Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 58 🌶️

Locke's voice floats in from the living room, laced with sarcasm. "Yeah, because Marx is all about cute and cuddly."

Cruz chuckles, shaking his head as he sets a plate of toast on the counter. "Locke, you're just jealous you didn't think of it first."

Locke mutters something unintelligible, his attention back on the television.

I slide the tray of muffins into the oven, setting the timer. "Okay, team, breakfast is almost ready. Cruz, can you set the table?"

"On it," Cruz replies, fetching plates and cutlery.

Fowler stands up, dusting off his knees, puppy in tow. "And what should I do?"

I glance over, the corner of my mouth lifting. "You can stay on puppy duty. Make sure she doesn't sneak any bacon when we're not looking."

He salutes playfully. "Aye, aye, captain."

As we all find our seats at the table, the kitchen now filled with the comforting sounds of morning conversation, the door from upstairs creaks open. Marx descends the stairs, his footsteps slow, his hair disheveled, a clear sign of his disturbed sleep. He's still half in the world of dreams, his eyes barely registering the bustling scene before him.

He ambles straight to the coffee pot, pouring himself a generous cup, his movements automatic, routine. The puppy, noticing a new person, skitters over, her little paws patting against the floor. But Marx is oblivious, his focus solely on the much-needed caffeine.

It takes a moment, the world still fuzzy around the edges for him, but then his gaze lowers to the small, expectant face by his feet. The room goes still, all eyes on Marx, watching the realization dawn on him.

He blinks, looks at the puppy, then at me, and then back at the puppy. His expression is unreadable, a mix of confusion and the remnants of sleep.

I hold my breath, my heart thumping in my chest. "Surprise," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

The silence stretches on for a heartbeat, then another. Marx's eyes soften, a crack in his usual stoic demeanor. He crouches down, his hand extending towards the puppy, who wags her tail frantically, eager for the new attention.

"Surprise?" Marx repeats, his voice rough with sleep but tinged with something else, something like wonder.

The puppy licks his hand, her tiny tail a blur of motion. Marx chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that fills the room and eases the tension. He looks up, his gaze meeting mine, and there's a gratitude there, a silent acknowledgment of the gesture.

"We thought... she might like a home with you," I explain, my voice stronger now. "Fowler and I picked her out."

Marx nods, his attention back on the puppy. He scoops her up, holding her close. She snuggles into his chest, her little whimpers of contentment filling the room.

"You guys..." Marx starts, his eyes flickering to each of us in turn. "This is... thank you."

Fowler grins, his eyes sparkling.

Cruz claps Marx on the back as he returns to his seat, the puppy still cradled in his arms. "Looks like you've got a new shadow, man."

Locke, who's been quietly watching, nods his approval from the couch. "Not bad, guys. Not bad at all."

As Marx takes a seat, the puppy now comfortably settled in his lap, we begin to pass around plates of food. The conversation picks up again, lighter now, filled with laughter and the occasional yap from the puppy.

Fowler catches my eye, a silent conversation passing between us. We did good, his look says. I nod, my heart swelling with a quiet pride.

The puppy, now a little bundle of warmth in Marx's lap, yawns, her tiny mouth wide open in a silent squeak.