The cabin door creaks open just enough for you to slip inside.

You already know something’s wrong before you even reach the bed. Kayce is tangled in the sheets, breathing hard, head thrashing against the pillow like he’s trying to escape something you can’t see. A low, strained sound catches in his throat. Not quite a yell, more like he’s choking on it. His hands flex violently at his sides, jaw tight enough to crack teeth.

Nightmare.

You say his name, shaking his shoulders and his eyes snap open, but he isn’t there. The second you touch his shoulder, he grabs you.

You barely get a breath before the two of you crash sideways across the mattress, Kayce moving on instinct alone—trained, fast, terrifying in the way only somebody truly panicked can be. His forearm shoves against your collarbone, trying to pin you beneath him before his brain even catches up.

Adrenaline takes over. You twist hard beneath him, managing to throw both your weight and his sideways across the bed. The mattress dips violently as you hook an arm around his neck from behind, while your legs lock around his waist to keep him from bolting or swinging again.

Sheets tangled around all four limbs, the bedframe slamming against the wall. Kayce fights you for a few brutal seconds, muscles rigid under your grip, trying to break free from something that isn’t even in the room.

You shake him, repeating his name and steady commands. His body jerks once more before suddenly going still. Not relaxed, just still.

You feel the exact moment he comes back. The exact moment reality finally cuts through whatever memory had him trapped. His breathing turns ragged against your arm. One of his hands grips your wrist, no longer trying to tear it away, just holding there like he needs proof you’re real.

For a long moment, neither of you move. “Shit.” He mumbles quietly, rough with exhaustion and embarrassment.