Several minutes stretch out. A few people walk along the beach, watching the sunrise over the ocean. More time passes and the realization seeps in. Sienna isn’t coming. She’s Kyle’s girlfriend, not mine. Perhaps nothing these past few weeks was real.
“Austin!”
I turn and see her. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“You love to be mysterious, don’t you?”
She smiles, but it doesn’t last long. “I mean, I really am sorry, Austin.”
Dread settles in. It’s over. Sienna and I are done. Kyle is everything I’m not. There he sat in all his brand-name glory next to two successful parents. Seeing him last night reminded me of all the ways in which I’m not good enough for Sienna. I have a shoddy past at best, and a slim shot at any kind of a future. Kyle has the world at his fingertips.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she says. “I’m sorry all of this is even happening. It’s not fair to you. You must hate me.” She looks up as if asking forgiveness.
What, does she expect me to throw this all behind me and sweep her into my arms? Just like that?
Her big brown eyes look into mine, her pleading gaze eating at my resistance. “I’m so sorry, Austin,” she says, almost breathless.
Being this close to her after so long is making me sort of breathless, too. Cursing my weak resolve, I pull her into my arms. “I could never hate you.”
I convince myself it won’t last, Sienna and Kyle. By the end of the weekend it will be over between them.
She sighs. “Austin, last night I—”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“But—”
“I trust you,” I say, cutting her short. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the rest of the sentence. Besides, I do trust her more than I’ve trusted anyone. Only an idiot would fully trust the friends I’ve hung with, I never trusted my mom’s lies, and my dad crushed any confidence I had in him the day he disappeared.
“Do you work today?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“No?” The way her face lights up makes me feel like the richest guy on earth. I’m toast. Cupid sank his arrow deep when I fell for this girl.
“My mom’s in town so I took the day off,” I explain.
“That’s right! Your uncle told me she was coming. I want to meet her!”
“What, now?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Kyle?” I ask, a hard shove of jealousy pushing the question out of me.
“He’s golfing thirty-six holes with his dad today. He won’t be back until late this afternoon.”
I nod. All right, her explanation wasn’t what I’d hoped. But what can I expect? It’s not like she called him during the night and broke it off.
Instinct tells me I should demand an answer about her and Kyle. But something changed last night. Thoughts of calling Sienna in the morning and breaking up with her ruined any shot I had of sleeping. It would be easier that way, I kept telling myself. But somewhere during the night, the Austin who used to break relationships off without a second thought changed. At least I’m different when it comes to this one girl, and it sort of scares me. I fear that no matter what Sienna does, I’ll love her forever.
“We’re having a cookout at noon. Wanna come?”
“Is that okay?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“Great.” Sienna takes my hand and starts for my motorcycle. “I have some questions I need to ask you.”
CHAPTER 32
Sienna
Austin steals a look at me from the kitchen counter. He finishes garnishing some scalloped potatoes, listening patiently as his mom reminds him of the correct way to peel and mince a garlic clove. A shy smile and a weak handshake was all Austin’s mom offered me, and her husband is no different. Austin’s stepdad sits on a lawn chair in a corner of the backyard, watching Turbo run in circles.
“Hey.” Austin takes a seat next to me on the patio and then lowers his voice to a whisper. “Sorry this is kind of boring.”
I glance at Debbie and Mark, who are arguing over the best heat setting on the grill, a comical pair as always. “It’s not boring at all.”
He laughs.
I look at Austin, his tall, strong build and ocean blue eyes, deciding he must have taken after his dad. His mom and stepdad are midgets compared to him. I also can’t picture his mom befriending everyone in a city she’s lived in for only one year like Austin has. “You’re going to miss your mom this fall.”
One side of his lips curves up. “Actually, I’m pretty excited to be on my own.”
“You’ll miss her more than you think,” I say.
“What makes you say that?”
I gesture to his mom, who is shuffling around the kitchen. “Just watching you two and the way you talk to your mom about cooking.”
Austin smiles. I recall the detailed instructions she gave him on slicing potatoes, the way she showed me how to roll a lemon on the counter before squeezing it to make lemonade. “You listened to her like you were hanging on her every word.”
He makes a guilty face. “I’m glad my act was convincing. She is a great mom. She did her best anyway.”
I watch him, willing him to go on.
“She took it pretty hard, you know, when my dad left.” Austin keeps his voice level, his expression void of emotion. “Although, to tell you the truth, I think she was kind of relieved.”
I try to keep my mouth shut, to let him do the talking. Here it is. At last. His dad left, but where did he go? Could Kyle possibly be right? When I get the sense that Austin’s about to change the subject, I press him for more. “Was it rough on you?”
Austin makes a motion, barely a nod. He glances at Turbo, who’s panting beneath the shade of an oak tree. “My dad gave Turbo to me on my ninth birthday.”
I watch Turbo scratching his yellow fur, his tongue hanging out. No wonder Austin loves that dog so much.
“That’s, like, the only thing I remember about him,” he says. “I’m pretty sure my mom is glad I don’t remember anything else. She hasn’t talked about him since.”
