Chapter 19

Kurt watched the taillights of Kelsey’s Corolla until they disappeared in the darkness. The two of them had managed to find a spot behind one of the trees where they could stand without setting off the floodlights while saying good night after their evening at Ida’s. Knowing he’d trigger the lights and disturb the calm hush that had settled over the yard when he headed back toward the house, he stood in the quiet a while longer.

The great horned owl that hunted in the area was across the street in a tall pine. Its low hoots punctuated the crisp night, along with the sporadic chirps of a handful of crickets. It was forecast to be the coldest night yet as fall finally crept into the area. The dropping temps made Kurt contemplate closing the windows, even though he was always in favor of fresh air. However, with all the body heat around them and the brick insulation of the house, the dogs wouldn’t get cold.

In the darkness, Kurt studied the big, quiet house. Like the rustling leaves and the late-summer insects, the Sabrina Raven estate seemed to pulse a beat of its own into the night. For 114 years, it had stood watch over this quiet end of the street. The house might be up there in age and in need of some TLC, but it could shine again.

How he’d become so certain that this would happen under his watch, he didn’t know, but he felt that certainty deep in his bones.

He thought of the look of surprise that had come over Kelsey earlier tonight. It had been after a second glass of wine when he’d declared his intention to buy the house when it went up for sale. She’d looked at him as if he’d said he intended to purchase Cape Horn. He couldn’t blame her. Just a little over two weeks ago, she’d heard him declare to Rob that nothing could keep him from heading west. She’d likely been assuming he still intended to head that way when the rehab was over.

But like Nana had told him, when you got caught with your foot in your mouth, the best thing to do was take it out.

This house was meant for him. Or he was meant for it. He wasn’t entirely certain which was which. He wasn’t sure how, but he’d get the money. His credit was good, and he had solid savings and even a decent amount in investments from the money he’d earned the last eight years. He was confident he’d be able to get a loan when the time came.

It was the same way he felt about Kelsey. One way or another, they were supposed to be together. Every sorrow, every loss, every moment of bliss… They’d all been little moments leading him to her. He’d known it before now, had felt the truth of it in both waking and sleeping hours.

Then he’d walked into the kitchen this afternoon and Kelsey’d given him that happy grin and she’d been so at home in the house. Making him think his dreams might very well be becoming hers.

And then there’d been the feel of her. Half the evening had passed before his blood finally stopped boiling hot. He’d never get enough of her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything, but he also wanted her to be the last woman he brought into his bed. How could he start that without trusting himself to fall asleep beside her?

The last few years, he’d been wondering if he had it in him to fall in love the way his grandparents had. He’d been content being single. He could manage himself and his ADHD very well. Bringing Kelsey into his life the way he wanted to might cause complications, but he was confident they were complications worth experiencing. She’d also bring joy he’d scarcely believed he was capable of having.

When he’d appreciated the quiet yard long enough, Kurt headed into the house. Ida’s incredible meal sat heavy in his stomach, as did his two glasses of Syrah. He was drowsy and content and deeply tempted to head upstairs to bed rather than collapse on the couch where he’d be quicker to react if anyone considered vandalizing the property again.

He did a check of the rooms, offering bathroom breaks to a few of the younger, more fidgety dogs, like Zeus. Aside from Devil, the older dogs were napping or gnawing on antlers or tennis balls, and a few were grooming themselves. Devil was five or six, and considering the shorter life spans of two of the breeds that likely helped contribute to his DNA—mastiffs and Danes—he was entering his senior years, even if he didn’t look the part. He’d been gnawing at the doors of his crate but stopped when Kurt entered the room. Now he was on his haunches, staring at Kurt with rapt attention, while tossing intermittent glances toward the front of the house.

“I’m getting the whole discontentment part, but what are you trying to tell me, guy? There’s not one of you who wants to be here, and maybe you don’t know it yet, but it’s a hefty step up from where you were.” Kurt knelt to inspect the kennel as Devil released something between a sigh and a growl.

“You’re going to rip out your teeth gnawing at these bars.” Just two weeks into the rehab, and it was Devil’s second kennel. The first one had only lasted three days. He’d gotten out of it right at dawn, as Kurt was waking up. He’d heard the giant paws scratching against wood and had rushed downstairs to find Devil trying to get out the front door. When Kurt approached, the giant dog had run into one of the front rooms and begun pouncing and snarling at the dogs in the crates. The resulting commotion was louder than the roar of a jet engine.

Kurt opened the crate and clipped a leash to Devil’s collar. Rather than taking him to the backyard, Kurt headed out front, doing his absolute best to make it apparent they were going out the front door because Kurt was allowing it and not because Devil wanted it so badly.

