Chapter 1

DARBY WRIGHTwrinkled his nose as he approached his kitchen, instantly smelling the problem. "I know, this is my fault," he told Rex, who pressed against his leg. Of course he had overslept, and poor Rex hadn't been able to hold it any longer. Darby had worked late because he'd been in the groove, and he'd slept almost until noon. Darby was, of course, solely to blame—Rex was the best-behaved and most well-trained dog he had ever met, so for him to do something like this meant that it was definitely Darby's fault.

The problem was that he wasn't particularly excited about crawling around on the floor to try to find it. The last time he'd done that… well, let's just say that he did locate the mess… with the knee of his pants.

He pulled out his phone and called his best friend. "Rex messed on the kitchen floor. What do I do?" he asked without preamble. He and Chris had met at Overbrook and grew up together, learning how to navigate the world in perpetual darkness. Darby had also had to deal with the fact that at ten, after years of encroaching darkness, the light had gone out completely.

"What are you calling me for? I can't help you find the dog shit."

"You're an ass sometimes, you know that?"

"Yeah? It's part of why you love me."

Or wanted to smack him through the phone—Darby was still trying to decide which. At least he had ordered something for lunch before he found out about his little mess. The smell was enough to kill his appetite.

"But what do you do when Token has an accident?" He was at a loss and starting to panic. In his home, he knew where everything was—except the doggie poop mine.

"I let Token outside regularly."

"Stop being an ass and help me," Darby said.

Chris scoffed. "Then use that app—the See for Me one. It's what it's for. I thought you used it a few weeks ago and you said it was good and the guy helped you with cooking."

"He did," Darby said, not daring to step into the room. "But for this…?" The truth was that the last time he used the app, a man with this deep voice that resonated right down to Darby's toes stayed on with him for half an hour guiding him through using the stove to make a pasta dinner. He'd wanted to impress his overprotective mom and dad so they would stop asking him to move back home. He knew they meant well, but he wanted to be independent. Yet here he was freaking out over some dog poo on the floor. The thing was, he loved the way the man spoke and the way he said rigatoni with a slight roll of the R. It was sexy, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin the image in his head, because there was nothing sexy about anyone being guided toward dog poo.

"Just call."

"But what if I get Reynaldo again?" The app specialized in local people helping others.

"Just bring up the app, make the call, and clean up the mess. That's all you need worry about." Chris cleared his throat as the doorbell rang behind him. "Now I need to go. I have a blind date."

"Har-har," Darby said flatly.

"I'm serious. Lauren set us up, and they all just arrived. Message me to let me know how things turn out." He disconnected, and Darby sighed before using voice commands to bring up the app and connect to it.

"One minute, please. Working to connect you with local assistance." There had to be more than a few people who had signed up for the app in central Pennsylvania, so he calmed himself and waited. "Reynaldo will be on to help you shortly."

"Oh, crap," he muttered just as the connection clicked into place.

"Darby." That deep voice once again sent his imagination racing, and Darby had a damned good one if he said so himself. He imagined Reynaldo as someone with strong hands who knew just how to use them. "What can I help you with, amigo?"

"Rex… my dog. I didn't get him outside in time." He sighed because he would much rather talk about something—anything—other than this with a guy he had been fantasizing about. Not that he had a right to, but geez. "I can smell it, but…."

"It's okay. Turn your phone around."

Darby did.

"I see it. The mess is over near the door on the mat. Do you have any bags?"

"Yes." At least he knew which areas of the room to avoid. He got one of the plastic bags off the holder he kept on Rex's harness and slipped it over his hand. "I'm all set."

"Okay. Turn the phone to the left and angle it down. The mess is about three feet ahead of you and slightly to the left." Reynaldo was gentle and kind as Darby moved forward. "That's it. Just a foot, right in front of you." He knelt down and gently felt in front of him. "Two inches forward… there you are." Darby scooped up the mess and closed the bag over it. "You got almost all of it. Now you just need some towels to wipe up the floor."

"Thank you." Darby straightened up and went to the trash, where he dumped the bag, and then took the trash outside and let Rex out to run and pee. "I didn't want to make a worse mess."

"Of course. That's what we're here for," Reynaldo said as a bark sounded behind him.

