Blind Warrior (The Weavers Circle #3) - Jocelynn Drake Page 0,13

Cort had no clue what he was talking about. Was he threatening to get owls to settle by Lucien’s bedroom?

“Anyway,” Clay said with a heavy sigh.

“For now, the main thing you can do for the house is keep it tidy. No shoes randomly left on the floor for him to trip over. Don’t leave dirty dishes on the counters. But also, don’t move things without showing him how and where you moved them. Keep in mind that he’s working from a memory of the house.” Cort paused and took a quick glance around at what he could see. The kitchen had been clean, and the only thing on the breakfast table had been a stack of letters and a vase of yellow wildflowers. There were few random things on the floor in the family room—a pair of shoes and a couple of magazines—but he’d seen far worse. “Remember that your laziness could mean broken bones or worse for him.”

“Got it. Keep the place clean. Get him out of his apartment. Treat him like we always did,” Dane listed.

“Like he’s an asshole,” Baer finished.

Wiley poked Baer in the stomach. “Be nice!” he hissed.

“What? Cort knows I’m teasing. Plus, he spent five minutes with Grey. He knows he’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s our lovable asshole,” Wiley countered.

“There’s so much wrong with that sentence,” Lucien muttered.

Wiley turned his attention to Cort as he was still struggling to hold in his laughter. “We were thinking about getting him one of those home personal assistants like Alexa or Google Home. Do you think that would help?”

Cort nodded. “That would be great, actually. Most of my clients tend to be elderly, so the learning curve for them is kind of steep, but Grey is likely to take to it quickly. At the very least, it would help him keep track of time.” He paused and looked around the group. “Any other questions?” They all shook their heads. “Good. The key thing is to give back Grey’s confidence and independence. My focus will be getting down the basics for him in his apartment, but I’m also going to make sure that he’s getting exercise and checking on his diet. He needs that if he’s going to heal properly. As we venture more and more into the main house, I’ll make sure to involve as many of you as I can.”

“Excellent. We’ll be here any time you need us. We want to be involved,” Dane said eagerly.

“But, no offense, we’re all hoping we don’t need you long,” Lucien tossed out with a smile.

Cort chuckled and held up one hand. “None taken. I’m sorry that anyone needs me, but we all know life happens. Because of that, I’m glad I’ve got the skills to help people like Grey.”

“And his family,” Wiley added.

They all stood and Cort shook their hands again before Clay casually walked him through the house to the front door. He got more glimpses of dark hardwood and a grand swirling staircase.

“This is a beautiful house you have here,” Cort observed.

Clay nodded. “It’s getting there at least. When we moved in, the place had been uninhabited for about thirty years. Dane was hired to rehab the entire place.”

“Lots of work for one man,” Cort said in awe.

“Too true, but he’s done a spectacular job. Baer and I have been lending a hand where we can, but we’ve also learned to stay the hell out of his way when necessary.”

“Smart man,” Cort laughed.

Clay shook his hand again. “Thanks again for coming out and working with Grey. I know it’s your job, but we want you to know that it means a lot to us. We want Grey to get the best care possible.”

“I’ll see that he does, but really, having a supporting family like this goes a long way to helping him heal and get on his feet again. Even if he never gets his sight back.”

Clay’s expression became dour, but he nodded in agreement. Cort always saw himself as being pragmatic. There was nothing wrong with optimism and positive thinking. God knew it had gotten him through some tough times. But he’d seen a lot of clients suffer some terrible setbacks when they clung too long to the hope that their sight was going to improve when the doctors had been making it clear that it was an unlikely scenario.

“Tomorrow, then?” Clay asked.

“Bright and early at nine a.m.” Cort started down the stairs and stopped himself. “Is there a better place for me to park when I’m