Series: The Weavers Circle Series by Jocelynn Drake
Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
A heavy sigh of relief escaped Clay, and his shoulder slumped. “Thanks.”
“You guys have got this. It’s only been a week, and everyone is learning. Grey is going to be okay. You all will be.”
Clay flashed him a crooked smile and lifted a hand in a wave. “Thanks. Drive safe.”
“See you tomorrow, Clay.”
Cort walked over to his black Honda civic and dropped into the driver’s seat with a sigh of his own. He was exhausted but feeling better about Grey’s chances than he had been when he’d left the man. Yeah, his mood was bleak and he was incredibly stubborn, but Cort could work with that. His job was always so much easier if there were people in a patient’s life who were there to support and help when necessary. Those guys might like to tease and crack jokes, but it was clear that they were incredibly worried about their friend and only wanted him to feel better.
As he sat behind the wheel, he stopped before pushing the button for the ignition, his gaze straying up at the massive three-story white house with the impressive row of columns and wraparound porch on the first and second level. Live oaks draped with Spanish moss crowded close, offering shade from the late-day sun while birds darted across the yard. There was almost a weird kind of magic to the place, like it was a hidden oasis that housed not one but two gay couples. And if the assessing look in Lucien’s eyes was any kind of an indication, the man fit right in with them. He didn’t have a read on Grey yet. Not that he was trying to get one.
Definitely not.
But it was interesting and strange.
And nice.
Chapter 4
Cort jogged up the stairs to Grey’s apartment, a strange twist of excited anticipation and nerves in his stomach. When he’d left Grey the day before, the man had been exhausted, but Cort felt confident that it was a good tired. He’d finished their session with a feeling of accomplishment. He wanted Grey to believe that he could handle this. That he could get back on his feet and live his life again. Sure, it was going to be different, but he could enjoy many of the things he once had.
Of course, even with the feeling of accomplishment, Cort was all too accustomed to clients suffering setbacks—whether physical or emotional—during the hours they were apart. He expected that from Grey, but he was hoping that maybe the man would hold on to the initiative and hope he had yesterday and power through.
He knocked on the door and took a deep breath, waiting to hear Grey moving through the apartment.
“Come in, Dumbo!” Grey shouted.
Cort’s mouth dropped open, and he pushed open the door immediately. “There is no way you’re commenting on my ears! You haven’t even seen my ears.”
He walked in to find Lucien sitting on the sofa, his mouth fallen open and eyes wide at Cort’s comment. One of the things he’d learned early in his training was not to pussyfoot around a patient’s lack of sight. They wanted to be treated as normal. Not ignore what was obvious about them.
Grey stepped into the open doorway of the bathroom, his hand resting on the doorframe, and for a moment, he simply took Cort’s breath away. The rumpled, slightly dirty man he met yesterday was gone. Today, Grey was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a dark-crimson button-down shirt. His hair was neatly combed and styled. He’d even shaved. He’d thought Grey was sexy before, but now…God, now he was dangerous to Cort’s sanity.
The only thing that hadn’t changed was the sardonic tilt to his full lips, as if he were constantly on the verge of making a sarcastic comment. And what he was learning about Grey was that he usually was. That mouth could very well be Cort’s downfall.
“I wasn’t referring to your ears. I was commenting on the fact that you sound like an elephant pounding up my stairs.”
Cort snorted. “How old are you again? I swear my file said twenty-nine, maybe thirty, but you’re sounding a whole lot like fifty-five. Maybe sixty.”
Lucien laughed loudly, rocking on the couch, and Grey glared in Cort’s direction.
“Twenty-eight,” Grey corrected stiffly.
“Go ahead. Say it. ‘Damn kids! Get off my lawn!’ ” Cort teased.
Lucien laughed again, and this time Grey’s lips did an interesting twist, like he was fighting so hard to not smile. “Asshole,” he muttered softly and then turned his attention to Lucien. “All right, you can go now. As you can see, I’ve got all the company I can take.”
Standing, Lucien stepped closer and briefly squeezed Grey’s arm. “Fine. Cort seems like he’s capable of handling your nonsense without backup. Baer wanted me to practice with him…er…I—”
“Yeah, I got it. Don’t set anything on fire,” Grey said quickly, cutting him off. Lucien snorted, recovering from whatever misstep he’d made. Cort was more than a little curious about what he was practicing with Baer. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what these people did for a living other than Dane. It was nearly midmorning on a Tuesday. Shouldn’t Lucien and Baer be at a job somewhere? Not that he was complaining. It was good that Grey had people close by should he need them. It was just…strange.