Page 75 of Sweet Poison

I don’t even hesitate. “Yes,” I reply, my voice steady and strong.

I don't even notice I’ve not signed and have used my voice with him all this time without fear of ridicule because Madden grinch exterior and all has always made me feel safe.

“I killed my mother.” he says, and my breath catches in my throat. “She died giving birth to me.”

I feel my heart clench at his words, the weight of his story pressing down on us. “I’m so sorry, Madden,” I whisper, wishing I could ease his pain.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t stop there,” he continues, his brow furrowing. “My dad was miserable after that. He came to America chasing the dream, but all he found was disappointment. He wanted more—more money, more success. But he never made any of his dreams come true. He fell in love and quickly had us leaving him a family to feed and no time to chase dreams.”

I can’t help myself. I lean in closer, my heart aching for him, for everything the little boy in him went through. “That sounds so hard.

“He was weak,” he spits, the bitterness creeping into his voice. “He was so unhappy that he checked out and stoppedfighting. He left me with my brother, who—let’s just say was a poor excuse of a human. He liked to beat and starve me because he couldn’t stand the fact that his life was shit. He blamed me for everything that went wrong in our lives.”

I can feel the years of pain in his words settling deep in my soul. My throat tightens as I try to process what he’s just shared. I can’t imagine the pain and agony of a childhood filled with neglect and violence. “That’s awful, Madden.” I whisper, “No one should have to go through that.” My voice cracks on the last word.

Madden shrugs, trying to brush it off, but I can see the hurt lingering in his black eyes. “It was my life. I had to learn quickly to fend for myself…” He pauses, his voice softening slightly. “Until I found racing. That was my escape, my way out.”

I can’t help but admire him for fighting his way out of hell, for finding a way to survive even when life tried to break him. “You’ve fought through so much,” I say, my voice gentle but firm. “That makes you stronger, not weaker. You survived.” I say in awe of his strength. “You did what your father couldn’t.”

Next to what he has gone through, my scars and my insecurities feel so insignificant—nothing like the battles he fought to just keep breathing.

He holds my gaze for a long moment, and in that silence, something shifts.

Tentatively, my fingers lift, my touch trembling slightly as I trace the scar on his lip, the harsh texture of it like a story marked on his skin.

Madden closes his eyes at my touch, his breath catching for a moment.

“What’s this from?” I ask softly, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

He opens his eyes, looking at me with something darker, something that feels like shame. “I dared ask my brother for food.” he says, his voice rough as if it pained him still.

A tear slips from my eye, betraying the emotion that has been building inside me. I pull my hand away from his scar, but before I can retreat completely, Madden reaches out, his fingers closing gently around my wrist, pulling me back to him.

“Don’t cry for me, fairy,” he murmurs.

I sniffle, trying to compose myself, but I can’t. “Someone has to,” I whisper, my heart aching for everything he’s endured.

Oh, sweet Madden. I wish I could erase your past and take your pain.

He studies me for a moment, his grip on my wrist tender, almost like he’s afraid to hurt me.

“I wish I could make it all go away,” I say sadly, another tear slipping down my cheek. Before I can wipe it away, Madden leans in, brushing it away gently with his thumb. His touch, so soft, and it sends a warmth through me, as if he’s giving part of himself to me.

“You do enough of that already,” he replies, his voice a soothing murmur.

I look up at him, confused. “I don’t understand.”

His eyes lock with mine and with slow, deliberate movements, he takes my hand and places it over his chest, right above his heart. “You made it beat again,” he says, his gaze intense and his voice sincere.

My breath catches, and my chest tightens with something meaningful, something sweet. “I... What do you mean?”

He holds my hand there, and I can feel it—his heart, steady and strong, beating beneath my palm. “It was dead. For so long, I only felt anger, and pain. Until I made myself feel nothing at all. Until you came into my life like the warm sun after a longstorm. You, Willow Emersyn, make everything less fucking ugly and more… you.”

The words hit me like a wave. I can’t look away from those beautiful black eyes of his. “More me?”

He nods, and my heart feels like it’s about to combust. “You made me smile when my life would make anyone cry. You made me not hate life. You made me look forward to another day because you were there. And even when shit happened, and you weren’t part of my life…I still felt you. Still carried you with me. Even when I tried to push you out of my memories....” He grips my hand tighter against his hard chest. “It. Was. Always. You.”

“Madden…” I whisper breathlessly as he looks at me as if I’m the only thing in the world he ever wants to see.

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