Life happened, Sienna, and it made me who I am.”

He stands, sand kicking up as he turns to leave.

“And I like who you are,” I insist, standing and yanking him around to look at me. “Austin, you don’t need to change a thing. That’s not what this is about. I’m sorry I even did this. I was just trying to do something nice.”

His expression softens a little. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . How did you even find him?”

“Brian’s super good with computers and looking stuff up,” I begin.

Austin rolls his eyes. “Is that what you did every day while I was at work, hang out with Brian, your future fiancé? Or is that Kyle?”

“What?” My voice spikes. “Where is this coming from?”

“Did you break up with Kyle?”

Yes
, I’m about to say, but I hesitate, remembering my last words to Kyle over the phone. I said good-bye and hung up, envisioning that as the end. But now I see that it wasn’t exactly a clean break. Kyle could easily have misinterpreted my intentions.

Austin watches my contemplation and takes it as my answer. “That’s great.” Sarcasm saturates his remark.

“Austin, I—I mean, Kyle knows—”

“Right,” Austin says and turns to leave.

I snag his arm, pulling him around again. “Wait.”

“
Why?
” the word roars past his lips. “Why do you stay with him? Do you love him?”

I’m so taken aback at Austin’s raised voice, I’m speechless. I dig for the answers to his questions, but I come up short on a reply, and it occurs to me what an insufferable people pleaser I am. Always doing exactly what will make everyone else happy, never wanting to hurt anyone. But there’s one major problem with that: I can’t please my mom, Kyle, and Austin all at the same time. Let alone myself.

I still don’t want to hurt any of them, and I never will. However, now I realize doing the right thing means following your heart regardless of what others think.

My cell phone vibrates to life in my pocket, and “Boom Boom Pow” rings out, Kyle’s ringtone, snatching my thoughts back to the disastrous reality of what’s happening. My heart drops when I look up at Austin.

“You’re still with him,” Austin says. A statement, not a question.

I’m about to shake my head, but Austin’s hand touches mine, and I realize he’s twisting Kyle’s ring around my finger.

I see everything play out in my mind in broken fragments I’ll never be able to mend. I can’t turn back the clock and break it off for good with Kyle, just as I can’t go back and change something as simple as remembering to take Kyle’s ring off my finger. I see it in Austin’s eyes. It’s too late.

“No, Austin. No.”

“He’s calling you right now, Sienna.”

“I won’t answer.”

“But what about tomorrow and the next day?” Austin asks. “What about this fall when you’re at college with him?”

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Austin. Me and you, this fall—we can make it work.”

“Can we?” I hear the warning in his voice, the doubt that is so unlike him, and it scares me. His lips pull to one side, not really a smile at all, just an ironic little quirk of the mouth. “You’re still wearing his ring, Sienna.”

“No, Austin, it’s not like that.”

“You’re still going out with that jerk, even though he lies to you,” he says, his lips pulling into a tight seam.

“What?”

“I saw him!” he shouts with no regard to the people within earshot walking along the beach. “I saw him making out with some girl after that football game, and he practically admitted she wasn’t the only one. He’s a liar, Sienna. He lied about that fight at the grill just like he lied to you about Turbo. He’s been lying to you all along!”

I step away, his anger pushing me back. I recall what Kyle said about Austin, how someday I’d press the right button, and he’d snap. But then my conversation with Lindsey battles this thought. She wished Austin had ranted and raved when they split, because it would have meant he really loved her.

“I would never do that to you!” he says, the desperation in his voice squeezing my heart. “Do you realize what you are, what you deserve? Kyle doesn’t love you, not like I do. He never will.”

I stare at him, my mouth dry. It hits me deep in the gut, the realization of how much I’ve messed everything up. A knot wells up inside my throat, so big that I can hardly choke out a reply. My lips barely form the words. “I’m so sorry. I’ll—”

“You know what, don’t apologize.” Austin shoves the apology back at me.

I was about to tell him I’d make this all right. Somehow. Now I’m speechless. This was something I thought I loved about Austin: There’s never a need to apologize. If I tried, he wouldn’t hear of it. But I finally see the truth.

