Page 87 of The Love Haters

Instead, I laid low.

“Hey there,” I said, buckling up. “Good morning.”

Hutch gave a no-eye-contact nod and got us going.

“First flight today,” I said, testing out the conversational waters.

Another nod.

“Thanks again so much for all your… kindness yesterday,” I said then.

“Of course,” Hutch said, more whisper than voice, sounding oddly formal.

“I’m not sure what I would’ve done without you.”

Yet another nod. Then some breathing.

Thumb forgotten, we drove for a few minutes in silence. More minutes—manymore—of silence than we’d ever let happen before. I suddenly remembered Cole saying that Hutch was not a talker.

Finally, I said, “Is everything—okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Hutch said.

Everything didn’tseemfine. But who was I to say?

Something was going on. Did he regret the kiss? Did he regret telling me about his parents? Or had he—god forbid—gone on the internet after he got home, read all those posts, decided that all those mean assholes were right about me after all—and shifted sides?

It wasn’t impossible.

The internet did seem to have a knack for persuasion.

Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good.

I spent the rest of the drive trying to get him talking—aboutanything—but never getting past the two-word answers. Or getting any eye contact. And when we arrived at the air station, he made himself scarce pretty fast. So I went around getting B-roll shots of the hangar. I didn’t see him again until the meeting for the preflight check, where he walked in, avoided my eyes, and took a seat across the room.

Like, at the mathematically farthest point from where I was.

Maybe this was just how he was during missions? I’d never flown with him before. Maybe I was just seeing the all-business Hutch?

In one of our interviews, Hutch had explained to me the concept of aflight bubble—a mindset that crew members got into before any sortie, where the flight itself had their full attention.

Maybe that’s where Hutch had gone, mentally? Inside his flight bubble?

I’d have to work on mine.

Because this flight did not exactly have my full attention.

The meeting started with a discussion of whether the morning fog was impacting visibility too much to fly—concluding that no, it was within a safe range. Next, there were check-in questions with each member of the crew about their readiness. I’d read that everything in aviation starts and ends with a checklist—and that was definitely true now.

As the meeting progressed, my worries about Hutch gave way to other worries. Specifically to one particular, much more primal worry.Because this meeting had no choice but to end in the moment I’d been dreading from the start. The moment when I’d have to stand up andannounce my weightto the room.

No getting out of it now.

Had you forgotten that I’d have to do that before this flight?

Because I sure hadn’t.

The silent drive with Hutch had distracted me for a minute, but once we were in the conference room, there was no way out.

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