Page 141 of The Love Haters

But that didn’t change the fact that I was in love with him.

The way I was missing him. The way I couldn’t stop longing for him. The way my thoughts, and my heart, and my entire body were completely capsized by everything that had just happened… there was no other explanation. Based on misery alone, it just had to be love.

I KNEW Ididn’t have much time. But I had much less time than I thought.

When I showed up at the air station the next day, blithely unaware of the looming weather crisis, the place was all business.

At some point overnight, Hurricane Rafael had apparently whipped himself into a Category Four hurricane and shifted course—now headed for Miami, not Orlando—sooner, faster, and angrier than expected. Landfall was now expected in twenty-four hours, not thirty-six, and the air station crews were doing all preparations possible so they’d be ready to render aid after the worst had passed.

So much for my technology break.

Points to Beanie for calling it. Hutchwashaving a work emergency.

I’d been bobbing around in an empty pool, lovelorn and full of regret—while Hutch was preparing to rescue a massive American city from a major hurricane.

Category Four hurricanes, as defined on the Saffir-Simpson Scale, have sustained winds up to 157 miles per hour, in case you’re wondering.

I googled it, obviously.

So, yeah: I was maybe not quite as top-of-mind for Hutch as he was for me.

Once I got to the air station, he was there—but I barely saw him. And when I did catch a glimpse, he didn’t see me, or talk to me—or even seem to register that I was present.

As if I was already long forgotten.

I got it.

Of course I was forgotten. Hutch had genuine, death-defying heroics to prepare for. I’d done enough research to know how hard the Coast Guard worked in the wake of hurricanes. They were the first responders as soon as the storm had passed.

Depending on the damage, Hutch could be saving lives, transporting people off rooftops, taking patients across the city, rescuing boaters, helping with evacuations, bringing in water and food, saving families and their pets—and anything else that needed doing—forweeks, takingthe required hours between shifts to sleep and then heading out again, day in and day out.

Which begged the question: Did he hate me? Or was he just…busy?

I might never know.

This was a real emergency.

One I truly couldn’t help with. At all. For many reasons. Not the least of which—I found out at the station in our first morning meeting—was that they were evacuating the Florida Keys.

“Why the keys?” I whispered to Omar, in the back. “This thing’s headed for Miami.”

“It shifted course again,” Omar whispered back.

Sure enough, it had. Now it was headed for Key Largo. Which, if you need a little help with geography, stood directly between us and the mainland.

I quietly panicked while the meeting continued—as the higher-ups laid out all the procedures and everyone got their orders. They were moving all their helicopters to Miami to wait out the storm, which seemed odd at first. But it made sense as I thought about it: if their equipment got damaged, they couldn’t help in the aftermath.

AS SOON ASthe meeting was over, I walked to the hangar, looking for Hutch.

When I didn’t see him, I stood by the open doors and called Rue.

“We’re evacuating,” I told her, feeling like I had the inside scoop.

“Oh, we’re already on the road, sweetheart,” she said. “The Gals and I decided to take a road trip to Phoenix in Benita’s Suburban. No hurricanes there.”

“Brilliant,” I said.

“You should probably change your flight home. Everything out of Miami is getting canceled.”

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