“Never?”
Austin shakes his head. “She didn’t want me to know.” He glances over, noticing my expectant stare. “My dad went to prison for drug abuse, Sienna.”
It’s true. Confirmed. Kyle was right. But it’s not like I can judge Austin by what his dad did, right? His dad didn’t go to jail for abuse or murder; it’s not like Austin inherited some vicious gene, making him a violent person like Kyle accused him of being. I mean, drugs are everywhere. Kyle always laughed at how naive I am. The word drugs was blacked out in my mental dictionary, something I pledged to just say no to when the D.A.R.E. officer came to my elementary school class.
But this reminds me: I have questions. Jake Braham was Austin’s friend, the guy who went to juvie. Now I’m finding out that Austin’s dad went to prison because of drugs, too.
“Believe it or not,” Austin says, “my mom never told me outright, but you live in a place long enough and people around you talk.”
“You figured it out on your own, that your dad was in prison?”
“Yep. I told Mom after school one day. I told her that I knew where Dad was.”
“What did she say?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Austin replies. “Just nodded once and then finished making dinner. That was it. We never talked about it again. I’m pretty sure she still secretly hopes I don’t know about my dad’s drug problems. Now you see why I’m here, in Savannah.”
“Not really.”
Mark walks up then, and we both fall silent. “Soda?” he says, and tosses Austin a can. “One for you, Sienna?”
“No, thank you.”
Austin nods in thanks as Mark heads inside.
“A week before I came here,” Austin continues, “one of my friends got caught with drugs.”
I’m relieved I didn’t have to bring it up. “I still don’t
see what that has to do with why you came to Savannah.”
“I was in the car with him when he got caught.”
At last, it all clicks. “Your mom was scared for you,” I say, and Austin confirms it with a sideways glance. “She sent you here to get you away from your friends?”
Turbo hobbles up the stairs and nestles into Austin’s leg, looking hot and tired. I watch Austin’s mom cross the backyard to sit with her husband, the mom who shares very little in common with her son. For the first time I see Turbo for what he is, the dog who saved a little boy in more ways than one.
“Have you ever?” I leave the question at that, feeling my voice tangle inside my throat. Just how much of his dad does Austin have in him?
Austin searches my eyes. “Have I ever used drugs?”
I nod.
He leans in with a curious and even amused grin as he lifts a brow. “What do you think?”
Crap. Why couldn’t he have answered yes or no? I recall my first impression of Austin when we met on River Street. He was decent, sweet, and seemingly too good to be true. Yet there was always something else about him, a flash of danger in his eyes, a competitive instinct.
And now? Now I know him. I know the Austin behind the tattoo and the rough edges, and I see exactly what I saw when I first laid eyes on him.
“I’d guess you haven’t,” I say.
A smile tugs one corner of Austin’s lips. I wait for him to confirm my assumption.
“I used to wait for him,” he says instead, and I gather we’re talking about his dad again. “I used to look up at the bleachers during every game, waiting for the day I’d see him there.” Austin opens his soda, takes a sip, and shrugs. “Who knows where he is now. Out of prison and probably back on dope. I don’t care if he ever comes back.”
A tender nerve twists in my heart. Could he possibly mean that? I would give anything to see my dad, and yet Austin never wants to see his again. At least that’s what he says.
“Lunch is served!” Debbie flashes a smile.
Austin extends his hand to help me up. “Lunch?”
I check my cell for the time.
“And then you’d better get back, right?” he says. “Just in case.”
I accept his hand and stand. “My mom told me Spencer and I will be packing our bags for home if I mess anything up with Kyle this weekend.” I skip over the part about her slapping me across the face.
Austin’s eyebrows pull together. “I take it she’s not the type to throw out ultimatums she doesn’t mean.”
“No.”
He shakes his head, no doubt thinking how crazy my mom can be. “Then you’d better not mess up, because I’m counting on your being here at least until the end of July.”
My fingers slip between his. I still haven’t asked him about Kyle’s arm. Still, I feel better after discussing his dad and the drugs. But feeling better about Austin only makes me more confused about Kyle, and I know this has to end. I can’t love them both.
“That stuff will kill you, you know,” I tease as Austin drinks his soda, sounding too much like my mom. “I’m kidding. Forget I said that.”
Austin winks as he tosses his unfinished can into the trash nonetheless, and we sit side by side for a meal that, just like this summer, will end too soon.
CHAPTER 33
Austin
I search the passenger seat as I bring Uncle Mark’s old Buick to a stop at a red light. Turbo barks from the backseat. I turn to find the Saturday paper clutched in his slobbery mouth. I rip it from his teeth and glance at the sports page.
Five-star wide receiver Austin Hyrum Dobbs of Richmond (VA) could very well be the most promising wide receiver on the University of Florida roster. Holder of three Virginia state records in football through his junior year and two Georgia state records during his senior year alone, Dobbs has the skill to make both the long catch and the big play out of the short pass. Dobbs is an explosive runner with sharp instincts, making him one of the most highly touted Gator wide receivers since Peter Warrick. At 6’3“, 205 lbs., he is a tough opponent and will be ready to play from day one.
