Page 80 of Sweet Madness

The tightness in my chest grows painfully.

I listen intently, my heart aching for the pain he carries within him. I don’t interrupt, allowing him the space to share his burden at his own pace.

“She struggles with depression long before I am born, and that morning her illness wins,” he continues, his voice distant as he recounts the awful memory. “I am the one who finds her. I remember feeling so angry, and so fucking helpless as I find her lifeless body inside the tub.” His voice cracks slightly, and he pauses to collect himself.

“My Ma was different and she had a fucking hard time— a really fucking hard time,” he finally whisper, his eyes filling with unshed tears. “She was deaf and she wouldn’t speak because she was made fun of for the sound of her voice. This world is cruel to the ones who aren’t born perfect. She was ridiculed and abused for being different. But she was… she was perfect just the way she was. She held on for as long as she could until she let the ones who hurt her win.” He breathes out, his body shaking with force. “I relive that moment in my dreams, over and over again. It haunts me and I can’t seem to break its hold on me. I’m not sure I want to.”

His poor mother. I couldn’t fathom the agony his mother must have endured daily to reach the sad point where she felt she had no choice but to end her life and leave her son behind.

My thoughts immediately turn to my beautiful Low, and my heart pounds painfully. Does she hurt the same way Shaw’s mother did? The fear of losing my kind and gentle ray of sunshine to this cruel society grips me tightly.

Shaw witnessed every child’s worst nightmare.

Feeling my heart break for him, I reach out, my hand gently squeezing his. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur softly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Shaw.” My voice breaks at the end.

He nods slightly. “I’ve tried to bury it like I buried her, to move on,” he admits quietly. “But it always finds its way back. I can’t escape it and what’s worse is that I’m always late. I can’t save her.”

“You don’t have to face it alone anymore,” I reassured him gently. “I’m here now.”

He looks at me as if he doesn’t believe me, his brown eyes reflecting pain. God, I’ve never seen him this way. Not my fearless and brave bodyguard. I never want to see him in this much pain again. “But for how long?” he whispers hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion.

I lean closer, my nose touching his. “For as long as you have me,” I whisper fiercely, meaning it with all my heart. If only this man, this beautiful man, would ask me to stay, I would without hesitation. I know how I feel. I just need him to see it too.

Shaw stares at me in silence, his eyes sad, angry, and lost.

“You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself,” I repeat softly. “Let me be here for you.”

He just looks at me without saying anything.

We sit in silence in his room for a long moment, the weight of his confession hanging between us. I keep my face close to his, sharing with my eyes all the secrets my heart holds.

Then he surprises me by closing his eyes and resting his forehead against mine. I hold his hand gently, letting him know he is not alone.

As I hold his strong hand in mine, he faces the ghosts of his past, sharing one whispered confession at a time as the hours pass and the night slowly gives way to dawn.

Shaw opens his heart to me, revealing a tortured past that could turn even the sweetest and warmest hearts to stone.

As my muddy boots crunch on the gravel drive, I take in Sunshine Stables, the ranch that has been my childhood haven and home. The small bag slung over my shoulder feels heavy with the weight of the life I left behind in D.C. just days ago. I never imagined leaving a job I love and a city I grew to think of as home before the dream was ripped from me and reality sank back in.

Ma.

I’ve been calling her for three days straight and haven’t heard anything back. She gets like this sometimes when she hides away; her anxiety and depression often keep her secluded, but it has never lasted more than a day.

That’s why I’m left with no choice but to come back.

As I stand in front of the ranch, my heart races with worry for Ma.

“Ma?” My voice echoes in the crisp Canyon Creek air, but there is no reply. Dread knots in my stomach as I hurry towards the ranch house entrance.

The place is eerily quiet. Usually, Ma leaves the radio playing in the background, but not today. “Ma!” I call out again, louder this time. With each passing second, my concern grows. I move swiftly through the familiar rooms, searching for any sign of her.

But she is nowhere to be found.

Finally, I reach the last room—her room. The wooden door, usually left slightly ajar, is closed.

She never closes her door. Never.

The feeling of dread intensifies. My hand trembles slightly as I push the door open, and my heart lurches at the sight that greets me.

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