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“Sorry, sorry.” Her scent turned burnt in an instant and I cursed myself for being an insensitive idiot. “That was rude. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She sounded shaky. “It’s a scar. It’s not like it’s a secret.”

“I shouldn’t have touched you like that.” I wondered what sort of injury would leave behind a thick band of scar tissue on her arm. “I’m an idiot.”

“It’s okay. What do I do next?” She stepped closer to me again, so we were lined up like before, with her shoulder in line with my opposite shoulder.

I tapped my cane around a little bit, just to get her used to having it at her side.

“Now you can walk normally.”

She started moving, still hesitantly, like she was afraid she’d lose me. It was adorable, and I wanted to pull her into a hug.

I followed easily, the smooth asphalt making a pleasant clicking sound. It was windy in the car park, and car horns blared to my left, so the street was to the west.

“Should I tell you where steps and stuff are?” she asked, her voice to my right. Oh, yeah, I didn’t mind her being my sighted guide at all.

“If you want to, but I can find them okay. Usually, practicing being a sighted guide is more about you not being so distracted about warning me about things my cane can find, like steps, that you walk into obstacles yourself.”

“If I’m too worried about telling you what’s ahead to pay attention myself, it defeats the purpose.”

“Exactly right, baby.” The sound of tapping was a soothing rhythm. “Your biggest job is to tell me if there’s anything overhead I might walk into since my cane won’t touch it. But on a street, that’s not usually an issue.”

Technically, she was also supposed to let me know about changes in terrain, like going from carpet to tile; people; and other obstacles; but that usually distracted people who hadn’t done a sighted guide before. My cane let me know most of that information and it would be more seamless for her not to be suddenly worrying about everything in our path.

The other reason I chose to be on her left was random obstacles like streetlights, benches, newspaper stands, and stuff tended to closer to the edge of the street. Being on the inside allowed me worry about basic obstacles.

We started walking, and the wind picked up, hitting my face, telling me we’d left the parking garage. The sounds of peoplewalking around us increased, snatches of conversation I tuned out.

I felt the slight incline a second before Ember said, “There’s a small step.”

“Up?” I asked, even though I already knew. I didn’t know a better way to correct her this early on. She was already self-conscious about making me feel bad.

“Oh my god, yes. Up.” She slowed her pace. I tapped with my cane, and it wasn’t big enough to be called a step, but it would have caused me to stumble if my foot hit it.

“There’s this weird uneven place where the parking garage asphalt meets the sidewalk,” she said, sounding personally annoyed that the path wasn’t perfectly flat.

I grinned. She sounded just like Rian.

We kept going down the sidewalk, my cane making a higher-pitched click. Ember took us to the edge of the sidewalk, probably trying to give us enough room to walk almost side by side. I was almost six feet tall, and my guess was she hit just above my shoulder. I already had a good idea how wide the sidewalks in San Francisco were, but it was a good thought.

“Give yourself enough room to get around obstacles, too.” I tapped my cane for emphasis. “I still use my cane when Rian’s my sighted guide, if only to stop people from walking into me.”

“They still walk into you?” She sounded disgusted.

“Oh, yeah. I could do without the cane in a lot of places, but people just keep going, thinking I’m going to get out of their way.” I chuckled. “But I will absolutely run them over.”

“Idiots,” she muttered. “We’re going to turn the corner, and then the restaurant’s halfway down the block.”

“Nice day for a stroll,” I said. It could have been warmer, and the wind wasn’t helping, but walking downtown with an omega who smelled amazing topped high on my list of things that made mediocre weather tolerable.

“Is your studio far from here?” she asked, her voice bright with interest.

“What street are we on?” I hadn’t pulled up the address when I was listening to the menu.

“Oh, sorry.” She named the street.

“The studio’s only a few blocks over.” I squeezed her elbow. “You don’t have to apologize.”