From The Ashes. Sharon Mignerey

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      “Boston.” He found her watching him as though what he said really did matter. Once he’d been conceited enough to think that it did. “Thankfully, my lousy season last year didn’t rate front-page news here.”

      “This is home?”

      “Yep. Born and raised. Graduated from George Washington High School. What about you?”

      “Transplant,” she said. “I grew up on the Western Slope. Glenwood Springs mostly.” She turned slightly in the seat, his large coat still draped over her shoulders. “Why do you need a dog, Brian Ramsey?”

      There it was, the bald question that had only a bald answer to go with it. The words didn’t come as easily as he wanted though he had been laying the groundwork for months now. This was one more step in the journey, and he liked the exchange he’d been having with her. The three words that answered her question would change everything.

      “Are you married?” he asked instead of answering her question. Extending these moments before the inevitable. “Involved with anyone?”

      “No.” She gave him a challenging look that could have meant he should mind his own business or that she didn’t want to be involved.

      “Me, neither.”

      “Good to know,” she said, her smile taking the sting out of the words. “What does that have to do with your wanting a dog? We train dogs only for the deaf and the blind as I told you during my speech. Do you want to help a family member?”

      He shook his head, studying her, in the middle of another of his daily realizations that everything in this life that he’d taken for granted for so long was precious. Driving. Looking at a pretty girl.

      “A friend?” Her eyes really were beautiful. She was close enough that he could see her whole face, even though his field of vision was markedly smaller than it had been a few weeks ago.

      “No.”

      She frowned, drawing his attention to a freckle at the edge of her lip. “Are you all right?”

      He took a breath and nodded. “Fine, today.” Absorbing all he could of her lovely face, he said, “I’m going blind. The dog is for me.”

      TWO

      Stunned by the news and hoping her expression didn’t reveal that, Angela watched Brian look away from her, then back, his own gaze challenging.

      “Now you know why I need a driver.” He gestured toward Sam.

      “Yes.” As with every other person she had met who had lost their vision, she knew there was a heartbreaking story here. As a professional athlete in the public eye, Brian would have an extra set of challenges. Not necessarily worse than what others faced. Just different.

      His expression was so implacable that she suspected he was waiting for that moment he’d undoubtedly had with others. The outpouring of heartfelt sympathy and the “I’m so sorry.” She was, but telling him so would only make him feel pitied. He didn’t need that, surely didn’t want that.

      “The first step is filling out an application, then getting you scheduled for a class—”

      “You mean after my sight is totally gone?” He shook his head. “Listen, I know others are ahead of me in that whole process to get a dog. I’ve done my homework, and I know about the two-year training stint. And I know about the preparation and class work that I need to do ahead of time. The thing is, I’m in a unique situation here—”

      “Privileged?” She hadn’t intended to interrupt, but the idea that he might think he could circumvent the system simply because he had money made her suddenly, unreasonably annoyed. With that, she became aware of the vehicle’s leather interior and the latest in gadgets on the dashboard. With his wealth, why was he seeking her help?

      “Fortunately, yes,” he said simply. “But that’s not what I mean. To me, having this warning that I’m losing my vision is like training camp. You’ve got a set of things you need to do to get ready for the season—get in shape, learn the new playbook, do the work to build a team out of a bunch of individuals. What I’m going through is the same thing.” His expression lightened. “A Braille playbook isn’t going to be easy to learn.”

      Surprised at his ready agreement to being privileged and intrigued by his comparison to training season, Angela saw the passion in him that had undoubtedly driven him to become an athlete good enough to be a professional.

      “Exactly what do you want from Guardian Paws?” she asked, her annoyance diffused by his explanation.

      “To participate in picking out and training my guide dog.”

      Like his statement about going blind, this one was equally forthright, as though he had given the idea a lot of thought.

      “Why Guardian Paws?” she asked. “There are other organizations, more experienced trainers—”

      “Who could help me?”

      His gaze searched her face, making her wonder just how much of his sight was left and what was causing his loss of vision. Diabetes? Macular degeneration? Glaucoma? Some irreversible injury?

      “First, you’re local, so it seems reasonable that the logistics would be easier. Second, because your organization is small, I’m hoping you’ll be able—willing—to take a chance on this.”

      “So you’ve already asked one of the other schools.”

      “Several.” He nodded. “They have a set protocol that works, and I understand that.”

      Sam turned the SUV onto her street.

      “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” she said to Brian. “I’ve got to talk with my partner.”

      “Is this the right house?” Sam asked from the driver’s seat.

      Angela looked out at the small ranch-style home where she lived. Her twelve-year-old Honda Civic was in the driveway. “Yes.”

      He pulled into the driveway, then got out of the car to open the door for her. She unbuttoned Brian’s overcoat and left it on the seat as she got out of the car. A gust of wind hit her, and she shivered.

      On the other side Brian was getting out, as well. Like the well-trained dog she was, Polly waited for her command before hopping out of the back of the SUV and immediately coming to stand next to Angela.

      “Thanks for the ride,” she said as Brian walked her to the door.

      “I should be thanking you for listening,” he said. “Anything you need from me to help you make a decision—” He laughed suddenly. “Well, make a decision that I like.”

      “I’ll call you.” She smiled at him, liking the way he turned his humor and his expectations back on himself.

      “I’m looking forward to it,” he said, heading back down the walk, this time getting into the passenger seat of the SUV.

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