Corbyn was watching her face now, his usual guardedness temporarily set aside. “How did she manage?”
“She learned to write with her left hand, though it was never as fluid. Later, when technology improved, she started using voice-to-text software.” Sadie smiled slightly at the memory. “She hated it at first. She said it made her feel like she was talking to herself, but it gave her back something she’d lost.”
“I’m impressed,” he replied. “I tried to use one of those, but the words wouldn’t come at all. I just sat there staring at a blank screen.”
He shifted in his seat, and it drew him closer. His leg brushed against her knee, and she felt her breath catch. When she looked up, their faces were only inches apart, and this time she couldn’t look away.
Something shifted in Sadie’s consciousness; that strange sense of déjà vu returned, and with it came all those memories of another pair of striking blue eyes.
Corbyn tensed suddenly, and he drew his hand back, breaking the spell. Sadie found herself staring down at her now-emptyhand, trying to calm her racing heart. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had felt something too, and her mind was a whirlwind as she tried to figure out how to broach the subject. His dark hair and blue eyes certainly matched her memory from all those years ago, but what were the odds?
“That should be sufficient,” he said, his voice noticeably rougher. He flexed his fingers experimentally, refusing to meet her eyes. “Thank you.”
Sadie leaned back in her chair, giving him space as she wiped the excess cream from her hands with a tissue.
“Of course. Anytime.”
Looking over, she noticed Corbyn’s expression was closed again, the momentary openness gone. But when he finally looked at her, his eyes held something new, and she wondered if it was perhaps a touch of appreciation.
“You’re the first person who’s touched my hand without… flinching,” he told her abruptly. “Besides my sister and Edie.”
The admission hung in the air between them. Something tightened in Sadie’s chest, and an ache formed at the thought that anyone would shy away from him because of his scars.
“There’s nothing to flinch from,” she answered, making herself hold his gaze, understanding the importance of this moment. She was being included in a tiny group of people he trusted, and that had her pulse quickening for an entirely different reason.
Corbyn studied her face as if searching for any sign that she might not be sincere. She knew he would find none, and he nodded once before turning back to his laptop.
Sadie watched as he positioned his hands over the keys, the left one still limited in its movement, but his fingers more relaxed than they had been earlier. His hands hovered, and she could sense his frustration building again before he even moved. The thought of the tediousness of the task clearly weighed on him.
“Wait,” she said, sensing an opening as she reached for her bag. “I think I have something that might help.”
She withdrew her tablet and stylus, setting them on the desk beside his laptop. His expression instantly changed, and he closed himself off, but she proceeded anyway.
“There’s an app that will convert your handwriting to text,” she explained, opening it to demonstrate. “You write with this, and it transcribes automatically. No keyboard required.”
Corbyn regarded the technology as if it were a snake in the grass waiting to strike, and he practically sneered, “You know how I feel about that thing, Reed.”
“Yes, I am well aware of your fear of living in this decade,” Sadie quipped at the expected stubbornness, earning an eye roll in response.
He made no move to take the stylus she offered, instead countering, “My way works just fine.”
“If you like redundancy,” Sadie replied, raising an eyebrow as if challenging him to disagree. “With this, you only have to write it once. You can still edit and do everything by hand, but it would save you time transcribing it.”
Corbyn’s mouth tightened, his eyes narrowing. “And where exactly do these words go once they’re transcribed? Some corporate server where anyone could access them?”
“It’s all stored locally on the device,” Sadie explained patiently. “No cloud backup unless you specifically enable it. Which you don’t have to.” Tapping the settings icon, she added, “Look, I’ve already disabled all the sharing features. Your manuscript stays right here, visible only to you.”
He raised an eyebrow skeptically. “After what happened with the last leaked manuscript, I can’t afford to take chances.”
“I understand.” She softened her voice in what she hoped would be a coaxing tone. “But technology isn’t the enemy. Sometimes, it’s just a tool that might make things easier.”
Corbyn studied the tablet for a long moment, his brow furrowing as he considered the device before him. She could see all of the conflicting emotions playing on his face—apprehension, distrust, and even a bit of curiosity. It was the last one that had her breaking the silence after nearly a minute of his intense staring.
“Humor me. Keep it overnight and give it a try. If you hate it, I promise never to mention it again.”
She knew this could potentially backfire, but if it ultimately helped him, then that was a risk she was willing to take. He looked up at her, his eyes holding hers for a long moment before he spoke again.
“You don’t need it?”
