Page 164 of The Love Haters

“Does that mean you’re not angry at me?”

Now Hutch broke out his iconic frown. “Is that a real question?”

“Of course!”

But now he was unzipping a pocket on his sleeve. And then reaching in with his fingers. And then pulling out… my hibiscus hair clip.

I looked at it. Then I looked at him. “That’s my flower,” I said.

“It’s my flower now,” Hutch said.

“You took it?”

“I stole it.”

“That day? At the pool?”

Hutch nodded.

“But… why?”

“Because,” Hutch said, looking right into my eyes, “I wanted it.”

Whatever he was saying felt like more than he was saying.

“You wanted it—the first day we swam together?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But Cole said—”

“Cole says a lot of things.”

“Cole said you were a love hater.”

Hutch squinted and thought about it. “I guess that’s actually true.”

Maybe it was the wind, or the ocean below, or theflying through the air. But I felt like I couldn’t keep up. “It is?”

Hutch nodded. “Love is the worst.” But he was smiling at me. “It makes you jealous. And possessive. And desperate. It upsets your orderly life. It haunts you, and worries you, and gets you drunk with your brother. It tempts you. It makes you say yes when you should say no, and it stops you from saying yes when that’s the only thing you want to do. It keeps you up all night with worry, and then makes you run out of fuel because you can’t stop searching for a woman on a sinking houseboat.”

Now I was smiling. “A woman and a dog,” I corrected.

“A woman and a dog,” Hutch agreed.

“So you really do hate love,” I said, smiling bigger.

Hutch nodded. “A lot. So much.”

I looked into his dark eyes. “I hate it, too.”

“Good choice,” Hutch said. “Let’s hate it together.”

“Thank you for saving me,” I said then.

He kept his eyes on mine. “Thank you for saving my dog.”

“Guess what else I saved?”

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