He stood still and mute, and when he walked away from me, he didn’t say good-bye. I stood shivering and alone on the staircase until Sadie came outside to retrieve me, soothing me with words about how everything works out the way it should, how it would all be okay, that things happen for a reason.

Yep, a reason all right—a selfish reason.

I hadn’t yet walked back inside the warm apartment when I knew, in the darkest and veiled corners of my heart, that I had made a monstrous mistake. I didn’t love Rusty as I had Hutch, and I never would. I could love Rusty, but never in the extraordinary way I did Hutch.

I called Hutch’s apartment five times a day, apologizing, stalking the places he went. But he almost seemed to disappear—I’d see him across the quad or in the cafeteria, but as soon as I came near him, he was gone.

Finally, after I’d stood waiting outside his lit class, he entered the hallway and stopped. “Ellie, please, you are making this so much harder than it needs to be.”

“Please talk to me. Please let me apologize.”

He stood in front of me while my back was against the student council bulletin board. “Go ahead,” he said, coming closer.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. It came out wrong. Please can’t we talk about this and fix it?”

“Ellie, you are dating Rusty Calvin. Right?”

“Yes, I go out with him, but we aren’t steady or exclusive. Not like you and me.”

“Why are you here, staring at me with those eyes?”

“Because I’m miserable.”

“You want me to fix that?”

“I don’t know. I just know I can’t stand this terribleness between us. I only love you, Hutch. I can’t eat … you didn’t even say goodbye.”

He took another step closer and kissed me long and sweet. “Goodbye, Ellie,” he said.

“What?” I grabbed at his shirt.

“I shouldn’t have left without saying good-bye. So that was good-bye.”

“Hutch!”

He walked away, and anger finally replaced pain. Fine. Just damn fine. If that was what he wanted …

It was at the lake party that night that I told Rusty, “Yes, we can definitely go steady.” He gave me his fraternity pin, and we made love in an empty canoe on the side of the lake under a cloudy, dark sky. When I cried, Rusty believed it was from affection and relief, and I never told him otherwise.

The choices we make when we’re broken are sometimes the most awful of all our choices.

While the jubilee party continued outside the guesthouse, I glanced down at Mother’s words. Outside, someone turned the music up: Kenny Chesney sang about his blue chair on a beach somewhere.