The stranger’s scent came next. Good. Better than he would have expected possible. Like fresh air and this faint, musky cologne or aftershave.
His voice came from a higher place. He was taller than Grey by at least a couple of inches.
This was the first time, other than those at the doctor’s office, that he was facing someone he had no memory of. He had no idea what Cort looked like. It was disconcerting. His brain was trying to plug features together, but it was like grabbing random puzzle pieces from a dozen different puzzles. He wanted to know for sure. All he got was tall, strong, with a pleasantly deep voice. Friendly with a soft, southern accent.
“Grey Ackles,” he said as he shook the man’s hand. He tried to read Cort’s thoughts, concentrating hard, and came up against a brick wall. That was both comforting and alarming—two emotions that didn’t mesh well. Comforting because it was nice not to be overwhelmed with emotions, but alarming because he couldn’t read the man at all.
Someone else moved, and Grey remembered that Dane was still in the room. He’d been totally zeroed in on this new guy and had forgotten. It was kind of surprising. Even though he was largely powerless, he got glimpses here and there still. Stray thoughts. Or in Dane’s case, waves of guilt and worry. His friend was having a hard time with all this. As their healer, Dane took his responsibilities very seriously.
And so far, Grey was his one failure.
So, the guy tended to hover a lot. While Grey loved Dane like a brother, the hovering was grating on his last good nerve.
“You want me to stick around?” Dane offered. “I’ve got some time.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Grey snapped, then winced as guilt swamped him.
Dane had been nothing but nice to him, trying over and over to heal his sight. The man had taken on powers when he’d soul-bonded with Clay—the leader of their group of Weavers. Seeing soul mate bonds had been one of Grey’s powers, and now that was gone, too.
“I know you don’t. I’ll just leave you guys to your work.” Dane clasped him on the shoulder before heading out. Dishes clattered first, though. The ones Grey had left in the sink. Shame swamped him. Dane was still taking care of him even though he’d snapped.
The door shut and silence filled the room.
Alone with the therapist, Grey slowly made his way to the small couch and waved his hand toward it, indicating the guy could sit as well. He stared in the direction of the coffee table, feeling awkward having a stranger in his space. “I don’t know what the doctor told you, but this is just a temporary situation for me. I’ll get my sight back.”
“That doesn’t negate what I can do for you. I can still teach you to be independent until that happens.”
Grey frowned. “Seems like a colossal waste of time. On both our ends.”
“Oh, it’s not. But first, let’s become acquainted. I’ve been working with the blind for eight years—got my degree at the University of South Carolina; then I went on to the master’s program at Rosemont in Pennsylvania. I have a lot of valuable experience, worked with a lot of people who have been in the same spot you’re in right now. I feel I can help you.”
Grey remained silent, though he was impressed by all the degrees.
“There are a lot of tricks I can teach you. Tell me about a typical day for Grey Ackles when you had your sight. What did you do?”
“I was—am—a writer,” Grey said, correcting himself through clenched teeth. He was not losing his writing. Never would. He’d rather be dead than give that up.
“How exciting! I love to read. What genre do you write?”
Grey paused and licked his lips, turning over the enthusiasm he picked up in Cort’s voice. Was it real? Was he just faking it to draw Grey in? He couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t read his damn mind or emotions. But insanely, he found himself wanting to believe that Cort’s excitement was genuine. “Mysteries. I have a series of detective novels that follows the same protagonist.”
“I haven’t read a good mystery in a while. I’ll have to get you to tell me some of your titles, so I can pick one up.” Some of the friendly excitement drained away, and Cort prodded him a little more. “What have you been doing since you lost your sight?”
“Not much of anything.” Grey glared in the general direction of the coffee table. “I’m still getting used to this.”
“Doctor appointments and staring into the darkness?”
“Pretty much,” Grey replied in a strained voice, trying not to sound too sarcastic. Cort grunted, likely indicating that he didn’t miss the sarcasm.
“Are you hanging out with any family or friends?”
Grey managed a halfhearted shrug of one shoulder. “Some.”
“Long walks?”
“I keep running into the trees,” Grey said snidely.
“Would you like me to teach how to stop doing that?” Cort paused for a beat. “Put your hand out in front of you.”
Grey’s face snapped around toward him and he forced his brow to furrow. He pressed his lips into a painfully thin line. It wasn’t funny. This guy wasn’t funny.
Cort made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Now, you are one stubborn man. You would rather hurt yourself than laugh at my joke.”
“It wasn’t that funny. You’re not funny.” Yes, now he was just being contrary to be difficult. He couldn’t stop himself. It was almost a matter of pride.
Cort’s voice jumped a little higher in pitch when he continued. “Oh, I wasn’t trying to be funny. I’m a funny guy. When I’m trying to be funny, you’ll be laughing. You won’t be able to stop yourself.”
There was no stopping it now. His damn lips quirked into a half smile. There was a playful silliness to Cort that reminded him of Baer and Wiley when they bickered.
“See. I gotcha,” Cort purred, sounding so freaking smug.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re a funny guy.”
Cort nudged Grey’s shoulder lightly. “If I can make you smile, I bet I can help you learn to get around too.”
“Keep me from walking into trees?”
A low hum vibrated up Cort’s throat for a second, as if he were giving it some thought. “For the most part. If you piss me off, I might let your face find one or two.”
“Har. Har.”
Grey might have been faking his laugh, but there was no denying that five minutes in Cort’s presence had left him feeling lighter. Being around the man was so different from being with his friends. They hovered. He could hear the worry in their voices. But with Cort, everything felt normal. Cort wasn’t trying to coddle him. He didn’t sound particularly worried. He was just this slightly goofy guy who was determined to make Grey laugh.
“You know, I’m even better at my job than I am at making stubborn guys laugh.”
A bark of laughter jumped from Grey’s throat. “God, I hope so!”
“And yet I’ve gotten you to smile and laugh against your will. Imagine what I can do with the rest of your life.” Cort paused again, and his voice dipped low, becoming soft in its sincerity. “Grey, I really care about what I do, and I’d like to help.”
Grey’s scowl returned. “I really don’t need your help.”