Not My Brute (Angels of War Series #2)

Chapter Six

My eyes spring open the next morning to a sleeping child's face, the creases in Emilia's cheeks telling me she's pretending to be asleep. The side of the bed that Cameron should sleep on is empty, which means he's already at work. It's barely seven o'clock, and he's not here... brilliant.

"Morning, Emilia." I laugh, placing a big sloppy kiss on her cheek. "When did you crawl in here?"

Emilia's eyes spring open, her teeth showing when she smiles. "Last night. I had a bad dream and shouted you, but daddy came through and let me come into your bed."

"I'm sorry about your bad dream, sweetie. Did your dad make you feel better?"

Emilia nods. "Yes, he sang me a song. It's the one about the doggy who found love."

My heart melts at the thought of Cameron curled up in bed, singing away the monsters in her head. It's at times like these that I realise he isn't all that bad. It'd be nice if he showed me the same affection too.

I love you.

I'm going to see if we locked the doors. Go up to bed.

That's what he hit me with last night after making love. Not that you can call it making love, it's hard-sex with no emotion. Wham bam, thank you, mam.

The bedroom door cracks open, revealing a dishevelled Timmy. "When's breakfast?"

"Good morning to you too, T," I reply, watching him roll his eyes.

I get out of bed and shove on my dressing gown, reaching over to pull the duvet off Emilia with a silly face. "You jump in the shower, little miss, while I make porridge."

"Ugh," Timmy says when he appears in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. "Porridge again? Can't you make toast or something."

I nod. "Sure, whatever you want. But, less attitude please."

We walk out of the bedroom and Timmy disappears back inside his room, ignoring his sister when she tells him to stop being so moody. Timmy takes after his father in more ways than one. They share a love of cars, moan about everything, and often think the world owes them a favour. When you catch Timmy on a good day, he's rather sweet, but when he's in one of his moods, he'll act like a bear with a sore head.

"Do I have to go to school today?" Emilia says, climbing up onto the chair, resting her arms on the breakfast bar.

I laugh. "Yes, you have to go to school today."

Emilia makes a sound of protest, fluttering her eyelashes. "But, I'll help you with the animals and everything."

I pull out the ingredients I need to make porridge. "I don't doubt it. But, you're still going to school."

"Does Timmy get to go to the animals with you?" she asks, sounding out of breath.

In steps the carbon copy of Cameron, his slippers dragging along the floor. "No, I'm going to work with dad."

News to me. I frown, weighing out the oats. "No, you're staying at home with me."

Timmy strolls over to the fridge and pulls out a small bottle of orange juice. "Dad said I could go to work with him. I want to ride in the Ferrari's."

"And, what does your mum think to that plan? I think she'd rather you rest at home."

Timmy tries to unscrew the lid, slamming it down on the counter when he can't do it. "Stupid bottle. I'm going to call dad. He'll probably pick me up."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, knowing he isn't taking it out on me personally. The mood swings are coming from his seizures. It's a horrid time for him.