Epilogue #2
It wasn’t long, though, before the little device made a major difference in her daily life.
No more sticking herself a dozen times a day.
No more wondering if she didn’t test enough.
There was a lot less guesswork, a lot less uncertainty.
She would simply get an alert on her phone if she was too high or too low.
Did Sugar still alert her too? Yes, of course. It’s what she was trained to do. But the device was faster and more precise. And, well, very portable. While we did still take Sugar a lot of places with us, we no longer had to.
So Sugar was slowly being phased into retirement. She would just be a beloved member of the family, not also a necessary medical device.
Even if Sugar didn’t understand why she wasn’t going with her mom everywhere anymore.
“She’ll adjust. Everything is still so new.”
Even if, somehow, this felt like how it had always been. That was how deeply we’d settled into this new life with each other and the dogs. It was so easy. Right. Comfortable.
But it was a lot of change for Sugar, who was used to her whole world just being Dylan. And to Mack and Molly, who had been so used to abuse.
Which was why I was only casually looking at local real estate. I did want to know what was around, what our options were. And, yeah, how much work we’d need to do before moving in, since most properties in the area had been sitting empty for years, if not decades.
But there were no immediate plans. I didn’t want to shake things up for Dylan or the dogs too quickly.
I was looking forward, but staying firmly planted in the present. Because, fuck, the present was good.
Each time I woke up with Dylan sprawled all over me was the best morning of my life. Every time she snuck into the shower with me was like the first time we touched. Each time she kissed me, I swear we both fucking melted.
It was everything I’d always wanted and never really thought I would get to have.
I planned to savor every minute of it.
“I also ordered some other things,” she said as she opened the boxes.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
Something lacy and minuscule got tossed at my face.
A barely-there thong.
A low growling sound escaped me.
I flew off the bed, grabbing her and slamming her up against the wall as my lips claimed hers.
Her legs wrapped around me.
A low moan escaped her as she rocked against me.
Oh, yeah.
I was going to savor every second.
Dylan - 13 weeks
Puppies were chaos.
Adorable, heart-warming chaos.
Nothing in the room remained unchewed: legs of furniture, moulding, shoes, toys, a random hairbrush that fell off the nightstand, our hands.
And while potty training was going well, three puppies only getting it right sixty percent of the time meant there were always messes to clean up.
If it weren’t for their constant kisses and the way they climbed up on us to nap in our arms or on our laps, we would have been driven half-crazy by their antics.
We loved them so much.
But we were happy to know that they would be going to good homes—all of them in town—so we could keep in touch with them as they grew up. So could Mack and Molly.
The only girl was claimed, of course, by Stas Novikoff.
Syn chose the more laid-back of the boys.
As for our confident, bold, energetic last boy?
He found a home with Czar Petcova.
It was going to be so weird to be without the puppies constantly in our space.
And it was going to be strange for me to have so much free time again.
Not just because of cleaning up their messes, but because I’d been doing a lot of beginner puppy training with each of them individually.
They all knew their basic commands, how to walk on a leash, some recall, and socialization.
It had been good practice for me.
After a little breathing room and decompression once the pups went home, Colter and I would be traveling back to L.A.
To see the girls, yes. But also because I had a three-week dog training course scheduled.
It was only the first step.
Once I had that one under my belt, Colter and I planned to travel back and forth to the school in L.A. until I got all the certifications I was after: advanced professional dog training, personal protection dog training, and service dog training.
It was a long game to get to the service dog part of it, but that was my ultimate end goal.
I just wanted to be diverse in my knowledge.
I wanted to offer a bunch of different services.
My end goal was to open a dog training facility.
Several of the girls had shown some interest in being a part of it.
I liked the idea of it being a sisterhood again. But in a more stable, healthy way.
“There you are,” I said, picking up Czar’s puppy and pushing him at Colter when he came in after being gone almost the whole day.
“What’d you chew now?” he asked as the puppy licked his cheek.
“Your beard comb,” I told him, holding up the evidence. “Where the hell have you been? I asked Saint, but he was being sketchy as hell.”
I usually thought that meant he was doing something with work. But Saint would normally just tell me it was ‘work shit’ and move on.
