Chapter 2

Technically, it’s not pure and total cowardice if you run away for a good reason. At least, that’s what I chose to tell myself.

After mumbling something that might have passed for human speech, I fled—er, escaped—er, dashed (oh my God) into the servants’ dining room.

My first clear thought was: He’s going to yell at me.

A full-body flush prickled through me. My eyes stung. I tried to remember how to breathe. Slowly, bit by bit, I took control of myself again. I focused on the gingham curtains. I looked out the windows onto the sea cliffs and, below, the rollers coming in.

Hugo was here.

Hugo was in Hastings Rock.

Hugo was in Hemlock House.

Hugo was in my hall, looking impossibly Hugo-ish.

For someone who had spent a lifetime perfecting the fine art of avoiding confrontation, conflict, and any version of addressing his problems in a head-on and adult manner, this was an unmitigated disaster.

The door opened behind me, and I whirled around.

Indira, Millie, Keme, and Fox filed into the room. Indira gave me a worried look. Fox frowned. Keme’s face was dour. And Millie darted forward to give me a hug.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Oh Dash,” she said and squeezed me harder.

When Millie had finished demolishing my ribcage, we sat at the table, where Indira, Fox, and Keme had already taken chairs. Keme kept shooting dark looks at the door as though he expected to have to launch to his feet at any moment. Indira was watching me with dark eyes. Fox played with what looked like an engineer’s pocket watch that had somehow been turned into a brooch.

“So,” Fox said. “That was Hugo.”

I nodded.

“Should I call Bobby?” Millie asked.

“What?” The thought of Deputy Bobby—of confident, strong, direct Deputy Bobby, with his burnished bronze eyes that didn’t miss anything—meeting Hugo made me sit up in my chair. “Oh my God, no!”

“But if he’s dangerous—”

“Hugo’s not dangerous,” I said. “He’s—Hugo.” I heard how that sounded and added, “He’s not supposed to be here, that’s all. He caught me off guard.”

That was putting it mildly. A few months ago, Hugo and I had been dating. More than dating, actually. We’d been living together. And Hugo had been planning on proposing. Which was all well and good, except I didn’t love Hugo. And so we’d broken up, and I’d moved across the country. And now, out of the blue, here he was.

“He’s in my house,” I moaned and clutched my hair.

“That does seem to be the case,” Fox said.

My head came up. “My parents!”

“Your parents are coming?” Indira asked.

“No! He’s going to tell them!”

“Tell them what?” Fox asked.

“Everything!”

Even Millie’s eyes got a little wide at that.

“Dash,” Indira said, “take a deep breath. I understand it’s a bit of a surprise, but I thought you ended things on amicable terms.”

“We did,” I groaned. “You don’t understand. He’s going to be so…Hugo-ish about this. That’s why he’s here. It’s going to be a disaster. It’s going to be one of those train wrecks that keeps going and going.”

“Maybe he’s here on vacation,” Millie said.

I gave her a look, but because she was Millie, she beamed at me.

“I know it’s not always comfortable,” Fox said, “bumping into an ex. And I’m sure you have a lot of feelings about…about how things ended. But Dash, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Their voice softened as they reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “You don’t need to feel embarrassed or ashamed or defensive. His feelings aren’t your responsibility. You have to take care of yourself.”

I nodded. “You’re right.”

Fox’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re absolutely right.”

“No,” they said. “We are not burning Hemlock House down and faking your death.”

“It’s the only way,” I said. “You don’t know how Hugo is. He’ll keep coming and coming.”

“Like the Terminator,” Millie said brightly.

“Oh my God, the Gauthier-Meadowses! Are they still—”

“They’re gone.” Fox waved a hand. “And you’re stalling.”

“I’m not stalling. I’m actively pursuing a new and interesting topic.”

“This is silly,” Indira said. “Go tell him that you’d like him to leave, and that’ll be the end of it.”

I gaped at her.

“I changed my mind,” Fox said. “I’m on board with burning down the house.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Dashiell, stop it.” Indira’s voice was flat. “Fox, don’t encourage him. Tell him to go away, and I’ll make us a cake for tonight.”

“You can’t bribe me into being a responsible, mature, problem-solving adult. I’m going to run away, like Fox said.” Inspiration struck. “I’m going to join the circus.”

“It’ll be a tres leches cake.”

A little too quickly, I said, “I suppose I could at least hear what he has to say.”

Keme gave me a look of undiluted disgust.

