Page 79 of Sweet Madness
He looks like a lost little boy—a little boy in pain.
Instinctively, I cross the room and kneel beside his bed, reaching out to touch his shoulder lightly. “Shaw,” I murmur softly, not wanting to startle him but desperate to wake him from whatever haunted dream holds him captive—from whatever is causing him so much pain and sadness.
I try again, but he doesn’t wake up. Gently, I touch his bearded cheek and plead, “Please wake up,” my heart breaking more with each passing second.
At the sound of my voice, Shaw’s eyelids flutter and he gasps, like someone surfacing after drowning in deep and cold waters. His beautiful brown eyes, still heavy with sleep and agony, slowly open and try to focus on my face. For a moment, he seems disoriented, caught between the nightmare and this moment.
“Shhh… It’s okay,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. “You’re safe now. It was just a dream. Nothing can hurt you here.” I soothe him.
He blinks again, and the tension in his face eases slightly. Recognition dawns in his eyes as he registers who is in the room with him. “Moonshine. You’re here,” he mumbles, confused, his voice still rough with sleep.
I nod gently, offering a reassuring smile. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” I vow.
He lets out a shaky breath and rubs his hand over his face. “What happened?” he murmurs, his voice heavy with emotion.
My heart aches for him.
“You were having a nightmare,” I said softly, my hand still resting on his shoulder. “I heard you from all the way downstairs.”
He swallows hard, visibly trying to compose himself. “Fuck. They won’t leave me alone,” he confesses quietly, his gaze dropping to the tangled sheets. “She won’t stay in the past.”
She.
My heart squeezes tightly in my chest.
“Sometimes the past finds a way back,” I say gently, my voice tinged with empathy.
I met his eyes again. “Go to bed, princess. I’m okay now,” he whispers.
No. He’s not okay. Not at all.
It’s no wonder he doesn’t smile like he used to. The nightmares and the ghost that haunts him won’t let him.
I squeeze his shoulder lightly, offering support. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you stop shaking, at least.”
His whiskey-colored eyes stay on me as we sit in the quiet of the room, the remnants of his nightmare fading with each steadying breath he takes.
I sit quietly by his bedside and wait patiently.
A long moment of silence passes as I look at him with concern. When I finally speak, my voice is soft but steady, breaking the silence that hangs between us. “W–what is it? What keeps you up at night?” I ask gently, my eyes searching his troubled face.
Shaw hesitates, his gaze flickering away briefly before meeting mine. “It’s nothing,” he assures, his voice strained.
I shake my head slightly, a sad smile tugging at my lips. “It’s not nothing. It was a nightmare, and you looked like you were in pain. You know, sometimes nightmares lose their power over you when you share them with someone else,” I offer softly. “Let me carry it for you, beautiful man.”
“Don’t,” he says, closing his eyes in pain.
Feeling bold, I trace the freckles on his nose and the ones on his right cheek. “Shaw…”
He opens his eyes, looks up at me with pain etched in his features, and reaches out hesitant to touch my cheek lovingly. “I don’t want the ugliness in my head touching you,” he confesses, his voice heavy with sadness.
My smile softens into a sad expression. “Please let me in,” I plead quietly, my own hand covering his where it rests against my face.
He stays silent, as if wrestling with himself, before he sighs heavily.
With a deep breath, he begins to speak, his voice raw with emotion. “I dream of the morning my mother died,” he confesses roughly. “She died here, in this very ranch.”
No.