3. Moving Forward #3
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.
They ate dinner out on the veranda, watching a sea of fireflies blink to life across the dark pasture.
Afterward, Garrett brewed a fresh pot of coffee, the rich scent wrapping around them like a familiar blanket as they sat in the quiet dark, holding hands.
Everything was beautiful. Everything was safe.
Hours later, Garrett woke up.
Blinking into the darkness of the bedroom, it took him a second to remember where he was. Looking to the left, he saw that the digital clock on the nightstand glowed a steady, faint green: 3:17 AM.
There was no nightmare fading from his mind. No phantom pain. He didn't know exactly why he was awake, but his throat felt parched. Slipping quietly out from under the covers, he padded downstairs to the kitchen, poured himself a cold glass of water, and drank it down.
On his way back, he paused at the edge of the bed. He looked down at Sydney, sleeping peacefully, her blond curls scattered across the pillow. He smiled, a profound wave of gratitude washing over him, before climbing back into bed. Within minutes, he fell right back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When morning came, the bedroom was flooded with bright, golden sunlight. Sydney was already awake, sitting on the edge of the mattress and tying her hair back. She looked over her shoulder as Garrett stirred, offering him a warm smile.
"Morning," she said softly. "Sleep okay?"
Garrett stretched, feeling remarkably rested. "Yeah. Surprisingly well."
Sydney hesitated. Her hands dropped from her hair, and she turned her body fully toward him. The warm smile faded to slight concern. "Do you... remember getting up last night?"
Garrett smiled, propping himself up on one elbow. "To get a glass of water? Yeah. I tried to be quiet. Did I wake you?"
A frown appeared on her lovely face. She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for a punchline that wasn't there.
"No," she said quietly, her voice dropping a register. "Not for the water."
Garrett’s smile slowly faltered. "What do you mean?"
"Garrett..." She swallowed hard, a flicker of genuine discomfort crossing her features. "You walked outside."
The bedroom went entirely silent. The cheerful morning sun suddenly felt harsh, casting long, stark shadows across the hardwood floors.
Garrett let out a breathless, uneasy laugh. "What? No, I didn't. I went to the kitchen and came right back to bed."
"Yeah, you did," Sydney insisted, her voice tight with a rising, nervous anxiety. "I woke up because the bedroom door clicked. I followed you downstairs. You went through the back door, and… and you were just... standing out in the middle of the yard. In the dark."
Garrett stared at her, the blood in his veins turning to ice. "Sydney, I was asleep. I would know if…"
"You looked wide awake," she interrupted, her eyes wide. "Your eyes were open. I walked out onto the porch and asked if you were okay. You turned around, looked right at me, and said 'yes.' Then you walked back inside, came upstairs, and went to sleep."
Reaching out, she gripped his forearm. Her fingers trembled slightly.
"Garrett... you really don't remember?"
He couldn't answer. Looking down at his hands, his mind frantically searched the blank, terrifying void of his memory from the previous night. He had no recollection of the grass beneath his feet, the cold night air, or looking into his Mate's eyes and speaking to her.
He was entirely, utterly blank.