“This is how adults handle their problems,” I told him loftily.

“You’re going the wrong way,” Millie said with unnecessary enthusiasm.

I ignored her as I tried to get the back door open. “I didn’t say I was going to talk to him right now.”

Keme rubbed his face.

“Dashiell,” Indira said.

“I’m not saying I want you to burn Hemlock House down and make everyone believe I perished in a record-breaking inferno—”

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” Fox said, “but I’m even more invested in this plan when he says it like that.”

“—but I wouldn’t be angry if you did.”

“You cannot run away from your problems forever,” Indira said.

Shows what you know, I thought as I pulled the door shut behind me. The late summer day was warm and smelled like the briny, ocean winds and the dusty hemlocks that gave the house its name. I had been successfully running away from my problems since March 16th, 1990—

As I came around the side of the house, I crashed into Hugo.

We both fell, but Hugo picked himself up first. Then he helped me up. He dusted me off, and, rubbing his head where we’d collided, he gave a rueful smile.

“You were waiting for me?” I demanded, rubbing my own goose egg.

“Hello, Dash. For the second time.”

“Hi. For the second time. And now goodbye. For the first time.”

I tried to step around him, but Hugo held out a hand. He didn’t grab me. He didn’t even move into my path the way Cole had. But I stopped.

“I know this is uncomfortable for you,” he said. “I know that I’m asking you to do something difficult for you. But I’d like to have a conversation with you about our relationship—”

“We’re not in a relationship. We broke up.”

Hugo took a deep breath. “I didn’t get the closure I needed from that conversation. And, if I’m being honest, I think you broke up with me because you were scared. I think that’s a bad reason to throw something wonderful away.”

“Well—” The best I could come up with was “Too bad. I’m sorry you didn’t get closure, but we already had this conversation—”

“You told me you wanted to break up,” Hugo said, “and you left the next morning. You won’t answer my calls. You won’t respond to my messages. Dottie’s worried sick about you, you know.”

That comment from my sister felt like a low blow, particularly since she’d been too busy backpacking through—God, I thought maybe she was in Vietnam right now—to do more than send the occasional text.

Hugo continued, “If your parents hadn’t told me where you were and what you were doing, I would have thought you were dead.” A tiny quaver worked its way into his voice as he asked, “Do you know what that felt like?”

A gull flapped into view and then banked sharply. Its cry seemed like it came from a long way off.

“I’m sorry,” I said in a small voice.

He nodded. His eyes looked full, and he blinked a few times. “I know. And I understand that—that you have a pattern of dealing with problems this way. But I don’t think it was fair to me. And I don’t think it’s fair to us, Dash. I love you. And I know you love me. If there are problems, then let’s talk about them. Let’s see a counselor. Let’s work on them together.” He caught my hand, and I still remembered how it felt, to have his fingers wrapped around mine. “I never should have let you go. I should have said all of this when you told me you wanted to leave. But I…I couldn’t believe what was happening. I couldn’t think. I did everything wrong. And so I’m here, now, and I’m trying to do it right.”

It took me a moment to work up the courage. “Hugo, I’m sorry I hurt you. I am. And I’m sorry I left, well, abruptly. But I’m not sorry we broke up. And I don’t want to get back together.”

He nodded. “I think we should see a therapist.”

“Uh, no.”

“We need to see one, Dash. Together. We can do it out here, if that will make you more comfortable.”

“Hugo, I don’t think you’re listening to me.”

“I’m listening to you. But Dash, this is the exact same thing all over again. You don’t want to deal with your problems. You don’t want to have hard conversations. For heaven’s sake, you tried to sneak out the back door so you wouldn’t have to talk to me.”

“And I stand by that plan.”

“You don’t think you love me.” Hugo shrugged. “Okay. But let’s talk to a therapist about what that means in terms of your inability to make decisions, your conflict avoidance, your perfectionism, your unwillingness to be vulnerable and intimate—”

I yanked my hand away.

“That’s not how I meant it,” Hugo said hurriedly.

“Please go home, Hugo. I don’t want to see you again.”

“I’m not giving up on us.” Hugo raised his chin. “I’ve been reading Brené Brown. I’m daring greatly. I’m being brave for the sake of our love.”

I turned and headed back toward Hemlock House.

“You can tell yourself that it was me,” Hugo called after me. “You can tell yourself I was the problem, that you didn’t love me, that everything will be okay when you find the right guy. But you’re lying to yourself, Dash. The only thing standing in the way of your happiness is you.”