Echoes Between Us

by Katie McGarry

  A comforting touch on my shoulder and Sawyer brushes his fingers lightly along my arm. Pleasing goose bumps form, and I shiver.

  “We’re okay.” He misreads my reaction. It’s shocking how in control and calm he sounds. “I’ve been in worse positions than this.”

  My head snaps up. “You’ve what?”

  “Do you have your cell?” he asks as if I haven’t spoken.

  My hand goes for my back pocket and my fingers twitch. It’s up top and not with me. Now, I panic. “This is bad, this is—”

  “We’re fine. I could swim my way out of this, but you don’t swim, and that’s easily a fifteen-foot drop into deep water. I’ve heard about this river and it doesn’t run shallow for another couple of miles. How’s your upper body strength?”

  For the first time in my life, I wish I would have done a chin-up.

  Reading my expression, Sawyer tilts his head then rubs my arm again as if saying my lack of strength doesn’t bother him. He tests the area near where we fell and the dirt gives. Pebbles and earth plummet down the side then start to rain on me. My blood pumps wildly as my arms shoot up to cover my head. I’m going to be knocked down by a boulder and drown.

  Heat and solid warmth as Sawyer wraps his body around mine, gathering me into his chest. He uses his shoulders and head as a shield. I take in a deep breath, and I’m consumed with his scent. It’s a comforting combination of a pool and a sweet, dark smell. I keep breathing slowly in and out as I listen to the pebbles and rocks continue to slip and slide and bounce down the rock wall.

  When the downfall halts, Sawyer straightens and I’m confused by how unfazed he is, whereas I feel as if I could literally vibrate out of my skin. Sawyer stares down at me, not blinking, and the reality of our situation is written plainly all over his face: we have to jump. “There’s no going up.”

  Fear dries my mouth out. Death, I’m not afraid of. Dying by drowning—I’ll admit—scares the crap out of me. “I told you, I can’t swim.”

  “But I can. In fact, it’s about the only thing I’m good at, besides math. If we jump, I’ll hold your hand, and I won’t let go when we hit the water. I’ll help you reach the surface. Once we do, I’m going to have to let you go for a second and then I’m going to come up behind you. I’ll put an arm underneath your arms and then you’ll need to trust me enough to let go of your body to float. I’ll get us to the other side, okay?”

  “No.”

  “We’re on a deserted road at nightfall with no cell phones. Give me our other options, and I’ll give those a try.”

  My eyes flit from the shoreline on the other side that now looks a mile away to the cliff wall behind us that’s impossible to climb. Truth—maybe we could climb it, but if we fail and I fall, I’ll drown. At least by jumping, Sawyer will be holding on to me.

  Another deep breath in. I’m not a coward. I never have been, and I won’t start now. Go big or go home, right? Or is it go big so I can go home?

  Defiant of my fate, I raise my chin. “Okay. We jump.”

  “As soon as you hit the water, kick your legs. That will help with keeping you from going deeper. Hold your breath, and I need you to fight any panic that will set in. Your instincts are going to scream for you to do everything it takes to survive. You’ll be desperate to find something solid and then push down on it to keep you up. That solid thing is going to be me. Don’t grab on to me, and if you do, don’t fight me and don’t push me down. When I take hold of you, just go with it and then do everything I tell you to do. Trust me to get you to safety.”

  He extends his hand to me palm up. I hesitate before placing my fingers in his and stare straight into his eyes. “I swear to God, if you let me drown I will haunt you until the day you die, and I will be the nastiest ghost you’ve ever met.”

  His eyes dance, like he’s amused, like he’s looking forward to what’s about to happen. “Promise?”

  “You’re crazy, aren’t you?” I say.

  “Yes. Now let’s jump.”

  SAWYER

  Veronica places her hand in mine, and it’s warm and soft. The softest skin I’ve ever touched. I rub my thumb over the top of her hand, and she squeezes my fingers. Something in my chest moves, and it’s a light feeling, the tiptoeing of wings. This jump scares the hell out of her. It’s there in the back of her eyes, but she holds herself as if she can take on the world and win. She’s strong, she’s courageous, and for some reason, she’s trusting me.

