Page 74 of Sweet Madness

“Tell me something no one else knows about you,” she asks gently, lifting her head, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

I pause for a moment, considering her request.

“I hate humankind.”

Ella laughs, the lovely sound wrapping around my heart and squeezing the hell out of it. “No kidding!” she says with a hint of sarcasm. “Now that’s a lie, because I know you like me.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “You’re the exception, moonshine.”

Her face softens, and the loveliest shade of pink spreads over her cheeks. “Tell me something else?”

I find myself unable to refuse her anything. All she needs to do is ask, and I’d probably move heaven and earth to make it happen for her.

I brace myself in the booth and take a deep breath. “I can’t sleep more than two hours at night.” There, I gave her something—something big.

Ella listens attentively, her gaze turning sad. Shit. Now I’ve made her sad. “Can I ask why?”

I shrug. “A ghost from my past can’t seem to let me go.” I try to joke, but it only comes off sounding fucking sad and pathetic. Motherfucker.

“I’m sorry.”

I frown. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m still sorry for whatever pain you’re going through, Shaw. I wish I could take it away from you. I wish I could make it disappear.”

“I haven’t had one single nightmare since you arrived at the ranch, so I guess you did make it go away,” I reply.

She smiles at me with a touch of sadness.

A pang of ache shoots through my chest.

“Don’t do that, princess,” I mumble, feeling helpless.

“Do what?” she whispers.

“Look at me with pity.”

“I don’t pity you, but you’re my friend, and what hurts you hurts me. I can’t change that; those are the rules.”

I busy myself with the knife on the table. “The rules, huh?”

She nods, looking at me sheepishly. “Yup.”

There’s a long pause before I finally respond. “Alright then.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she says sincerely, her voice a soft whisper amidst the gentle hum of the diner.

“What about you?” I ask.

“Me?” she replies.

“Tell me something no one knows about you.”

Ella meets my gaze, her expression both thoughtful and open as she ponders my question.

After a brief pause, she takes a deep breath, her voice soft but steady. “I—sometimes feel like no one really sees me. The real me…” She hesitates, gathering her thoughts before continuing. Her fingers trace the doodles on her napkin, a gesture of quiet contemplation. Her brows furrow slightly, and she seems almost nervous about what I might say next.

Anger twists in my stomach as I contemplate the idea that this girl—this lovely girl—has ever felt anything less than perfect.

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