Page 142 of The Love Haters

“Good point,” I said.

“Try Tampa. Or Orlando. Take my car. Heck, if everything’s crazy, just drive it home to Texas.”

“Take your car?” I said.

“Bring it back eventually,” Rue said. Then, with affection, “I trust you.”

“So—is this it? I’m just—leaving? This feels very sudden.”

“Well, that’s how natural disasters can be.”

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye to you.”

“We’ll see each other again,” Rue said. Then she added, “But you should get going. The Overseas Highway is already filling up.”

“Okay,” I said. Then, “Rue?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for everything.” And then I could hear a waver in my voice. “I loved living at the Starlite.”

“Come back anytime, sweetheart.”

I hung up, turned, and caught sight of Hutch, just as he caught sight of me.

He was in his flight suit, with a backpack over his shoulder and his aviators on, about to stride out to the airfield.

“What are you still doing here?” Hutch asked. “You should be on the road by now.”

“Are you leaving?” I asked.

Hutch looked over at the waiting helicopter out on the tarmac. “Yes.”

“What about George Bailey?” I asked.

“Lieutenant Alonso is driving all the animals up. They’ll stay with us.”

“It’s OK to bring pets?” I asked. He sure was all business.

“Not technically. But the XO there is pet-positive.”

“The XO?”

“Executive officer.”

“Ah.”

Was this the best we could do, conversationally? Didn’t we have some other topics to cover? Why were we defining military abbreviations right now?

Hutch assumed I was worried about the storm. “Don’t panic,” he said, “but you should leave now. Go back to the Starlite and load up your stuff, and then drive to the mainland. Get gas first. Head up as far from the coast as you can get before stopping for the night.”

“But…” I said, like a dummy. “I wasn’t supposed to leave for a week.”

“Well,” Hutch said, “everybody’s leaving now.”

“Yeah.”

Across the tarmac, the helicopter crew was waiting, watching Hutch like,Hurry up.Hutch glanced back at them.

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