"You have a dog too?" He held the door and felt Rex brush his leg as he came back inside.

"Yes. Daisy is a golden retriever. She's reminding me that it's time for her to go out." Darby could almost hear a smile. Darby tilted the phone to where he knew Rex was.

"This is Rex. He's off duty at the moment, but he's my best friend." Rex knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. "He's always there for me and usually acts as my eyes, but this is pretty far out of his wheelhouse."

Reynaldo chuckled softly. "Sometimes you need someone who can not only see, but talk as well. And I'm glad I could help." The warmth in his voice drew Darby closer to the phone. He knew he was being stupid, but he didn't want this conversation to end. He liked the feeling that he wasn't alone. It had taken months of arguing and pure stubbornness to get his family to let go enough that he was able to live on his own. As it was, his mother came over almost every day, and Darby felt that each of her visits was some sort of inspection and test of how well Darby could manage.

"I guess I do," Darby said, trying to make sure to smile. "I have to ask. Do you work for the company or something?"

"See for Me? No. I signed up a few months ago to offer assistance. When someone logs in, we get a notification and take the call if we're available. It's a volunteer thing. Right now, I'm sitting on my sofa with Daisy next to me. She just came back inside, and the two of us are watching you on my iPad." Reynaldo softly told her that she was a good girl. "I understand that they try to match people in their local area when possible."

That struck Darby as odd for some reason. "I wonder why."

Reynaldo chuckled. "Well, I guess some places have heavy accents, and that could make it harder to be understood. At least that's what the website said. Also with time zones and stuff, I guess it makes sense to stay more local. I like doing it. I've had four calls so far. Yours was the most interesting. Though the last time I helped someone, it was guiding them to clean up the last pieces of a broken pickle jar."

"Been there," Darby said. "That was before I found the app. I had to close off the kitchen and call my mom to help me." He didn't want Rex to get hurt, and the entire time, he could feel his mother's "I told you so" ready to come springing forth at any moment. His doorbell sounded. "That would be my cheeseless pizza for lunch."

"Where do you order from?" Reynaldo asked.

"JoJo's in Mechanicsburg," Darby answered, carrying the phone with him to answer the door.

"I love that place. They have the best subs, and I love it when they're baking the bread. It smells so good." He sounded excited, and Darby figured he had to be relatively close. Not that it mattered.

"Me too." He set the phone on the table near the door and opened it. He had already paid and tipped the delivery person, so he thanked them and closed the door before maneuvering by memory through to the dining room with his phone in one hand and the pizza in the other. "Sorry," he said after setting the pizza down and setting the phone so it wasn't giving a view of his ceiling—or at least he hoped not.

"Hey, when JoJo's calls, you gotta answer. I should probably let you have your lunch, and I need to check on Daisy and get some lunch of my own."

Darby knew he had kept Reynaldo too long anyway. "It was nice talking with you, and thank you for your help."

"Any time, amigo," Reynaldo said, and then the room went quiet as the connection between them was gone.

Darby knew he was being silly, that Reynaldo was just a voice on the other side of an app, but dang, that voice did something to him, and he wanted to find something he needed help with only to be able to talk to him longer. But that was a little desperate, and desperate was something Darby refused to be.

THE AROMAof baking bread wafted through the summer air. Darby loved that scent. Yesterday he had delivered his latest assignment—a set of detailed car sound effects reflecting various states of repair—so he had the weekend to celebrate and relax. He was part of the in-house development team for a technology company, and he was able to work from home. They seemed more than happy with his work, and Darby liked that they didn't require him to sit in an office for eight hours a day. He often worked more than that, but he got to do it on his own time.

Cars passed him by as he and Rex made their way down the sidewalk. He trusted Rex to help him cross the streets and to keep him away from any obstacles. They had made this trip quite a few times, and Darby easily knew exactly where he was. Rex knew where they were heading as well, and the growing scent of fresh bread mixed with tangy sauce drew them closer.

Darby pulled open the door and maneuvered inside and up to the counter.

"Hey, Darby," Phillip said from behind the counter right in front of him. "How are you doing today? What can I get you?"

"Rex and I are good, and I really want one of your BLT subs, please, and a water." He got out his wallet and paid for his order using bills he had folded so he knew what denominations they were.