Judging by the minimal scarring on Devil’s legs—legs were what would take the brunt of the damage on a dog his size—it was unlikely he’d been fighting for a long time. He’d been microchipped at birth, but the chip had never been registered. It traced back to a veterinarian who had stopped treating him just before he turned one when his owner moved out of the area. According to Rob, who’d talked to the vet, the owner’s contact information was no longer valid, and it was against policy to release his name.

Devil overmarked on a popular tree trunk and, after accepting that Kurt wasn’t going to give in to being pulled down the dark, quiet road, headed up to the porch. He took Kurt by surprise by stretching out on the ground next to the door and letting out a contented sigh.

“I can’t let you sleep out here, guy. You might chew through your kennel again. We can’t have you escaping mid-rehab and giving those protesters something real to complain about.”

Kurt blinked in surprise when it hit him what he could do for the dog. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? With so much German shepherd in him, Devil was a natural guard dog. Having a good view out one of the big front windows might help him feel at ease. They’d been keeping him in the side parlor with only one window, and a small one at that.

It took a bit of finagling, but in a matter of minutes, Kurt rearranged kennels so that Devil could spend his kenneled time looking outside. Once he had the massive dog settled, he’d swear Devil gave him a gentle look of gratitude. It was also the easiest time he’d had getting the dog back into the crate all week.

“Night, guy.” Kurt headed upstairs with a smile on his face.

Pepper was in her room, napping in her kennel even though the door was open. Hearing him, she rolled over to attention, then clambered out. Kurt hopped over the stair gate and joined her halfway across the room. He sank into a squat after she greeted him calmly. He ran his hand along her back and down her side. When her only response was to wag her nubbin of a tail, he ran his hand along her belly. Her stomach was fat and swollen, and it didn’t take much work to feel the bumps from some of the growing pups underneath.

Whatever extra chaos the arrival of the puppies might end up creating, Kurt was glad Kelsey had pushed to keep her. Pepper was a remarkable dog, and he suspected her pups would bring even more good publicity their way.

After a few minutes with her, he headed into Frankie’s room. This week, Frankie had proven to be obedient and calm and eager to follow Kurt’s commands. Unlike Pepper, Frankie hadn’t gone back into an open kennel to sleep. Instead, once he’d shown a tolerance for Mr. Longtail and earned freedom within his room, Frankie had sprawled on the floor to nap, usually near the stair gate and door with a tennis ball or two within easy reach. He was the calmest and most content when he was near Kurt, Kelsey, or one of the volunteers.

“How you doing, old boy?”

Frankie wagged his tail enthusiastically and began to lick Kurt’s hand. Frankie’s stitches had come out yesterday. Now that the brief swelling from their removal had dissipated, he looked better than ever. The fact that Frankie would forever wear a partial wink and a lopsided grin would likely be something the slew of people wanting to adopt him would find endearing. The top half of his torso would be pocked with small scars as well.

“You want to know a secret?” Kurt asked, rubbing Frankie’s chest. “I don’t think Kelsey gets that Rob’s guys called you Frankie because it’s short for Frankenstein. So, I’m thinking we don’t tell her. Frankie fits, however it came to be.”

Frankie shoved past Kurt’s hand to lick his chin. Telling himself it was a part of Frankie’s training, and not because he needed it as much as Frankie did, Kurt picked up the blankets that comprised Frankie’s makeshift bed and carried them to his room. Frankie followed at his heels and Kurt refolded the blankets, placing them on the floor beside his bed.

“Frankie, lie down,” Kurt said, kneeling to give the blankets a pat.

Frankie stepped on the blankets and circled over and over before curling into a ball. Kurt stripped off his clothes, flicked off the light, and collapsed into bed. He was tired enough to begin drifting off right away. Thoughts of Mr. Longtail pulled him awake. He got out of bed and shut the bedroom door. The last he’d seen, Mr. Longtail was skulking in the garden, but the cat had a habit of joining him halfway through the night.

Yesterday, he’d found Mr. Longtail in Frankie’s room. The cantankerous cat had jumped the stair gate. He’d been drinking out of Frankie’s water bowl while the gentle dog watched from his mats. Although Frankie hadn’t shown an ounce of aggression or territoriality toward the unusual cat, he might act differently if he felt he were guarding a sleeping human. It was best not to test it. Besides, Kurt could use one night without fighting Mr. Longtail to see who got more of the pillow.

Spent as he was, he drifted off immediately, but not before hearing Frankie’s contented sigh from the floor beside him.