Page 12 of Saving Her Dragon

And… She was right.

He did feel lighter. The heavy, suffocating fog that had clouded his mind since his rescue was slowly burning away. But it still felt like a heavy curtain that had gotten stuck.

"Breakfast is almost ready," Sydney said aloud, turning to him with a bright, genuine smile that made her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkle.

"Smells incredible," Garrett replied, his voice smoother, easier than it had been days ago.

Laughing came easier, too. So did breathing. He really was healing. He could feel it in his bones.

By the time they moved to the heavy oak dining table, Grey was already seated, scrolling through a tablet– something brand new to Garrett but apparently a necessary device for anyone who wanted to keep up on everything happening in the world. A moment later, the heavy front door swung open, and Carrick strolled in, bringing the crisp morning air with him.

"Morning, family," Carrick happily announced, pulling out a chair and dropping into it with effortless, athletic grace.

“You're just in time to help clear the plates," Grey teased, not looking up from his screen.

"I'm here for the bacon, Son, not the chores," Carrick shot back, though there was a familiar, easy warmth to the banter.

As Sydney began setting down platters of eggs and toast, Grey reached across the table, his hand scanning the spread for the maple syrup. Before Grey’s fingers could even brush the glass bottle, Garrett’s hand moved on pure instinct. He slid the syrup across the wood, placing it perfectly within his brother’s reach.

Garrett froze. His hand still rested on the table. He hadn't thought about it. He hadn't calculated the distance or even waited for Grey to ask. It was just a habit. An old, deeply buried instinct from a lifetime of sharing breakfasts.

Grey stopped, his fingers hovering over the syrup. He looked up, his sharp eyes locking onto Garrett’s. A slow, incredibly soft smile spread across his face.

"You remembered," Grey said quietly.

Garrett blinked, swallowing hard as a sudden rush of warmth flooded his chest. "I... I did."

It was a victory. A small, silent triumph that proved the man he used to be wasn't gone forever. He was still in there.

That sudden surge of confidence carried him all the way into the private gym at the far side of the remodeled barn behind the house an hour later. The space was bright, lined with mirrors, weights, and high-end rehabilitation equipment. Jason, a younger Guardsman training under the Clan’s medical team, was already adjusting a set of resistance bands.

"Alright, Garrett," Jason said, offering a respectful nod as Grey and Carrick took up their usual spots leaning against the back wall, observing. "We're going to stick to the light repetitions today. We need to keep testing the endurance of the leg muscles without pushing the joints."

"No," Garrett said, stepping forward. He felt a restless, vibrant energy humming under his skin, completely different from the sluggish ache of the past weeks. "Let's increase the weight. I want to do more today."

Jason hesitated, glancing briefly toward Grey. "Garrett, your chart says…”

"I'm feeling stronger," Garrett interrupted, his tone firm but entirely positive. He looked back at his brother and the Elder, a confident smirk touching his lips. "I've been lying around playing the invalid long enough. I want to prove I can actually be useful around here again."

From the back wall, Carrick crossed his arms, his expression tightening just a fraction. "Easy, Lad. There's no prize for rushing it."

"Watch me," Garrett smiled.

Approaching the leg press machine, he deliberately bypassed the pin Jason had set. He slid it down three notches, making it heavier. It was a weight that, by all medical logic, would make his recovering muscles scream in protest.

Garrett sat down, gripped the handles, and pressed his feet against the iron plate. Taking a deep breath, he prepared for the familiar, burning resistance.

He pushed.

The heavy iron plates didn't just move. They flew, slamming upward with a deafening clack, hitting the top of the machine's frame before Garrett even realized he had fully extended his legs.

There was no strain. No burning. It felt like pushing against empty air.

Silence fell over the gym.

Jason stared at the weight stack, his mouth slightly open. In the mirror, Garrett caught sight of Grey and Carrick. The easy, relaxed posture they had held a second ago was gone. His brothers had gone completely rigid. Carrick was standing at attention.

Their eyes locked intently on Garrett's legs.