Swift and Saddled (Rebel Blue Ranch, #2)

by Lyla Sage

But depression wasn’t a logical disease. It was an unexpected cold front in the middle of July. It was impossible to predict, which meant that I spent much of my time worrying about when the other shoe was going to drop. Not if, but when I would sink into another dark hole and have to decide to claw my way out of it. Even when I was happy, I was thinking about when I wouldn’t be.

When you’re treated a certain way for so long, you start to believe that’s how you should be treated. It left me feeling like there wasn’t anything about me that someone could love.

“You say you’re not nice, or warm, or bright, or any of these other stupid fucking words that people use to describe the sun, but I never asked you to be the sun.” I rolled my eyes, trying to move them in a way that would stop the tears from falling. “I would rather have the moon anyway.”

He saw me for exactly who I was, and he loved me because of it, not in spite of it.