  “Jump out,” I say, “away from the rocks.”

  “Okay.”

  “On the count of three,” I say. “One … two…”

  “Three,” she says, and I have to move quick as she makes the leap of faith.

  The fall is electrifying. It’s too short, but the thrill of the complication of doing it with someone else creates that rush that I crave. We hit the water and the current is faster than I thought. Veronica’s hand becomes slick, her grip loosening as she panics. She drifts away from me, and the pull of the racing river threatens to tear her away.

  I kick. She’s kicking and I open my eyes. There’s nothing in the dark water. Veronica’s body jerks, she starts to become deadweight, and holding on to her tightly, I fight for the surface. I break free, gulp in air, and automatically tread water as I yank her up.

  Veronica emerges, and she takes in an audible gasp then coughs as if choking. She’s kicking too fast, not in a rhythm and her arms are slapping at the water. I let go of her wrist, her eyes pop open and she thrashes as the terror of going back under takes over.

  Her body starts down again, but I go under the water, swim behind her, and surface while slipping my arms under her armpits. “Veronica! I have you.”

  Veronica’s legs stop kicking, but her arms continue to flail. Treading water with only my legs, I turn her to the shoreline and in the last seconds of daylight, she calms at the sight of our destination. “I’m going to remove one arm and wrap it around your waist. Then I want you to float with me as I swim us to shore.”

  “I can’t float,” she says.

  “That’s weird because you seem to be doing a good job of it now. Just keep doing what you’re doing. If you think you need to help me swim, don’t. The water is going to keep you buoyant, plus I’m strong enough to get us both to shore.”

  Using a side stroke, I fight the swift current and swim. The moment my feet hit ground, I stand, help Veronica to her feet then keep an arm around her as she staggers out of the river. We reach the grass, and Veronica collapses to the ground.

  Her wet hair is plastered to her face, and she shivers as she leans back against the trunk of a tree. The night is warm, the breeze cool and while my juices are flowing, Veronica appears exhausted.

  “Thank you,” she says, and the sincerity in her eyes causes me to look away.

  “Thank you for trusting me. Besides, you did the hard part. It takes a massive amount of control to suppress thousands of years of survival instincts. Most people would have tried to push me down to keep themselves up. You kept your cool in a hard situation.”

  “How are you so calm?” There’s awe in her expression, and I don’t deserve it.

  “It’s not calm, it’s stupidity,” I say then, switch the subject because I don’t want to linger on that topic. I’m ashamed that I like the adrenaline high I’m currently experiencing, especially since that high scared her so much. And I’m even more ashamed that I want to do it again. “I guess we’re going to have to cross the ghost bridge to head home.”

  Her forehead furrows. “You don’t want to leave now, do you?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Veronica’s eyes glint, an adventurous spark that speaks to my soul. Her reckless smile follows suit, and I’m officially on board for whatever she has planned. “No way. This place is definitely haunted. We’re staying and we’re investigating.”

  VERONICA

  My jeans are wet, my T-shirt is soaked, but the worst part is my soggy shoes. My feet squish in my socks, and I contemplate t
aking them off as Sawyer and I walk through the thick forest for the bridge.

  “What do you mean this place is definitely haunted?” Sawyer asks.

  The glance I throw him is incredulous. “Seriously? We almost died. Several people have died here. Do you think that’s coincidence?”

  “What are you suggesting?” Sawyer is as drenched as I am, but he seems more comfortable than me in our current saturated state.

  “That the bridge, the river, maybe an entity of some sort, wanted us to fall.”

  “I think we’ve had a lot of rain this summer and that loosened the ground where you sat, and I don’t think we were anywhere close to death.”

  A disagreeing pssh leaves my mouth and that causes Sawyer to smirk. It’s crazy, but the cocky swimmer boy has been growing on me by the day. So much so that I look forward to every adorable, arrogant smile and his self-assured quips.

