2. Rebuilding #2
Polishing each pair with steady, rhythmic strokes until the leather gleamed, all colors and types gleaming like glass, he placed the pairs on the shelves. Looking at what he’d accomplished, Garrett grinned as he wondered what cute thing Sydney would say when she saw them all lined up like soldiers.
“But I have to get this done first.”
Moving to the last unopened case, he entered the combination and pressed the pad of his thumb against the sensor.
The instant the lock clicked open, he lifted the lid and stood in awe.
The collection of weapons he'd amassed over the years was nothing short of impressive– even by Dragon Guard standards.
Lining them up on the folding table that was pulled from the wall like a tiny Murphy bed, Garrett wiped down each blade.
Inspecting each for nicks or gouges, he laid them out in order of length.
It was a ritual of survival his father had taught him and Grey at a very young age, but this time it felt different.
It felt like rebuilding a foundation, stone by stone… It felt good, cleansing.
By the time the scent of rich, dark coffee drifted up from the kitchen, a quiet peace had settled within him. Pushing his legs into his favorite, and most worn, pair of jeans, he had just walked out of the closet when Sydney appeared with two mugs.
Handing one to Garrett, she chuckled, “Jet fuel for every occasion, sir.”
“You know it, ma’am.”
Wrapping both hands around the ceramic warmth, he took a slow sip, letting the heat sink deep into his chest. To Garrett, this coffee wasn't just a morning beverage anymore. It was daylight. It was a shield against the Darkness.
It was tangible proof of safety and home… Of Sydney.
"Careful," she whispered, bumping her shoulder playfully against his arm. "If you stare at that coffee any harder, it might just evaporate into thin air."
"I am merely appreciating the logistics of a well-made cup of java," he replied dryly, earning another bright smile from his Mate before she lost the battle and burst out laughing.
Taking another drink, his eyes never left hers. Looking over the rim of the mug, he thanked the Universe for the gift of his Mate. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame…
With no fear of ever getting burnt.
“No, she will never hurt either of us,” Han matter-of-factly stated. “I know that you know, but I felt it necessary to add my two cents.”
“Some things never change.”
“Nor should they.”
Smiling as he set the mug down, Garrett moved to stretch his arms, and a sharp ache flared across his back. He winced slightly, his shoulders tightening.
“Are you okay?” Sydney immediately asked. Before he could respond, she had crossed the room, put her mug next to his, and was rubbing his shoulders like a practiced masseuse.
“Yeah…” He paused. “I’m okay. I just…”
“You just what?” His Mate persisted, the tone of her voice leaving no room for him to hem and haw.
“Well, my muscles are… they’re heavy.”
“Heavy?” She asked, concentrating on a knot in the muscles of his right shoulder. “Like you were lifting weights or working out? That kind of heavy?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “That’s exactly it. It feels like I have weights on my ankles and my hands are stiff.” Holding out his left hand, he opened and closed it several times. “My joints are tight. They burn and tingle when I move. I just…”
Instinctively, his mind flared with an old, defensive panic. His body braced for the phantom pain of cold chains and rough stone. The memory of the acrid stench of Chimera ash tickled the inside of his nose. He was falling. It was…”
“Just breathe, Garrett. You got this. Inhale… Count to three… Exhale.”
Sydney’s voice cut through the panic. Where the Darkness had been descending, her Light scared it away.
Doing as she instructed, he breathed through the dread and fear of impending doom. Inhaling for the third time, he realized the sensation had flipped. It was entirely different– not the agonizing, tearing trauma of torture.
This was exactly as Sydney had described. It was the dull, deep throb of muscles that had been pushed to their absolute limits. It had to be the aftermath of yesterday's physical therapy. That was the only explanation that made any sense.
“It’s got to be all those little muscle fibers threading themselves back together.”
“Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Acheson?” Syd chuckled, massaging down his left arm.
“Why, yes. Yes, it is,” he snickered, loving the feel of her hands and the love and healing he felt pouring through their Mating Bond.
“The physical therapist said it would take a while, even with my kicked-up metabolism and Magic, and I guess that’s what it is.”
“Sounds about right to me,” Sydney agreed. “I mean, my mom, Sam, is a doctor, and so is my Aunt Charlie, but I haven’t been around them for a while. The only healing I really know anything about is what Shavon taught me.”
“That is the good stuff,” he acknowledged. “Shavon is said to be the best at many things, especially Dragonkin.”
“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.