Blind Warrior (The Weavers Circle 3)

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Certainly gives you an advantage over a lot of people. You’re physically fit, and your mind is sharp. You’re just missing a little training. Let me show you how to gain control of your life again.”

The last thing sounded really nice. Hell, he hadn’t truly felt in control of his life since he’d met Clay, Baer, and the goddesses. But if Cort could give him back just a little of the control he’d had before he’d lost his sight, he’d appreciate it.

With a heavy sigh that was more show than fact, Grey nodded. “Where do we start?”

“Okay then, what about the kitchen? Have you used it since this happened?”

“Don’t need to. I eat at the main house with the others.” That wasn’t really true. They’d been bringing his food to him over the past week, but Cort didn’t need to know that.

“Don’t blame you. It’s a nice house. I met a couple of people when I first arrived. Are they family?”

Grey gave a small nod. “Friends, but close ones, so more or less.”

“Have they been supportive?”

He straightened a little where he sat, his defenses automatically snapping into place. “They’ve all been great.” Grey hesitated and Cort remained quiet. The silence stretched until Grey found himself admitting, “But I hate that they feel bad for me.”

“They can’t help that. Tell me, have you really been going over there for your meals? Because Dane took some dirty dishes with him when he left. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, just trying to understand what you’ve been doing.”

That reminded Grey—he felt rotten about that. He could have tried to at least wash the dishes. None of his friends should have to clean up after him.

“No,” Cort continued. “I get the feeling you’ve been holed up in this apartment since it happened. There’s a closed-in smell to the place. Could use an airing out. Mind if I open some windows? It’s warm out. There’s a wonderful fall scent on the breeze today. Nice. The fresh air will be good for you.”

“Suit yourself,” Grey said with another frown. He hadn’t realized it smelled, but then Cort was right. He’d been wallowing in his misery for a week now, with the exception of the crazy trip to the doctor and the liquor store a couple of days before.

He listened as Cort raised the blinds and opened the windows. Instantly, a cool breeze filtered through the room. It came with the scent of freshly cut grass, and he remembered hearing someone on the mower that morning. It hadn’t cooled enough for the grass to stop growing yet.

“It looks like you have a good layout with your furniture already. The main thing we want to do is prevent falls. There is one table that sits a little too far out from the wall, so I’m going to move it.”

He listened as the table scraped along the floor. “Which table did you move? I had the layout in here memorized.”

“A small one near the kitchen.”

Grey hadn’t noticed it sticking out, but again, he didn’t much care. He mostly felt his way around things anyway.

“I’ve always wondered what it would like to be a writer, to have that kind of imagination. Have you been able to work at all since the accident?” His voice was a little more distant than earlier. Cort was still on the other side of the room.

“No. How am I supposed to see what I’m doing?” he snapped. “And I know about dictation programs, just haven’t gotten around to using one yet. It’s not easy to make the switch. My creative process, how I organize the words and scenes in my head, is accustomed to typing. I can’t just start speaking the words and have it all come out right.”

Cort made a pensive humming noise again. “That’s got to be frustrating. Have you been able to do anything else to fill your time? I’m sure it doesn’t hurt to take a break from the writing a little.”

Grey shrugged. He missed writing. Missed his laptop. Missed the blank page and his characters. “I used to read, but that’s out.”

“There are audiobooks. We’ll see about setting you up with some before I leave today. It’s best if you keep doing the things you love.”

“What is it you’re supposed to help me with?” Grey suddenly demanded. He didn’t want to talk about himself and all the things he couldn’t do anymore.

“I’m here to help you adjust to your new reality. I’ll show you how to be independent again.” Cort’s footsteps crossed the room, and he was now right in front of Grey. “I don’t know about you, but I’m thirsty. Talking to you is thirsty business.”

Grey snorted. Oh, he could see right through this man. He was transparent even to a blind man. He wanted to teach Grey something in the kitchen. Why not? He could play along. Not like he was doing anything else with his day. “Would you like a drink?”