Page 140 of The Love Haters

I tried to call Hutch, but no answer. I sent a text, and then several more. I left a ton of voicemails. Finally, I borrowed Rue’s car to drive to the marina, where there was no sign of him. And when I ran out of ideas…

I called Beanie.

“Stop trying to make contact,” Beanie said. “It’s getting embarrassing. I’m embarrassed just hearing about it, and I’m not even you.”

“But he didn’t say goodbye!”

“I get that it’s anticlimactic—”

“I need closure!” I wailed, in a tone that reminded me of Sullivan.

“—but you’re just going to have to wait.”

“But everything got revealed—and then he justleft!”

“Maybe he’s having a work emergency,” Beanie said, like the calm voice of reason. “Maybe he’s injured from the fight. Maybe he needs some time to take it all in.”

Okay. I hadn’t thought of a work emergency. That had potential.

“Whatever it is,” Beanie said, “ten more voicemails won’t change it.”

“Beanieeeee,” I whined. “Where’s your fighting spirit?”

“It went to bed two hours ago. And then you woke it up.”

“Sorry.”

“I get it. There’s a lot to process. Give the poor man a minute—and take one for yourself, too. Wash your face, put on your softest PJs, and go to bed. Everything’s always better in the morning.”

BUT THINGS WEREN’Tbetter in the morning.

Hutch was still hardcore unavailable.

And everybody else was suddenly unavailable, too.

Cole and Sullivan were nowhere to be found, and even when I knocked on Sullivan’s door to check on her hangover, I got no answer. Rue and The Gals left early to go antiquing on Sugarloaf Key, and Beanie had an eightA.M.client meeting. Not to mention, in the wakeof the internet being mean to me, I had decided to take a technology break and deleted all my social media.

So it was just me, and the breeze, and the Starlite swimming pool alone together all day.

I hoped against hope that Hutch might show up for our standard swim lesson that day, but he didn’t. I waited thirty minutes, and sent a hopeful text that just said:Still on for swimming?

And then I got into the pool alone.

Alone, and uninformed.

Apparently, there was some kind of storm that had been brewing in the Atlantic for the past few days that I’d been totally unaware of.

The Starlite felt like a ghost town that day—and that was another reason why. Even though the storm was supposed to make landfall much farther north, closer to Orlando, most of Rue’s Vrbo guests had canceled their trips.

So things were extra quiet.

For posterity, here are the thoughts I was having that day, as Hurricane Rafael was gathering strength in the Atlantic without my knowledge:

Hutch had every right to feel however he felt. I had gotten myself embroiled in a nasty sibling rivalry. I had pretended—under duress, but still—for three straight days that I was dating his brother… who I barely even liked. You could say that I just hadn’t volunteered the truth, but there was no question I’d deceived him—and helped his brother mess with his head.

I’d had my reasons, of course, but still.

He had every right to not say goodbye. And to not call. And he might detest me now, fair and square.

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