Phillip finished the transaction and handed him a number on a stand. "Just put that on your table. There's one right behind you and just off to the left. It's the same one you sat at a couple weeks ago."

"Got it, thanks," Darby said and let Rex guide him over. He touched the back of the seat and then slid into the booth while Rex lay down at his feet under the table, where Darby could feel him pressing lightly against his leg. Darby sat quietly, just enjoying the chatter around him, one hand stroking Rex's head.

The scent of a fresh cologne grew stronger, and he thought someone might be approaching. "By any chance, are you Darby?" That voice—Darby swore he'd know it anywhere. The deep richness, the way it wrapped around him. It had to be….

"Reynaldo?" he asked, turning toward the sound, letting it draw him in.

"Yes. I recognized you and Rex." His voice seemed to be smiling.

Phillip chose that moment to place Darby's sandwich in front of him. "I also have your water." He set it down, and Darby located it, placing it in his mind's space.

"Thank you so much." Darby leaned back, hoping Reynaldo was still there. He hadn't heard him leave, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd begun talking to someone only to realize some time later that they were gone and he had been speaking to empty space.

"Let me order. Is it okay if I join you?"

"Sure." Darby told himself to be cool and not to read too much into this. Reynaldo was a guy who had helped him through an app a few times. And while Darby couldn't help being a little excited, he was not going to leap to a million conclusions the way he usually did. Most of the time, not being able to see was just the way things were. He didn't think too much about it because it was his life, and he adjusted to the world the way most people did, only without being able to see it. But sometimes he was at a real disadvantage. So much everyday conversation was nonverbal. People displayed their emotions in their expressions or in the way they carried themselves—things that were lost on him.

Darby picked up half his sandwich and carefully took a bite. At home, he didn't worry too much about making a mess, but when he was out, he tried extra hard. Not that he always succeeded. He felt lettuce run down his hand, and he knew the stuff probably ended up on the table and his lap. He chewed and set down the sandwich, brushing the bits off himself, hoping he didn't make too big a mess.

"Good sandwich? Which one did you get?" Reynaldo asked as he sat down across from him. "I like their beef cheesesteak with plenty of onions."

"BLT. Though that one is really good too, but I have to get it without cheese." He took a drink from his water bottle, hoping he didn't have bits of lettuce between his teeth.

"Me too," Reynaldo said. "Can't have milk stuff at all."

"Same here." Rex lifted his head and then settled down once more. "I think Rex recognizes your voice." Even the man talking about sandwiches seemed sexy somehow. Of course that could just be him and the fact that he spent a great deal of time alone. Hell, it probably was. "I know I do."

Reynaldo chuckled deeply. "Everyone says that I have one of those voices." Phillip returned with Reynaldo's lunch, and the beef and onions smelled heavenly. "When I was a teenager, Mom and Dad made us go to church each Sunday, and I got roped into doing the readings a lot. I was pretty good at it, but the minister used to say that I had a great voice for it."

"The voice of God," Darby teased.

"Yup. That's what they all said." He took a bite, humming slightly as he ate. "Aren't you eating?" he asked with his mouth partially full. "The BLT looks yummy. Everything is better with bacon."

"I don't…." He hesitated, the voices of the kids growing up echoing in his head. He'd gone to regular school for a while, and at lunch the kids used to tease him because food always ended up on the table or on the floor. One kid told him they should spread out a tarp to catch his mess. Kids could be cruel, but that sort of thing stuck with him. "I'm sort of messy."

"So am I," Reynaldo said. "I never seem to manage a meal without spilling something on my shirt. My mother used to tell me that I was a one-person laundry brigade and that I kept the detergent people in business."

Darby began to eat slowly, less self-conscious than before, and when Reynaldo didn't comment, he let himself go and finished his sandwich before using his napkin to pick up some of the scattered shredded lettuce.

"What do you do when you aren't helping guys clean up messes off their kitchen floors?" Darby had been wondering.

"I'm a middle-school guidance counselor. Mostly I try to make sure that the kids in my school are taking the proper classes and that they're behaving themselves. I argue with the administration to make sure there are classes available for the kids who need them. The students who excel need to be placed in more advanced classes, while those who learn at a slower pace have the classes they need. The problem is that there is only so much money, so I spend my time fighting to get the classes and resources that are really needed. The rest of the time I meet with students."

