Page 84 of The Love Haters

“A work colleague or something?”

“I never talk about this,” Hutch said then. “It’s so strange to talk about it.”

I frowned. Was I asking sensitive questions? “We don’t have to talk about anything,” I said.

“It’s okay,” Hutch said. “You’ve shared a few things tonight.”

“More than a few,” I agreed.

Hutch paused for a second, and then he said, “The accident my parents died in… My dad caused it.”

At that, I shifted position—from leaning against him dreamily, myhead resting on his shoulder, to sitting up alert, watching his body language from behind.

“He’d just gotten a promotion,” Hutch went on, “and he’d taken us out to dinner, and I definitely remember him having at least one drink from the bar because I asked if I could get my Sprite in the same kind of glass. But I don’t really know how many drinks he had, or if he might have been a little”—Hutch hesitated a half second before deciding on—“impaired.”

I waited, watching over his shoulder.

“On the drive home,” Hutch said, “he blew through a stop sign at the bottom of a hill and T-ed into another car.” Hutch hesitated, and then he added: “Rue’s car.”

“Oh,” I said, as Hutch kept pedaling.

Hutch shook his head, and I watched his neck muscles flex with the motion. “He didn’t seem drunk. He wasn’t a big drinker. But Rue’s husband, Robert, was killed instantly.”

Hutch had slowed, and I wondered if he would stop, and get off, and find a bench to talk face-to-face.

But he didn’t.

Maybe it was easier to say it this way.

Hutch went on. “Rue says there was an overgrown tree blocking the sight of the stop sign. That’s her explanation—plain and simple. That my dad didn’t know to stop, or even slow down. I’ve never mentioned that drink from the bar to her. But of course she would know one way or the other from the autopsy.”

“So whatever they told her, she didn’t tell you?”

Hutch shook his head again. “No, and I didn’t ask.” Then he kept going. “After the impact, Rue was able to climb out of her side, but when she came around to try to open Robert’s door, he was caged in. He must have already been dead. But Rue didn’t know that yet. Somebody—a man, a bystander—pulled her back and away. The collision must have ruptured a gas tank. The fumes were so strong, everybody could smell them. The whole front of our car had crumpled like an accordion—and both myparents were still inside. I was able to get out, and I got Cole and led him away. Seconds later, the whole scene exploded—both cars, and everything in them. I can still remember the heat on my face.”

Hutch fell silent.

So did I.

“It’s funny,” Hutch said next. “There aren’t too many things I can recall about that night. The fire, I remember. How tightly Cole gripped my hand. But I can still see so clearly—almost like on a movie screen—the sight of Rue fighting the man who’d dragged her to safety.”

I saw Hutch lift the back of his hand to wipe his face.

Now I tightened my arms around him, and leaned against him in a legitimate hug.

“Wow,” he said. “I’ve never told that story before. To anyone.”

“You’ve all been through a lot,” I said.

“I guess I’ll keep going,” Hutch said then, “and add that our whole town knew about what happened, and whose fault it was. Some dipshits in my middle school took to calling my dad a killer—which I couldn’t even argue with, technically. Cole was still in grammar school, and somehow he got lucky and escaped the worst of it. I always think the one who had it toughest was Rue. She did a good thing, taking us in, and she loves us now, but it wasn’t easy. She and Robert were high school sweethearts. They were happy. It’s not like two squirrely boys were any replacement for the life she lost. And then, suddenly, she was driving car pools, and signing permission slips, and tied down in ways she’d never wanted. But she rescued us. She saved us. I’ll never forget it, and I’m grateful every day.”

“That’s why you’re so attentive to her,” I said.

“It’s not just duty. Rue is a lot of fun.”

“She really is.”

“That’s why I don’t want to be famous, though. Every time something about me shows up in the news, it brings it all up again. And then Rue does what she’s been doing since I was a kid: tells me she’s fine, puts on a brave face, and then goes outside to cry.”

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