MY STEPSON.
I didn't know Lucien was back from camp, when I went home early from work.
My handbag placed steady on the crook of my right arm. I was about to fix my key into the door, when I noticed it was open.
Kenny was away for a business trip, and Lucien, his son, was supposed to be in camp.
I stepped inside, putting away my heels, the cool tile, sending a shiver up my bare legs.
Then I saw him. Lucien. My stepson. He was standing at the counter, shirtless, making scrambled eggs in the kitchen.
His back to me. 6’4” of solid hard-earned muscles from years of endless workouts and morning runs. He was very muscular and solid, unlike his dad.
Kenny was a nice man with a warm, sweet smile, but Lucien was different. He was usually dismissive, curt, arrogant. His eyes always looked
