Not My Brute (Angels of War Series #2)

Chapter Thirty-three

Thank you all for you wonderful messages! You're amazing! ❤️

...

It's so nice to wake up to your home comforts. I spent every morning missing them when I was away so it's cathartic to hear the animals waking up outside and to smell the coffee brewing downstairs. My body shuffles around in the bed to wake up my muscles when my phone drops out of the bed and onto the floor.

The thudding from the staircase stops me from moving to pick it up because I know any second the dogs will ambush me. I count to five and get to two before the bedroom door flies open and Buster leaps up out of nowhere, followed by Rusty the Jack Russel and Mohawk the white Boxer.

My eyes seal shut when all three of their tongues come out to slap me across my face. I squeal not able to stop the giggles when they all bombard me with their weight on my chest. I could tell Buster's bark from a mile away, so when a deep woof echoes in my ear I know it's him.

"Mum, get up here. I know you set me up," I shout, imagining her telling them to come and get me from the bottom of the stairs.

I hear her laugh. "I'm busy making pancakes for Oscar. You should come down here and see him. He can't wait to see you!"

"Oscar's here?" I respond.

If he's here then that means Bret is too. I assumed that he went home after putting me to bed, but I must be wrong. Unless he went home, picked up his son and came back here before I woke up.

"Yes, now get your gorgeous little ass down here, baby," she cackles, her voice fading when she leaves wherever she was standing.

Letting out a long, deep breath, I stroke the dog's fur, one by one before pushing them off and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I grab the brush to straighten out kinks and run my fingers underneath my eyes where the mascara left on my lashes bled onto the skin.

Me and my tribe of dogs head downstairs with me clinging to the banister while they all push me out of the way to get down the bottom. I can't help but smile when the gorgeous Oscar comes out of the kitchen door to open his arms and try his best to walk over to me.

"Hello, sweetheart," I say, rushing his way when he stumbles a few steps to collect him in my arms.

"Hi," he responds, and I feel another gaze on me.

We pull back and he steps back to meet Bret's chest, staring up at his dad like he's his entire world. "Daddy made you his special," he stops for a break, looking panicked when he can't seem to get the words out.

Bret wraps his arms around him from behind. "It's okay, bud. You're doing good. Keep going."

Taking his dad's encouragement, Oscar carries on. "It's his special milky shake. He puts chocolate in it and yummy peanut butter."

Trying to encourage him, I make a big fuss. "Those are all of my favourite things. Are you going to have some too?"

Oscar nods his head. "Yes."

"Lead the way," I respond, trailing after them when Bret turns Oscar around to face the door.

Mum is setting out the food on the breakfast bar, singing out a tune that Oscar recognises. Smiling big, he tries his best to sing along, melting my heart entirely. I think it's 'Wheels on the Bus' and I can't help but watch as Bret begins to act out the actions of the song along with his son.

Mum hands me a plate and points to the different platters of food laid out. I go for some scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes and hash browns, trying to fit an American style pancake on the edge so I can sample some of the diced strawberries and maple syrup.