"Do you discipline kids?"

"Some. I try to work with those who have behavioral issues. These are early teenagers, so a lot of them are really trying to find their way as their bodies are undergoing a huge amount of change. They lash out sometimes." His voice grew softer. "I have a family right now with a kid in each grade. The parents are breaking up, and the kids are all taking it hard, but in different ways. The oldest has stopped participating, while the middle kid has become boisterous and bullying. The youngest is somewhere in between, and all of them are trying to figure out which way to turn."

"Are there enough hours in the day?" Darby could remember himself at that age.

"Never. I always have more work than I can get done in a day, but I love it, and I don't think I'd want to do anything else. With my kids, everything is possible. I've seen the most troubled seventh grader turn into a top student. Last year at an open house, I found out one of the kids from my first year on the job was accepted to West Point. He was a holy terror in sixth grade." Darby could tell he was smiling. "That's what this job is all about." He cleared his throat, and Darby popped out of the mini trance he'd been in. "What do you do?"

"I work for Action Tech as one of their developer programmers. I also work on our library system to manage the flow of programs in and out so people don't overwrite each other's work."

"What sort of things do they make?"

Darby smiled. "So you're not a gamer. We make what we call video experiences, some of the biggest ones out there right now. A lot of what we do are multiplayer games that are played across the globe."

"Wait a minute. You make video games?" Skepticism rang in his voice.

"Yeah. Music and sound effects. I work with the teams to compose and develop the theme and background music for the games, as well as to perfect the various sound effects. Lots of games have weapons effects or driving sounds, but they sort of sound flat. My talent is giving ours extra dimension. I like to think I'm really good at it."

"Holy crap. You'd be a hero to half the kids in my school," Reynaldo whispered. "Do you use voice recognition software?"

"No. I have a program that reads me areas of the screen that I request, and a Braille keyboard. I like what I do, because computers are the great equalizer. They don't care if you can see or not. And they give the same results, no matter what."

"Are computers something you always liked?"

Darby wasn't sure how to explain it. "I didn't have a lot of exposure to them before I lost my sight. My parents agreed to a more basic kind of parenting, so I didn't get computer toys or video games. Instead I got lots of blocks, art sets, and a ton of Legos. Then, when I started to lose my sight, Mom and Dad put things on hold for a few months and we spent one summer traveling all through Europe. They took me to everything I wanted to see. After we got back, I was enrolled in a school for the blind, where they prepared me for the time when I'd lose my sight. It happened slowly, and I fought it and my parents every step of the way." He sighed and finished his water. "You don't need to hear about all that. It's kind of dull."

"No, it isn't. I have kids with hearing issues in my school, as well as some with ocular challenges. I work with them as best I can and empathize with them, but…."

"You don't know what they're going through," Darby said. "Before I went to the school for the blind, I had a teacher whose solution to my sight worsening was to seat me up front, and then she talked louder while she wrote on the board, like that was going to help me see what the hell she wrote. She then told me that I needed to try harder. That was when Mom and Dad found the school in Philadelphia for me. I was floundering, and I didn't have the skills to cope with it. I also didn't have anyone to show me the way… or that there was a way."

"That's what I try to do," Reynaldo said. Darby liked to think he smiled, but it was hard to tell. There was something in his voice that said that he was. "I should get home. I need to take Daisy for a walk. It's supposed to rain this afternoon, and she needs to get her exercise." Reynaldo lightly touched Darby's hand. "It was good to meet you in person."

"Yes, it was."

"And maybe we can have lunch again." He tapped Darby's hand. "I come here most Saturdays before I go home and try to tackle the mountain of paperwork that builds up." The warmth from Reynaldo's touch slipped away.

"I come here too."

"Then I'll look forward to seeing you again." Reynaldo got up, the booth creaking a little, and his footsteps receded from the table. Rex shifted under the table like he was watching him go; then he settled once more.

"Let's go," Darby told Rex, who stood. Darby took hold of the harness, and Rex guided him to the door and outside. The sun that he'd felt on his skin earlier was gone, and the breeze had picked up. He scented the air and told Rex they were going home.