Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 58 🌶️

Emersyn

I stretch gently, careful not to disturb Fowler, who is still sound asleep beside me. The puppy is curled up in her blanket, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.

"Morning," I murmur, nudging Fowler softly. His eyes flutter open, meeting mine with a sleepy smile.

"Morning," he replies, his voice thick with sleep. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good, surprisingly. Lil' Doberman didn't make a peep all night," I say, glancing toward the puppy.

He chuckles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Guess she's a keeper then."

I sit up, the blankets pooling around my waist. "Hey, if you take her out for a bathroom break, I'll get started on breakfast. Deal?"

Fowler stretches, a mock groan escaping him. "Only if you're making those muffins I love."

I laugh, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "Deal."

He grins, scooping up Lil' Doberman and standing. "Good morning, little baby."

I watch them leave the room, the puppy wriggling excitedly in his arms. I shake off the lingering threads of sleep and make my way to the kitchen.

As the coffee brews, I pull out the ingredients for the muffins. Flour, sugar, eggs. I mix the batter, the rhythmic stirring a meditative process that allows my mind to wander.

Marx. The puppy. Fowler. Everything feels like it's moving at the speed of light, yet here I am, grounding myself in the act of baking. I wonder what Marx will say, how he'll react. Will the puppy bring him the joy we hope for?

Fowler returns with Lil' Doberman not long after, the crisp morning air still clinging to them both. The puppy is a bundle of energy, her tail wagging furiously as she skitters across the wooden floor. Fowler sets her down, and she immediately pounces on a rope toy lying nearby.

"Looks like someone's got energy to burn," Fowler laughs, dropping to his knees to engage in a playful game of tug-o-war with the puppy. I watch from the stove, a smile spreading across my face at the sight.

I turn back to the stove, cracking eggs into a sizzling pan. The aroma of cooking food fills the kitchen, mingling with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked muffins. I lose myself in the rhythm of cooking, flipping eggs and stirring a pot of oatmeal.

The peace is broken by the sound of footsteps, and I glance up to see Locke stumbling out of Cruz's room, his eyes squinting against the light. He grunts a half-hearted greeting before collapsing onto the couch, remote in hand. The TV flickers to life, filling the room with the low murmur of a morning show.

Cruz follows shortly after, far more alert and chipper. "Morning, Em," he greets with a warm smile, rolling up his sleeves as he approaches the counter. Without missing a beat, he starts helping with breakfast, cracking more eggs and setting up slices of bread to toast. His presence is a natural fit in the kitchen, his movements practiced and efficient.

The kitchen becomes a flurry of activity, the sound of laughter and the smell of breakfast mingling in the air. Lil' Doberman runs between our legs, her playful barks adding to the cacophony. Locke occasionally grumbles from the living room, his morning grumpiness a contrast to the rest of us.

As Cruz flips another egg onto a plate, he looks over with a grin. "So, Em, you think Marx will be surprised with the new addition?"

I nod, pouring more batter into the muffin tin. "I can't wait to see his face."

Fowler chimes in from the floor, still engaged in a battle of wills with the puppy over the rope toy. "He's gonna love it, Em. I mean, look at this face!" He gestures to Lil' Doberman, who's now chewing victoriously on the frayed end of the toy.