  We reach the road and the bridge looms before us. The half-moon’s light creates an eerie haze over the roof of the bridge and only highlights the black void we must cross to reach Sawyer’s car, our cell phones and hopefully the recorder. A cool breeze drifts over my arms, but that isn’t what’s causing my skin to prick. There’s a growing uneasiness in my blood, and a voice inside me screams to run.

  “Do you feel it?” I whisper as my chest compresses with an invisible pressure.

  “Like a serial killer is waiting for us in the middle of the bridge? Yeah.”

  Surprised by his admission, I glance over at him. “So you agree this place is haunted?”

  “No. We’re in the middle of nowhere. When we had light, I didn’t properly check the bridge. There might be some deranged hermit who lives in the bridge for shelter, and it’s really going to piss me off if I have to punch him in the jaw because he touches you.”

  I roll my eyes. “It must suck to not believe in anything.”

  “I believe in things.”

  “Like?”

  “Things. Are we crossing the bridge or what?”

  “Oh, we’re crossing.” Definitely crossing. I start forward for the dark opening and Sawyer’s right beside me. So close that his arm brushes mine. “If you don’t believe, then why are you scared?”

  “I’m not scared,” he says.

  “I think you are. I think you’re walking close to me because you need me to protect you from the big, bad monsters.”

  “You’re right. I was actually considering using you as a human shield for the serial killer. Or I could be close because we’re crossing a wooden bridge that was built over a hundred years ago. The back deck at my old house barely stayed together after two years. So maybe if the termite-eaten boards beneath us crack, I can grab you before you fall through to the river.”

  That thought causes my heart to beat faster, especially when the boards beneath us do creak with our weight. I have no intentions of going into that river again. “People drive their cars that weigh thousands of pounds over this bridge.”

  “People also do meth, but I don’t recommend it.”

  I breathe in deeply as we pass the halfway point of the bridge, and the scent is of the wood. The only sound is the tapping of our shoes against the planks and the rushing water below. I glance wildly around, but I don’t see anything—just blackness.

  Sawyer’s not touching me, but I sense his solid presence beside me. As if the heat of his body has the ability to reach out and envelop me in a protective hug. It’s odd because while fear creeps along the back of my neck and I sense the impending hazards around us and spirits lurking in the shadows watching us with curiosity, I also feel protected. As if Sawyer is a natural shield against the dangers of the supernatural world.

  A loud snap behind us, I jump and glance over my shoulder. Sawyer snakes his fingers around my wrist and holds on to me.

  “Hello?” I call out as I edge toward the safety of the exit. There’s another tapping. Like footsteps and Sawyer pulls on my wrist, encouraging me to move faster.

  “It’s probably an animal,” Sawyer says.

  “Maybe.” But I don’t believe that. “But animals don’t make that type of sound when they walk. We need to get that recorder.”

  * * *

  Sawyer knows how to make a fire, and I’m impressed. He mentioned something about having remnants of stuff in the car left over from a camping trip with friends over the summer, but bonfire building without gasoline isn’t nearly as easy as one would think. While he gathered sticks and kindling, I kept it to myself that Jesse taught me how to build a fire before I was fifteen. I wanted to see if Sawyer would succeed, and keeping with the theme for the day, he has surprised me once again.

  Near the fire, Sawyer is examining the camera he discarded when he jumped down the rocks after me. It doesn’t appear worse for wear, and I’m relieved when he points the camera at the fire and it flashes with the shot.

  “Do you think it’s legal to build a bonfire near a covered bridge?” I ask.

  We’re not right next to the bridge, but closer to his parked car in a clearing of the woods. “Probably not, but are you going to tell?”

  “Nope.” I’m a bit disappointed. I’ve been asking questions into the recorder for the past half hour, and when I’ve played back the audio, not a single ghost has talked to me.

