Savage Love (Savage Island 2)

She swallows hard and doesn’t respond at first. “We should get back,” she whispers. “The sun’s almost set, and if we don’t get back—”

She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. I know exactly what’s at stake here. I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “But you’re not off the hook.”

“Why not?” she asks, facing me in bold challenge. “Why do you have to know what I mean? Can’t I just say something off the cuff without having to analyze every single word?”

But her bristling tone hides something she doesn’t easily reveal.

“Oh no you don’t,” I say, shaking my head and getting to my feet. I take her by the hand and help her stand.

“Don’t what?”

“Push me away,” I say with a smile. “Babe, you know better than that by now, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. We walk hand in hand in silence to the shelter, just as the sun sets. When we get inside, I shut and lock the door behind us, and she starts to prepare for bed, but I take her hand and sit her down beside me. It’s so dark in here, I can barely see her, but I don’t need to. We’ve spent so much time together, just the two of us, that I can read this woman well.

“Now talk,” I tell her.

“What?” she shifts away from me, but in one swift motion, I draw her onto my lap and seat her there, tucking my arms around her like a seatbelt.

“You know what,” I tell her. “What the hell was that about?”

She sighs. “Cy, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I squeeze her knee firmly, warning. I’m not letting her get away.

“Why’d you ask me if I meant it?” I push. “Why don’t you believe that what I said was truth?”

She sighs. I didn’t know it was possible to hear pain in the simplicity of a sigh, but I do. Or maybe I feel it. She’s hurting.

“Baby,” I say softly. “Talk to me.”

“I just—guys don’t like me, Cy. And now that we’re thinking of the possibility of getting home, I… I wonder if you still will when we’re back among civilization.”

“Why don’t guys like you?” I ask. I want to hear every bit of what she fears. I want to line up those “guys that don’t like her” and kick the shit out of them.

“I guess I’m intimidating or something,” she says. “And I just… I know I’m headstrong. Willful. I have opinions on things. I own my own house, and I have the responsibility of a brother.” Her voice catches. “I have my own career, I’m financially independent, and I don’t need to depend on a man for anything.”

I don’t answer at first, because I need to think about my response. What I say right now matters. I dragged this out of her, and she didn’t give it up easily. Though Harper’s strong and resilient, she’s not above being wounded. And I will not hurt her.

“Some men are intimidated by women like you,” I tell her. “I’m not gonna lie. If I met you back at home, I doubt I’d have thought the two of us could work. But now?” I shake my head even though she probably can’t see me, and pull her into a tight embrace she can feel instead. I speak into her ear. “Now, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone less brave, less intense, less fierce than you. You don’t intimidate me, baby. You inspire me.”

And then she’s crying, sniffling all over my bare skin, hot tears hitting my shoulders.

“Harper,” I say softly, rocking her. “Harper, baby. You’re okay.”

“I know,” she says, her voice high-pitched and wobbly. “But even strong women need… need to be held sometimes.” And then she’s breaking down, weeping, and I don’t have any more words. I do what she needs me to. I hold her. Her shoulders wrack with the intensity of her sobs, but I hold her still, absorbing her pain, giving her this space and freedom to unleash all the pent-up emotions she’s been holding onto for so long. Longer than she’s been on this island. Longer than I’ve known her. I know without asking that the pain she feels isn’t fresh or new.

She doesn’t cry very often, but when she does, it breaks my heart. And I make a vow right then, right there, that I’ll never be the cause of her pain.

After a little while, she quiets. I hold her still. She sniffs and wipes her eyes, then sighs. Her voice is softer now when she speaks. I’m prepared for whatever she wants to talk about, but she has very little to say.

“Thank you. No matter what happens, Cy, I won’t ever forget this. That you gave this to me. Thank you.”Chapter 5HarperNothing happens at first. Not the first night, nor the second. We try to pretend like we’re not feeling hopeless, that things are still what they were before. What’s really changed, anyway? We’re still stranded on this island. Still surviving. Still together.