When she started to snore softly, Brantley let the sound lull him to sleep.
A sharp bark sounded, dragging Brantley from his dreams. He opened his eyes, stared around, realized he’d already reached for his gun but hadn’t grabbed it.
With his hand hovering over the grip, he listened for noise to signal something was wrong, heard nothing.
Tesha huffed a bark, her attention on the open bedroom door.
“What is it, girl?”
She answered with a soft whimper.
Brantley forced his feet to the floor, stood upright. He left the gun on the nightstand and sauntered to the hallway. The lights in the living room and kitchen had been turned off—Reese, no doubt—so he moved in the dark.
“Let me out!” The shout came from upstairs.
Without hesitation, Brantley bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time. His body was primed for a fight, adrenaline flooding his bloodstream.
Once at the top, he heard rough breathing, followed by a garbled moan.
“Let me out!”
Brantley found Reese thrashing on the couch in his office, his arms flailing as though he was fighting his way out of something.
“Reese,” Brantley said firmly, refraining from rushing to his side. He knew the effects of those night terrors all too well, and he had no desire to put himself in striking distance.
Reese punched and kicked as though fighting someone off.
“Reese,” he barked harshly. “Wake up, Reese. You’re safe.”
Reese went stone still, his eyes still closed, his chest heaving.
“Reese?”
Those eyes opened slowly, head swiveling on the arm of the couch as he scanned the room. There was still terror in the golden orbs, but it faded away almost instantly when their gazes met.
“You’re safe,” Brantley repeated, unable to resist moving toward him now that he was awake.
He stared down at Reese for a moment, considered his next move, then said fuck it. He perched on the edge of the cushion near Reese’s hip, laid his hand on Reese’s chest. His skin was clammy, his heart pounding.
Brantley’s gaze snagged on the scar on his chest and he sucked in air. He remembered the first time he watched the video that had captured Reese being shot. Nothing in his life had ever caused such a painful, gut-wrenching feeling. Seeing that bullet pierce Reese’s chest … the thought that he could’ve lost him that very instant … it was still too difficult to think about.
Reese stared at him, his eyes hard, his breaths still coming fast and shallow.
“Where were you?” Brantley dared to ask, curious as to what nightmare he’d just relived.
“In that shithole,” Reese rasped, not moving a muscle. “Locked in that fucking shithole.”
Brantley knew what Reese was referring to, even if he didn’t know the specifics. Over the past six months, he’d done his homework and learned a few tidbits about Reese that the man had never shared.
“You want to talk about it?”
Reese didn’t move, didn’t blink. “Not really, no.”
Brantley understood all too well the ghosts that haunted a man. He knew because he had his own, had been battling the night terrors brought on from the night his world had come crumbling down on top of him.
Tesha appeared, creeping into the room slowly as though assessing whether the danger was real. Brantley reached for her, patting her head, assuring her she was also safe. She moved closer, pressed her nose to Reese’s arm.
“It’s all right, girl,” Reese whispered.