So something was up.
He moved the puppy into a football hold and reached into his pocket for something.
Then he jingled… keys at me?
“What’s this?” I asked. “You didn’t buy us a house without talking to me, did you?” I asked, stiffening.
“And risk your wrath? No. Well, yes.”
“Which one is it?”
“Well, I did buy a house. Just not our house.”
“You’re gonna need to explain that one,” I said as Stas’s puppy started tugging at my shoelaces.
“Well, we are going to be spending a lot of time around the L.A. area, and the girls will be getting out of their treatment facilities in the next three or four months. Everyone is going to need a place to stay. I figured… why not get a place? Once we don’t need it anymore, we can sell it or rent it out for income.
But we won’t have to worry about bringing the dogs.
There’s a decent yard. For the area anyway.
It’s a walkable neighborhood, too. I figured we could road trip it once the puppies go home. ”
“You… bought a house for the girls?” I asked, surprised at the rush of tears in my eyes.
I wasn’t sure why it was a surprise.
Colter had been nothing but supportive about them. Even when two of the girls had left the initial detox facility and went right back to using.
We just went back, talked to them, and got them back into detox.
He sent little care packages to their rehab facilities. He visited when I went. He got to know them. He seemed to consider them all like my sisters, like his extended family.
When Diana confessed an interest in going into law enforcement to specialize in sex crimes, he hadn’t balked at the idea of her working for the “enemies.” He said that he thought it would be a great idea for her, since no one could empathize with the victims more than she could.
Then he sent her memoirs from other victims who’d taken their pain and turned it into power.
When Emma drew us an adorable art print of cartoon characters of me, Colter, and our dogs, he told her that he thought she should get into writing and illustrating children’s books and sent her a care package full of art supplies.
And just on and on.
He was unyieldingly supportive of all of them. Because they were a part of the “me” package, sure, but also because he cared about them and what they went through and how they could heal and make amazing lives for themselves.
Now he got them a house to transition from rehab and into real life again.
Every day I swore it wasn’t possible to love him more. And every single day, he proved me wrong.
“For all of us.”
A horrifying whimpering sound escaped me that had him lowering the puppy to the ground, then reaching to pull me to his chest.
I did that a lot with him.
Cried.
I cried when a wave of sadness hit me. I cried when I was happy. I just… cried a lot.
It had kind of disgusted me at first. All of that old shit from my childhood coming back. But slowly but surely, I started to accept that crying was normal. It was the lifetime of repressing it that wasn’t.
He helped me with that.
Because he never once judged it.
Not even when I cried over a stupid card he got me once.
He just reached for me and let it happen. He didn’t make a big deal of it. Because, to him, it wasn’t. If anything, he liked that I was comfortable being expressive around him.
I’d been doing a lot of deconstructing of things I learned growing up in a toxic environment. I had a feeling there was still a lot of work to be done. But I knew that Colter was going to be there for me through it all.
Colter - 4 months
The clubhouse door flew open, making all of us turn.
It was church.
The girls and kids knew to stay away until we were done.
But it wasn’t the girls or the kids standing there.
It was a man I’d never seen before.
Face bloody.
Knuckles busted open.
The neck of a whiskey bottle in his hand.
A smile tugging at his lips.
“Home sweet home!” he declared.
I’d never seen us all draw weapons so quickly before.
Because… who the fuck was this guy?
And what the fuck was he doing here?
“Nice digs,” he said, looking around before focusing on the guns aimed in his direction. “Yeah, scary shit. How many channels does that TV get?”
“Who the fuck are you?” Slash asked, taking a threatening step toward him.
He didn’t seem to be armed.
But looks could be deceptive.
Though, unless he had a whole crew of buddies outside waiting to rush in and catch us off guard, he was insanely outnumbered even if he came in with bad intentions.
Seeming to think the exact same way, Saint knocked his brother on the chest, then the two of them moved toward the hallway, likely to exit the back and check the perimeter.
While the rest of us focused on the stranger.
“Me? I’m Hail.”
“Hail,” Slash repeated.
“Like a guy named Slash should talk,” Hail shot back, lips twitching.