Page 43 of Ember

“I’ll die if I can’t listen to my favorite songs over and over.”

“And what are those?” I prized how much she loved music. I didn’t expect talking to her to be so easy, but it was.

“It changes based on my mood, but right now we’ve looped back into my weepy teen years. Lots of Evermore West, Burns, and some operatic metal like Shadowlore.”

“Gotta love the weepy teen years,” I said, almost giving Rian away.

Rian felt guilty whenever he met a fan, like he was personally responsible for them being sad he hadn’t made another album. I held my tongue, and we spent the rest of the drive talking about music. It was over way too fast.

“I’m going to park in the parking garage,” Ember said, sounding distracted. The same way Rian sounded when he was driving in the city. “Between you and me, I suck at parking on the street.”

“Oh, me too,” I replied. “Parallel parking is the worst.”

“You’re joking, but you’d probably do a better job than me,” Ember said. The car bumped over a little rise I associated with parking garages. The echo of the tires on pavement changed as we entered the covered building, and she parked a minute later. “It’s a short walk to Pascal’s.”

I got out of the car and snapped my cane open. I tapped in front of me, trying to figure out how close the next car was, but found empty space next to us.

Ember’s voice came closer. “I made sure you had room on your side, that no one was parked there.” She sounded uncertain, but it was a thoughtful gesture.

Something that didn’t make me feel like she questioned my ability to dress myself, but helpful.

“Thank you.” I tapped the cane around, getting a feel for her car on my left and the empty parking space to the right. The sound of the cane echoed, so we were definitely in a covered parking garage.

“I’m sorry if I ask dumb questions…” She trailed off, her voice softer.

“You can’t ask me dumb questions.” I would have moved forward, but even though she sounded like she was standing close by, I didn’t want to hit her shoe with my cane. “You already gave yourself the primer, so anything else is just…clarifying? Right?”

I couldn’t explain to her how much of a difference it made that she did some basic research. I didn’t expect sighted people to know everything about being visually impaired. Just knowing she wasn’t going to offer to pray for me or ask why I didn’t get LASIK was a relief.

“Yes,” she said, sounding a little bit more confident. “I haven’t trained how to be a sighted guide, but do you want me to? Or would using your cane be easier? I’m okay with either. I’m not ashamed of your cane or anything.”

By the end she was rushing through her words, and I laughed. “I’m going to use my cane either way, but if you want to offer your elbow, I won’t say no to the excuse to touch you.”

“Okay.” Her voice was back to sounding amused. “What should I do?”

“First you ask if the visually impaired person prefers right or left,” I said. “Hold your arm close to your body, at a right angle. It’s easier to go up and down stairs that way.”

“Do you prefer right or left?” she said, her voice taking on a lighter tone.

“Since we’re walking on the sidewalk, being on your left will be easier. I’m right-handed, but I can use my cane in either hand.”

“Okay.” I felt her hand on my forearm, and the urge to slide my hand up her body was overwhelming.

I moved my right hand down to her elbow, on her left side. I hooked my cane in my arm and touched her shoulder with my left hand. “Check our alignment, making sure I’m facing the same way you are.”

“Take your time.” Her scent got stronger, her voice husky.

I almost muttered about taking my time but restrained myself.Woo the omega, I told myself.You’re not a horny teenager anymore. You only have one chance to get this right.

The thought calmed some of my baser hormones, and I slid my hand down her arm.

It was the first time I was allowed to touch her, and I was hungry for each bit of knowledge of her body. I wanted to map her as thoroughly as I’d mapped Rian. My omega had a mole right above his left butt cheek, and I could have talked about where it was the same as any sighted person.

Her scent grew stronger, and I moved my left hand down her sleeve, seeking bare skin. Stupid winter months. If we were doing this in the spring, she wouldn’t be wearing a jacket.

I reached her wrist, and I brushed my thumb against her skin. Our sides were touching, so I felt her slight intake of breath. I moved my thumb up a little bit, puzzled when I hit a rough bump.

Maybe a scar? It was a thick band of tissue that ran into her sleeve. I started to follow it; most people’s wrists were smooth just above their hand. She flinched and stepped to the side.

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