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had made it next to impossible for him to learn to read.
    By the time James was seen by a developmental optometrist, a specialist who could actually help him, he’d been a freshman in high school, and it had been too late. When she thought back on it, she wanted to shake their family eye doctor who’d seen him every couple of years throughout his childhood, who’d assured her mom that there was nothing wrong with James’s eyes, that James could read if he wanted to. And while, technically, he was right—there wasn’t anything wrong with his eyes —his brain could never make sense of what he saw because he wasn’t able to track smoothly across the page or keep from seeing everything slightly double.
    Finally, one of his teachers talked her mom into taking him to a vision specialist, but by then James was convinced he was a dull-witted loser and refused the recommended therapy that could have corrected both problems. Though they didn’t know it at the time, he’d already found drugs and alcohol. A year later, he dropped out of school and took off. The last time they’d heard from him, he was living in Florida and had been in and out of rehab repeatedly.
    While she’d love to find a way to open, quite literally, the eyes of the eye-care establishment as a whole to the benefits of vision therapy, she’d settle for helping the kids she could. No child should be made to feel stupid because of an undiagnosed vision problem.
    James had been lost to them for years and now Xavier was gone, too. The ache in her heart was sometimes so sharp, she thought it might rupture that critical organ. She couldn’t imagine how much harder this all was on her mom.
    The dog trotted through the kitchen, his nails clicking on the linoleum, then padded silently across the carpeted family room to join her.
    Natalie smiled. “All through?”
    He sat at her feet, then leaned forward to rest his chin on the cushion, pressing against her thigh, as if thanking her. Her heart swelled with adoration. As he looked up at her with soft, liquid eyes, she knew she was in trouble.
    “Where’s your family, boy?” She ran her hand over his head, stroke after stroke, as those liquid eyes watched her. “If you don’t have one, you can live here.”
    The words were out before she really thought them through, though it wasn’t like he could possibly have understood her. She didn’t have time for a dog. Still, the thought of his waiting for her at night made something stir inside of her, an excitement and longing for companionship that she hadn’t felt in weeks.
    “Since you can’t tell me your name, I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you a new one. What do you think of King?”
    He gave her a disgusted snort and she laughed. “Okay, not King. How about Bruiser?”
    He looked away as if he couldn’t bear it, making her grin.
    “Not Bruiser, then. I’m half tempted to call you Wolf, but the neighbors might think you really are one, and I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
    But at the sound of the name, he lifted his head expectantly and barked once, low.
    “You like Wolf?”
    He barked again, his eyes all but laughing at her.
    “Okay, Wolf it is. Did someone already give you that name? It certainly fits.” She stroked his big head again. Would he be happy here while she was at work all day? Did she really want responsibility for an animal? This animal?
    Staring into those kind, intelligent eyes, she knew there was nothing she wanted more.
    Her hand sunk into the fur beneath his ear as she stroked his neck. “I’d be honored if you chose to live with me, Wolf, but I understand that you may already have a family. Regardless, you’re welcome to visit me anytime.”
    As Natalie returned to her work, Wolf curled up on the carpet at her feet, a warm, welcome presence. She’d worked for nearly an hour when Wolf suddenly leaped to his feet, baring his teeth, a low growl rumbling deep in his throat.
    “What is it, boy? What do you