Six feet three inches and two hundred and five pounds? More like six feet two inches and two hundred. Actually, with all the pralines and cream I’ve been eating, I’m probably climbing my way up to two hundred and five now.
I park the car at The Westin, making a mental note to hit the gym hard next week. I hop out and start for the front door to say good-bye to everyone here. I gave my two-week notice two weeks ago. If Sienna will only be here for one more month, I’m going to spend as much of that time with her as I can.
A couple of kids run past, throwing poppers on the cement. Snap. Spark. Snap.
I glance up, my feet coming to a halt.
Kyle.
There he is, sitting on a bench near the front door, fiddling with his iPhone and looking bored. He tosses something into his mouth, crunching down hard. He looks up, his jaw freezing in position mid-bite as he spots me.
Great. Just great.
The name “River Street Sweets” catches my eye as I close the distance between us. I glance at the tin of chocolates at Kyle’s side. “Breakfast?”
Kyle swallows. “Chocolate’s melting.”
“Ever tried their pralines?”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
Kyle throws a stiff glance at the girly-looking bag beside him, a huge thing with flowery fabric that’s filled with snacks, like he’s on his way to a cookout.
“It’s my mom’s.”
I nod.
“She forgot it,” he continues as though I don’t believe him. Really, I’ve got nothing to say to Kyle, so I reach for the front door. His phone buzzes, signaling a new text, and for some reason I stop. I glimpse Kyle checking his phone, and then our eyes connect.
“Sienna,” he informs me with a little grin, gesturing to his phone. He punches a quick reply message while I contemplate grabbing his phone and throwing it into the river.
“You got something to say, Dobbs?” Kyle glances down the street. “ ’Cause my parents are swinging by any minute now to get me.”
“Leaving early?”
His eyes swivel back to meet my gaze with a pointed glare. “You wish.”
One hard look into his eyes and I can see that he hates me as much as I hate him.
“Actually, we’re going to Sienna’s beach house for some parasailing, lunch, you know, spend the holiday over there.”
Oh, now he’s just trying to tick me off. And it’s working.
“Surfing, dinner,” he continues. “Then hit the beach again to watch fireworks together.”
Turbo bounds up just then, practically knocking Kyle off the bench. Silently satisfied with Turbo’s timing, I don’t try to stop him just yet.
Kyle scrambles back, holding his goody tin out of reach. “Get down, mutt!”
“Turbo, get down. I’m sorry,” I say, even though I thoroughly enjoyed watching every minute of it. Turbo sits obediently, wagging his tail.
“He’s yours?”
“Yep.”
Kyle sits back down with a huff. Oh, please. He thrusts the tin toward me, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “Well, he slobbered all over them, so they’re his.”
Turbo barks in approval, and we both glance down in time to see a thick wad of drool hit the pavement.
Kyle winces.
“Thanks,” I say, “but he’s allergic.”
“To nuts?”
“And chocolate,” I say, just as Turbo sniffs his way to a chocolate-covered nut that hit the ground when he spooked Kyle. “Turbo, no.”
I kick the chocolate away.
“What, one nut is going to kill him?” Kyle laughs.
“Yeah, actually, it might.”
“Huh,” Kyle says with a short pause, just long enough for me to reach for the front door before one of us starts throwing punches. Honestly, what does Sienna see in this moron?
“Waiting tables again toni
ght? Fun way to spend the Fourth of July, I guess,” Kyle says, pulling me back. “Or will you and Drool Bag be puckering up as you watch fireworks together?”
That’s it. “What’s your problem?” I ask.
“I saw the way she looked at you,” Kyle says, “in the restaurant. Even with you wearing that dork-of-a waiter vest and your little apron.”
Turbo’s tongue pulls back into his mouth. A low growl rumbles in his throat, reminding me to not say anything that will let this get out of hand.
Too late.
“Maybe it took getting away from you to realize what she really wants.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing, freak?” Kyle asks, suddenly standing. “Playing the sympathetic dump truck for her to unload her sobs into? Oh, I’ve played that game. And I’ve reaped the benefits.”
“What are you—”
“You kissed her, didn’t you?” he says like it was a one-time deal.
Well, I have a news flash for him. I don’t fight the grin pulling at my lips. Rage shapes Kyle’s features, which only makes my smile spread.
“What else have you done to her?”
I take a step closer without thinking. “None of your business.”
I see the punch coming before he shifts forward. But the front door opens, and Kyle stops. I hold the door open as a lady walks out.
“We’re done here, Kyle,” I say when she’s out of earshot.
He grabs the newspaper from the bench and shoves it into my chest. I glance down at the sports page. “You stole that from me,” he says, his voice rising. “When you broke my arm. That should be me.”
I feel a sting of regret, despite my feelings toward this punk. He started that fight. I didn’t mean to break his arm, really. It just happened. I shoved him off me. Hard. His arm took the brunt of his fall when he crashed into the brick wall.
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