Blind Warrior (The Weavers Circle 3)

“Anything in here you want to get rid of? Clothes you haven’t worn in a long time? I always tell my clients this is a good time to tidy up the closet.” Cort came toward him and laid something else on the bed. “Can’t see you wearing this corduroy jacket. It looks ancient.”

Grey knew just what jacket he was talking about and no, he didn’t wear it anymore, but he’d hung on to it for years because he’d finished his first book while wearing it. “Just put it in the back.”

“Got it. You okay with me going through the drawers?”

“I’ve got nothing to hide in them,” Grey drawled with a small half grin. “All the fun stuff is in the nightstand.”

“I don’t need to go through that. I got a sneaking suspicion that you know what’s in there by touch.” Cort laughed and Grey snorted at him. That was not a lie.

While Cort explained what he was doing and how he was sorting, Grey stared toward the window again. He must have imagined that flash of light. He fumbled a little with the blinds until he finally got the rod to twist them open. He visibly jumped when Cort’s hand touched his spine.

“Sorry,” Cort murmured. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll be sure to make more noise next time.”

“You’re fine.”

“I know it’s hard to have someone here, going through your things. I’d like to do it with you, if you wouldn’t mind. Show you what I’m doing.”

He had a job to do and the faster Grey helped him, the faster he would leave. With a nod, Grey followed him to the drawer and listened as Cort explained about dividing up clothes according to what they were.

Again, he felt a deep appreciation for people who lived with this. He’d relied on his sight for nearly everything, and not having it left him feeling vulnerable, something he’d only felt when being chased by pestilents.

Why couldn’t he have a normal fucking life? Then he wouldn’t have been hit in the head, and he wouldn’t be sure that his new disability would hamper what the Weavers were supposed to do.

He’d be in Oregon, writing his detective novels with his sight intact.

Cort touched his arm—the man sure was touchy-feely—and leaned in close. “You want me to help you with the things in your bathroom or leave that for tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine.” They hadn’t done much, but tiredness pulled at him. “I can fumble my way around the bathroom anyway. I’m just…I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“I gotcha. We’ve had a good start. You got some new toys to play with tonight,” Cort said enthusiastically. “Tomorrow, we’re putting in a full session. You’re gonna be sick of me.”

“Too late.” But Grey gave him the smile he was working so damn hard for. Hell, he’d put up with Grey’s cranky ass. He’d earned it.

“Good. Means I did my job. Now, how about you walk me to the door, and then you can collapse for a little while before one of your friends comes to grab you for dinner?”

Grey nodded and started to walk out of the bedroom.

“Do you have a white cane yet?” Cort asked as he wrapped strong fingers around Grey’s arm.

He shook his head. He’d not been willing to cave on that point yet, but it was clear his sight wasn’t going to return as quickly as he’d hoped. “I’ll get Dane to help me order one online.”

“Good. You’ll find it helps a lot, especially when you’re in unfamiliar surroundings. Helps you find those sneaky trees. I should have brought an extra.”

“You brought enough.” He cleared his throat and paused in the kitchen near the door. “Thank you for coming here.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’ll be back at nine a.m. tomorrow, and we’ll get more done. It was nice meeting you, Grey.”

“You, too.” There. He could be polite. He waited while Cort grabbed his bag and left. Grey stood in the silence of his apartment, listening to Cort’s footsteps retreat down the stairs. When he couldn’t even hear that anymore, Grey drew in a deep breath. Just a trace of Cort’s cologne hung in the air, and Grey was alone.Chapter 3Cort stepped onto the back patio and carefully closed the door behind him before letting loose a heavy sigh. Two hours. Grey Ackles wasn’t the most stubborn man he’d ever worked with, but he was fighting hard for the title.

The first session with someone was always the hardest, the most emotionally draining. His initial goal was always to assess the person and their surroundings first. Were they safe in their home? Could he leave knowing they were unlikely to come to new harm? If something were to happen, would they be able to get help readily?

In Grey’s situation, Cort was at least relieved to be able to answer a quick and easy yes to all those questions. His apartment was cluttered, but it was clean. Cort moved a few things around to make it safer and easier for Grey. Grey also had friends close at hand who were eager to help him. Another great plus.