Page 9 of Saving Her Dragon

“You are so right,” his Mate readily agreed.

A profound sense of relief washed over Garrett. His body wasn't breaking… it was rebuilding. All was well with his world.

Spinning towards Sydney, he leaned down, kissed her soundly, then stood up to his full height. With his hands still on her lovely, curvy hips, he gave her an easy smile and said, “How about I rustle us up some of my famous blueberry pancakes?”

“Yum.” Sydney almost swooned. Then, schooling her features, she stood tall, well, as tall as she could for being only five-foot-two, and pointed her finger at the tip of his nose. “But I am supposed to be takin’ care of you.”

Pulling her close, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Pulling back, he winked. “Well, you can do that later. It’s my turn to spoil you a little bit.” Another kiss to the tip of her nose, and he added, “Please let me do it.”

He saw her eyes flash with the tiniest bit of Dragonfire before she relaxed, smiled, and nodded. “Of course you can spoil me.” Up on her toes, she put her hands on either side of his face and looked deep into his eyes. “Then I get to spoil you for the rest of the day, deal?”

“It’s a deal, my love.”

Cooking in the kitchen with Sydney was honest-to-goodness fun. She had the ingredients he needed out of the cabinet and on the counter before he realized he needed them. They laughed and talked like a couple who had been together for years. At one point, they were both covered in flour, blueberries were rolling around on nearly every flat surface, and the eggshells had somehow ended up on the floor.

And they were both laughing so hard they could barely draw a breath. It was priceless, a memory Garrett stored in the depths of his heart and soul to drive away the Darkness.

The pancakes were the best he’d ever made, even though it had been damn near a century since he’d been anywhere near a stove. The absolute best part was Sydney’s reaction when she took the first bite.

Her eyes got wide, her hand went right to her heart, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She savored the bite to its fullest extent, then sighed, “That is one of the top three bites of food I have ever tasted.”

Her praise was music to his ears. He was walking on air. It didn’t even matter that it took them almost an hour to clean the kitchen. He had made his Mate happy, and he had done it with his own two hands.

Later that morning, Garrett stood on the back porch, watching the sunlight burn the last of the mist off the Texas brush. A heavy footstep echoed behind him, and Grey stepped out into the warmth, holding a mug of Sydney’s amazing coffee.

"Wanna walk the property?" he asked, keeping his tone casual, though his eyes held a quiet weight that Garrett understood, but wanted to erase.

So, he didn’t hesitate. "I sure do." Nodding, he pointed to the table between the rocking chairs. “Just put your mug there. We’ll grab it on the way back inside.”

“You got it.”

For the first little bit, they walked in silence. The crunch of dry grass beneath their boots was the only sound besides the breeze that was always blowing and the occasional hawk whistling as he flew across the sky.

The white picket fence stretched out before them, a boundary of wards and Magical protection to keep the Heatherton Homestead safe from anyone or anything nefarious on the side facing the house. On the other side were Mystical precautions to protect anyone non-Magical who might come calling.

As they reached the edge of a dry creek bed, Grey paused and looked down into the ravine. A low, rumbling chuckle filled the air as he pointed and asked, "You remember this spot?"

Garrett looked, but the dirt and twisted mesquite roots offered no answers. He shook his head. "No."

"You were twelve," Grey said, a nostalgic grin softening his rugged face. "We found a wild boar trail down there. You decided, in all your infinite, stubborn wisdom, that you were going to wrestle it. You told me a future Dragon Commander shouldn't be intimidated by a pig."

Garrett stared at him, his brow furrowed. "Did I win?"

"Hell no," Grey laughed, the sound loud and free. "That boar sent you flying directly into a patch of prickly pear cactus. I spent three hours pulling needles out of your backside while you swore up and down that the pig cheated. You didn't cry once, you just kept plotting your revenge."

As he listened, Garrett searched the darkness of his mind for the memory. He couldn't see the creek bed as it was then. He couldn't see the boar or the cactus.

Then, right out of the blue, a strange, beautiful warmth bloomed in his chest. A sudden flash of pure, unadulterated joy echoed through his mind. He couldn't see the event, but he could feel the laughter. He remembered the feeling of being young, reckless, and fiercely loved by the brother standing next to him.

The phantom weight of his survivor's guilt didn't vanish, but for a fleeting second, it cracked. The memory was there. He just had to find a way to coax it out of hiding.

Looking over at Grey, the corners of Garrett’s eyes crinkled. "The pig definitely cheated," he murmured.

Grey's laughter rang out once again. Garrett was so swept up in the sound and the feeling of being with his brother that he didn’t even flinch when Grey slapped his sore shoulder.

None of that mattered. For the first time in an eternity, the silence between them didn't feel heavy with tragedy. It felt alive with hope, and so did Garrett.

Sydney found Ginnie in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the house a stark contrast to the heavy thoughts looping through her own mind. She waited until the other woman finished pouring a glass of water and had squeezed the lemon slices before stepping forward, her hands twisting nervously in the hem of her shirt.