  I walk back to the bridge and step inside. Sawyer’s watching me from the fire. His serious expression tells me he’s ready to leap to his feet and save me from the river again if the need should arise. He raises the camera to his face and takes another picture of me.

  I turn on the recorder again and say, “What’s your name?” I stay silent, giving the ghost time to respond, and then say, “Are the two teens who went into the river in their car here?”

  More silence and then I turn off the recorder. Still wet from our wild ride down the hill and into the water, I shiver with the cooling night air. I head back to the fire and sit next to Sawyer so I can watch the bridge. Hopefully, we’ll see ghost headlights.

  “How did you do it?” I ask, as I can’t stop replaying what happened. “How did you remain so calm and how were you able to think so clearly?”

  “I don’t know.” Sawyer tries to readjust his still damp shirt, and when it doesn’t do what he wants, he yanks it over his head. My cheeks grow warm at the sight of his chest—his very, very beautiful, muscled chest. I comb my fingers through my hair to try to dry my curls and to distract myself. Yet my gaze drifts over to him again.

  Stop it. My friends are fit. Leo is fit. I see them without their shirts all the time. This isn’t anything new. This is just a guy. A guy who called me weird. A guy who has ignored me for years … a guy I text daily. Not only text daily, but eagerly await our flirty banter. A guy who makes me laugh even when my head is hurting. A guy who seems to want to make me laugh in those painful times. A guy who looks in my eyes as if I’m the only person in the room and not at my skull as if he’s trying to see what’s wrong with me. A guy who risked his life to save mine.

  But that doesn’t have anything to do with how I watch him as he stands and drapes his shirt over the low branch of a tree. I’m entranced by the way his shoulder blades stretch as he reaches up and with how each movement pronounces another way his body is glorious.

  Maybe I hit my head and I’m concussed. That has to be what’s going on. Yet I still don’t glance away. Not even when Sawyer turns and catches me openly gaping. He raises an eyebrow, and that cocky, lopsided grin grows. God, help me, I smile with him.

  “Can I help you with anything?” he tauntingly asks.

  “You have to be aware you’re beautiful,” I say. “And I know for a fact I’m not the first girl to notice.”

  “Maybe. But I like you noticing.”

  I overtly roll my eyes. “Because you like the attention.”

  “No, because it’s you.” His grin moves from cocky to adorable. The warmth in my cheeks spreads to my chest and butterflies flutter their wings along my rib cage.

  Sawyer settles next to me again, cl
oser this time. So close that when he exhales his arm touches mine, and I can hardly breathe with this strange, building excitement.

  We stare at the flames dancing in the night and watch as the popping embers shoot toward the stars. We’re silent, but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, it’s so comfortable that I don’t want it to end.

  A tickling touch near the crook of my elbow and my pulse kicks up a notch at the sight of Sawyer’s finger slowly tracing a freckle on my skin.

  “It looks like a tiny kitten,” he murmurs.

  I laugh because it does. He circles the spot again, and I wish I had the courage to look at him and see what he’s thinking. To see if he finds me as attractive as I find him, but I stare at my arm instead. What would I do if his blue eyes had that heavy hooded expression of desire?

  Kiss him. It’s a whisper in my ear, a caress along my skin. A wish, a hope, a temptation.

  Good God, kissing Sawyer Sutherland. I bet he’d be an excellent kisser.

  “I didn’t know freckle imagery was a thing,” I say, and my voice is softer than normal.

  “It should be. Would you like me to decipher any more on you?”

  I laugh louder this time as he waggles his eyebrows. “You’re funny.”

  “So are you. I like being around you, Veronica. A lot.”

  Me, too. “You can call me V, if you’d like. That’s what my friends call me.”

  His eyes stray away from mine to my lips. “I can, but I like Veronica. It suits you.”

  I blush, he notices and we both look away as if we’re unsure middle-schoolers at a dance.

  He clears his throat. “Plus, I’m not interested in being like everyone else.”

  Neither am I. Because of that, I tackle this head-on. “Is this as awesomely weird for you as it is for me?”