Page 14 of Saving Her Dragon

Then, his world went entirely silent.

Garrett didn't freeze because he thought of something terrifying. His mind didn't flash back to the dark cells or his captors. Mentally, he was perfectly present. He was looking right at the grain of the wood, thinking about lifting it.

But his muscles simply refused the command.

It wasn't paralysis. Jason had told him that could happen, but that wasn’t it. There was no pain, no numbness, no tingling. His body had just decided to become a statue. He was locked in a half-bent posture, his fingers resting lightly against the wood, unable to close his grip, unable to stand back up.

One second. For one really long second, he was… well, he was stuck.

He tried to force his arm to twitch. Nothing happened. It was as if the signal from his brain was hitting a solid brick wall.

Two seconds passed, and nothing changed.

The wind blew. The grass rustled. He could see his own shadow on the dirt. He could hear the distant hum of a tractor from the neighboring field. He was completely conscious, completely trapped inside a shell that wouldn't move.

Three seconds that seemed like forever passed. A drop of sweat rolled down his spine. He was getting nervous.

"Garrett?" Grey's voice cut through the quiet, a subtle note of sharp concern instantly piercing the air. "You okay?"

Suddenly, like a light switch being flipped back on, the connection snapped into place.

Garrett blinked. His chest heaved as he drew in a sharp breath. His fingers closed tighter around the wood. He hoisted the board effortlessly and stood up, turning back to his brothers with a perfectly calm expression.

"Yeah," Garrett said smoothly, walking the board over to the fence line. "Just thought I saw a spider on the timber. All good."

Trying to ignore what had just happened, he kept working. Lining up the board against the post, he turned and reached for the hammer.

His heart pounded against his ribs. He hesitated for a split second. Would the same thing happen again?

He had no idea, but knew he had to keep going. He couldn't stop. And for the first time since he came home, a cold, uncomfortable prickle of dread settled deep in his stomach.

Later that afternoon, the house was quiet, filled with the lazy warmth of summer. It was comfortable, inviting.

Sitting at the kitchen island, Garrett watched Sydney slice fresh peaches into a bowl. She had been quiet since they came back inside from the fence line, her eyes occasionally darting to him with a soft, analytical gaze.

"What happened out there?" she asked softly, setting the knife down and leaning against the counter. "When you were picking up the lumber. For a second, you looked like you were a million miles away."

Garrett met her eyes, offering a self-deprecating smile. "Honestly? I don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a soft sigh. "I just... I forgot what I was doing. My brain completely blanked on the concept of picking up a board."

Letting out a soft sigh, she laughed with relief, the tension leaving her shoulders. "Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were having a flashback." She stepped closer, sliding her hand into his. "Your brain is still healing, Garrett. The doctors said you'd have foggy moments. It's completely normal."

"Yeah," Garrett murmured, squeezing her fingers. "Normal."

By the time evening rolled around, the unsettling moment at the fence was entirely forgotten, replaced by something miraculous.

They were sitting on the living room sofa, the television playing quietly in the background, when a specific scent from Sydney’s peach cobbler triggered something deep in Garrett's mind. It wasn't a memory of blood, cages, or the horrific experimentation of the Leviathan group.

It was a memory of his mother.

"She used to hum," Garrett whispered suddenly, his eyes staring blankly at the wall as the vivid picture locked into place. "When she made blackberry pies in the summer. She’d wear that faded blue apron, and she’d hum that old country song completely out of tune."

Sydney froze beside him.

Garrett felt a sudden, hot prickle of tears behind his eyes. It was a tiny, domestic, wonderfully ordinary memory. A piece of his childhood he thought had been burned away forever. The raw emotion of it caught him off guard. His chest tightened as a single tear escaped and slipped down his cheek.

Sydney didn't say a word. She just wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him tightly against her chest. She held him as he let out a shaky, emotional breath, anchoring him to the present. It was another undeniable victory. He was recovering his life, piece by piece, and Sydney was right there with him.

Night fell over the ranch, bringing an absolute, postcard-perfect peace.