Page 3 of Savage Love

“Like Niall?” I glare at her, and from the look on her face, I almost regret saying anything. But I’m upset too. “I know how things went between the two of you, Isabella. I just took a page out of your book and made my own choice–”

“Don’t try to make this about me.” Isabella crosses her arms, a mirror of me. “Niall didn’t know who I was. Levin knew very well who you were and what his job was. It was to protect you, not…not—”

“Fuck me?” I supply helpfully, and Isabella’s eyes widen.

“Elena–”

“We were stranded on a beach. We’d been in a plane crash. We were eating fucking barbecued snake meat that Levin shot, for fuck’s sake. We had no idea how long we were going to live—and I didn’t want to die a fucking virgin!” I stare at Isabella, willing her to understand. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t have done the same thing?”

“That’s not the point–”

“Then what is?”

“He should have—”

“What?” I burst out, feeling tears well up in my eyes again. “He should have stayed? I wanted him to. But he’s telling the truth when he says that he let me know what this was from the start. It’s my fault for—”

I can’t finish the sentence. I can’t put into words what I feel for Levin, because it hurts too much. If I say it aloud, it will be too real.

I can’t stand that, not with him gone forever.

Isabella lets out a sharp breath. “I can see you’re upset,” she says finally. “We can talk about this more later. If you don’t want to come out for breakfast—I can bring you something. Just take some time until you feel better.”

She looks at me, her teeth worrying at her lower lip, and then I hear a baby’s cry from somewhere else in the house. “I need to go help Niall,” she says, looking torn. “Elena–”

“It’s fine. I’ll come out in a little bit. Go take care of Aisling,” I tell her encouragingly, and Isabella lets out a sigh.

“I’ll be back,” she says finally.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, looking at the crumpled letter next to me. A part of me wants to read it again, but I don’t.

What’s the point, anyway? It won’t change anything.

I sit there, feeling numb, until I hear raised voices from down the hall. It’s Isabella and Niall, and I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop. But I have a feeling it has to do with me, and I can’t contain my curiosity.

Listening in on a conversation is far from the worst thing I’ve done recently.

I step out of my room, leaving the door cracked as I inch down the hall toward their room. The house that they live in is small in comparison to the one we grew up in—five bedrooms and three bathrooms, two stories, and an attic. The outside is grey-painted clapboard, with shutters and pretty window boxes and a picket fence around it, a landscaped backyard that overlooks the water with a huge deck in the back. It’s the kind of sweet suburban home I imagined when I thought about Boston, and it doesn’t disappoint. Isabella said last night that it was Niall’s childhood home, inherited from his parents, and it fits him. He’s not much like the other men that I’ve met—he’s more ordinary, down to earth. He reminds me of Levin, in a way—rougher and earthier than someone like Connor or our father.

This is a house, not a mansion, and I like it that way. It doesn’t feel too big, like I’m rattling around inside of it.

“What the fuck was he thinking?” As I creep closer to the door, I hear Isabella hiss from inside the room. “Taking advantage of her–”

“He wouldn’t have hurt her, lass,” I hear Niall’s deep, Irish-accented voice. “If that’s what happened between them, then it must have been her choice–”

“Are you blamingElenafor this?” Isabella’s voice is outraged.

“No, lass, I’m saying there’s likely no blame to be had. Remember when we—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’ll tell you the same thing I told Elena, this isn’t aboutus. You didn’t know who I was–”

Niall chuckles. “Lass, if I’m being honest? I can’t tell you if it would have made a difference. You in that red dress—”

His voice turns husky, and my cheeks flush. This is a conversation more intimate than I should be hearing—–but it makes my chest ache, too. I want to hear Levin say that to me—that regardless of the circumstances, he’d make the same choice. I’ll never get that from him now.

“Stop that.” Isabella clearly isn’t having any of it, not right now. “He should have known better. His job was to protect her, not deflower her!”

Niall chuckles again. “Deflowerher? Lass, I didn’t think you subscribed to all that bullshit. If Elena wanted to make her own choice, didn’t she deserve that too? After all—”

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