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 notourhouse.”
“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.”