Austin truly doesn’t want to see his dad ever again. He hates apologies because he doesn’t want to forgive. Trust me, I’ve been there. Back when Landon and Evan were spitting out their reluctant confession, their lame condolences. I didn’t want to hear it.

And Austin doesn’t want to hear any of this. He’s been patient with me—so patient—like he patiently waited for his dad all those years. Before he hit his limit.

Just as I think Austin has hit his limit with me, too, his eyelids close and he exhales. When his blue eyes show themselves again, all emotion is wiped clean from them. His hands gently cup my face, and our gazes collide for one precarious moment before his lips touch mine. He kisses me in a way he never has before. It’s soft and sad.

Our lips part slowly, his hands preserving their hold on my face, the touch comforting.

Austin’s arms drop abruptly to his sides and he turns, jarring me back to reality. He walks away and straddles his motorcycle. Firing up the engine, he heaves a deep breath and drives off without a backward glance. I watch him from behind, clinging to the taste of Austin Dobbs and his soul-shattering kiss on my lips, wanting to hold on and never let go. Because I know. I understand.

There was no promise of
until next time
in that kiss. As I watch Austin’s figure fade gradually into the distance, I realize that kiss meant
good-bye
.

I pack my bags in denial. I lie awake all night. When the glow of daylight breaks the darkness, I sit up. My bedroom is spotless, my luggage lined up by the door, everything packed except two items. I spent most of the night trying not to stare at them, the shoes Austin bought for me on River Street and the palm-leaf flower he made. I grab my cell and send a quick text. It’s 6:03 a.m. I’ll have barely enough time before we leave.

I wait for twenty-five painful minutes with no reply from Austin. Finally, I make my bed and sneak out through the patio door. When I reach the pier, I check my phone again. He will come. He always does. This is our meeting spot. I text, he comes. He texts, I come.

Crossing my arms, I hold myself together and watch my last sunrise on Tybee. Once I’m back in Virginia, I’ll pack up and say good-bye to my childhood home forever. Not even that compares to leaving this.

Meet me by the pier?

Anything more would have been lame coming as a text. No, I need to see him. Speak with him face-to-face.

I wait.

A sailboat glides over the water, seagulls chirp as they dance through the sky, and sand trickles over my flip-flops. I wait, almost hearing the sound of his footsteps behind me as my mind plays tricks. I wait, aching to fix this. I wait, and I wait, and I wait until I finally accept the hard truth.

This time, Austin isn’t coming.

One month was all it took. I learned how love can take away the pain, fill every hollow ache. Now I’ve learned that love can turn around and rip your mended heart into a thousand pieces all over again. Austin is gone. No more
until next time.

The ocean blurs before me. I blink my eyes, aware of the wetness behind my eyelids, a feeling I’ve almost forgotten. Tears flood my eyes and pour down my face. Tears I haven’t cried in over a year. Tears that leave me weak. Even so, I resist the temptation to wipe them away.

I make my way to the beach house and sink onto the steps, staring at the sand that has been just as beaten up by the waves of life as I have. The breeze dries my tears, leaving my cheeks cold and salty. I’m not sure which is worse: having lost a love like no other, or knowing it was my fault.

The back door opens slowly. I feel my mom’s presence as she sits down. She sets her kale juice down. Her arm wraps around me. She rubs my shoulder.

“It’s hard to let go of something that feels so good,” she offers, apparently understanding exactly what I’m crying about.

“I don’t want to let go,” I say. The sobbing sound in my throat is so foreign. It reminds me of the mess I was after my dad died. Austin filled those empty spots in my heart. Now he’s left them vacant. And I resent him for it. I was better off when the tears wouldn’t come. At least I felt strong then. The idea plays in my mind that perhaps I was better off without him.

“But you know, don’t you, honey?” Mom says. “You know it’s best this way.”

My lips tremble. I keep them sealed, hating the idea that maybe she’s right.

“Sweetie, there are plenty of other fish in the sea. Take my advice and find one who is more suitable for you.”