Page 108 of When You Wish Upon a Wideout

The floor-to-ceiling windows let in light and a view that stopped Beau in his tracks—the seemingly endless sea and sky and the point at which they met.

Beau stepped onto the porch that wrapped around the back of the house. He ignored the four lounge chairs, the small grill, and the hot tub. Instead, Beau went to the railing, leaning against the smooth wood. The ocean and its rolling waves, the squawks of seagulls, and the beauty of the horizon might have taken his breath away, but Sienna standing on the beach, her long blonde hair tangling in the wind, forced Beau to stop swallowing lungfuls of crisp ocean air.

Beau had spent time in Malibu before—a close escape from his home in Los Angeles years ago while he played for the Bulls. He had surfed, walked along the beach, and watched the sunset with a beer on the back deck of a house not too far from where he currently stood. But he had done all those things in solitude—with no one by his side and only his brother Greg on his mind. And though the beauty of Malibu had been rejuvenating, allowing Beau to rest and recover, the solitude made it seem like a dream instead of real life.

Even though Beau was looking out on the same ocean, his hair blowing in the same wind, it hit differently watching Sienna, who wasn’t wasting a moment. The enthusiastic energy radiated so intensely off her body that Beau could feel it from thirty yards away. He thought back to Grace’s letter and a line that struck him to his core.

I’ve never actually been afraid of dying. I’m afraid of missing out on all the things I should do while I’m living.

“Like mother like daughter,” Beau said aloud as Sienna stood on the sandy shore, taking in the moment where her wish came true, and Beau wanted to wish with a hope as deep as the ocean at her feet that nothing could be truer than the saying “better late than never.”

Loosening his grip on the railing, Beau headed toward stairs that led down to the beach, not wanting to waste any more breaths or seconds of what precious time he had with her. But with each step he took toward her, Sienna stepped farther away, closer to the dark, chilly ocean, losing pieces of clothing along the way.

Her sweater.

Her shirt.

Her sneakers and socks.

“Sienna, that water is freezing. Wait!” Beau screamed, taking three steps at a time.

But no amount of footwork Beau had completed could prepare him for how fast Sienna sprinted to the ocean. He expected her to stop when the water swept at her knees, and she did. She looked back at him briefly, only to turn and dive under a rushing wave.

“Sienna!”

Beau stumbled out of his sneakers. “Shit,” he gritted out when his feet got stuck in his jeans. He couldn’t be bothered to lose the T-shirt he wore beneath his sweatshirt and scrambled to the water where he couldn’t see any part of her—no mop of hair, no warm, creamy skin, or long limb.

But when Beau dove into the frigid ocean, the tide’s pull brought his body right up against hers, as if the sea knew that no matter how hard he might fight a current or an undertow, he would find her.

“You’re fucking crazy!” he shouted, spitting a mouthful of salty water to the side and grabbing her arm.

Sienna merely continued to tread water against him, her mouth parted, lips already tinged blue. Beau was about to drag her back when her free hand came up to his face, her legs now working harder, knocking into his own.

“I feel like I just woke up.”

The goosebumps on Beau’s body protruded so strongly from his skin, they felt like knives piercing through. “You what?” His chest heaved, and his muscles tightened. “Are you out of your mind? You—”

Sienna did more than swallow Beau’s words. Her kiss warmed his entire body beneath the surface. Suddenly there were no more goosebumps. And even though a moment ago Beau would’ve done just about anything to get them out of the water, suddenly he wanted to stay wrapped up in Sienna’s impossible warmth and float in the freezing ocean forever.

“Maybe.” Sienna pulled back from the kiss. “Because I’m still in love with you.”

Beau didn’t know if his heart stopped beating from the water’s temperature or her words.

Sienna reached for his free hand beneath the surface, tugging him back toward the shore. “Come on.”

They swam with the tide until their feet hit the sand, their chattering teeth even louder than the roaring surf of the Pacific behind them.

“H-h-holy shit, holy shit.” Sienna leaned into Beau’s body as if it had any warmth left to give. But she didn’t seem to care that it didn’t or that their clothes had already blown down the beach.

“Sh-shower.”

Beau pointed to the side of the house, and they stumbled in the sand before Beau reached for the door’s latch, turned on the hot water, and yanked Sienna under the piping hot stream. Hugging her to him, he rested his trembling chin on her head, their bodies panting, heaving, and clinging together.

But suddenly, the teakwood of the shower door Beau faced transformed into a tree in his childhood backyard, the one Sienna had convinced him not just to climb but to jump out of. He wasn’t thirty-four, but seven, clinging to Sienna, who had run over to him and hugged him tightly when she realized he was okay. But before the pain even registered, a smile came to Beau’s face as he realized that who was beside you through it all—the fun, laughter, fear, pain, and heartache—was the most important thing.

As a kid, Sienna could make Beau smile even though he had a busted ankle.

As a teenager, Sienna could be the ear that took everything in when no one else would listen.

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