Brian jerked awake. He startled so hard he flailed at the sheets that’d gotten tangled between his legs. He fought them as if they were the hands that were dragging him along the mud-caked ground as pebbles and stones ate into his skin. He could feel the stinging, but he didn’t make a sound.

“Today… you will speak.” The man said in a heavy Iranian accent repeatedly in Brian’s ear while he hung suspended naked from a hogs-hook. “Your screams will frighten the crows from their nest.”

Brian covered his ears as his mind replayed those words over and over like a scratched vinyl album. He squeezed his eyes closed and pictured anything that could make him smile. His first thought was Sway. His soft hands touching his face. His scent, the delicate curls behind his ears. Brian’s hands shook as he took in a breath and tried to hold it for three seconds. When he failed, he did it again, just like he was told to do, until he could hold it. Then he blew it out, only to repeat it a hundred more times.

Fuck! Goddamn nightmares. Or was it a flashback disguised as a nightmare? Brian kept breathing and thinking of anything that brought him joy. He thought of his brother. Just bringing his face into focus helped ease the tightness in his chest. The panic that came with being mentally transported to hell.

Out…two, three. And, in. One, two, three. Brian kept it going until he could open his eyes. Until he was sure he was in his bedroom.

When he finally pulled himself up to stand, he realized he’d been stuck— between realities—for almost an hour. At least that was how long his alarm had been blaring.

After a long shower, Brian had his gym bag on his shoulder and was locking up his home. He took long strides to his car, hurrying to try to make it on time. He and his brother worked out together at least three days a week. No one else, just them. God, the one time Brian had asked his friend Rod to join them, Ford had ignored Rod the whole time and had given Brian an earful about inviting others to infringe on their time.

Brian changed quickly in the locker room and met his brother—who was already stretching—on the mats next to the weight area.

“Took your ass long enough.”

Brian ignored him. He must still be in the dog house. He didn’t know Brian knew, but Dana had told him that Ford has been forced to sleep on the couch the last couple of nights for being a dick.

“You wanna do chest and shoulders today?” Ford asked when they finished stretching.

Brian nodded nonchalantly. He didn’t really care.

“Hey.” Ford snagged Brian’s elbow. “What’s up?”

“I’m cool.” Brian signed and tried to move around his brother’s probing gaze.

“Bullshit. Did you have another one?”

“Ford come on. Are we going to work out or—?”

“Did you call Dr. Horne and let him know?”

Brian gritted his teeth.

“You have to tell him when they happen. Did you document it?” Ford huffed. He sounded fed up. “You haven’t been missing appointments, have you? I’ve noticed you haven’t been mouthing the words as much when you sign. It’s important to keep doing that.”

Brian secured his weight belt, trying hard not to take out his frustrations on his brother. He knew he was just trying to help but he was doing too much. Brian had a million things going on in his head and for the first time in a long time, he was afraid. He’d potentially met a really nice guy who was willing to give him a chance… right when his PTSD went haywire.

“Brian, you can’t slack off. Are you doing your vocal cord exercises?” Ford shook his head. “You definitely can’t miss those visits either, man. Especially not to chase behind some tail playing hard to get. Dr. Horne and your speech therapist are the ones that can help you speak again, Brian. Not that boy toy you keep going on about.”

Brian hissed a warning breath and grabbed Ford by the front of his Nike sweatshirt. A few guys set their weights down at the sight of them head to head. He stared into Ford’s confused eyes before he unrumpled the material in his hands, so he could say what he had to say. “Don’t talk about him like that! You don’t know him. When the hell did you become so judgmental?”

“Brian—”

Brian shook his head vehemently. “Quiet! I’m speaking!” Anyone watching could see that Brian was pissed. The way his large hands slapped each other angrily while he put his words together was a testament to just how mad he was. “I’m speaking, dammit! But you don’t want to hear me like this, do you? No one else has a problem with the way I speak but you. I’ve accepted I can’t speak.”

“No! You can speak! You can, Brian. You can’t give up.”

“I’m not!” Brian mouthed it this time just like his brother wanted him to. He looked ridiculous. His mouth wide open, but not a peep coming out. Only a sharp breath, or a hiss and manipulation of air. Fury and defeat warred in his mind. “Accept this is me now. Accept it! I can’t beat it!”

Ford growled. The sound was loud and intimidating. Even the gym manager had yet to step in and intervene. When two military-trained special ops soldiers faced off, it was best to do one of two things. Look the other way, or run the other way. No one would dare jump into the middle. Ford stared at Brian with a mix of love and ire. He stepped closer so their chests were close but not touching. When Ford finally spoke, his voice was as rough as crushed glass and just as sharp. “You listen to me. The man I raised… he doesn’t quit.” Ford jabbed him hard in his chest. “He can’t be beat, or broken.” Ford stepped away and lifted his bag onto his shoulder. “When you see my brother again, tell him I’m looking for him.”

For the first time in his life, his big brother turned his back and walked away from him.