Page 25 of Discretion at Its Finest

My fingers curled around Eugene’s back. My nose found his hair, breathing in the comfort I didn’t deserve.

His scent of baby shampoo. Warm skin. A faint trace of sweat that warmed me from inside.

My little boy…

Reid didn’t understand why I had to pretend. No one would ever understand.

Chapter eleven

Genevieve

The scent of coffee and bacon had woken me before my alarm. The sunlight filtered into the room from the blinds, the bed beside me cold. No trace that Gregory had even slipped into it sometime during the night.

Getting out of bed, I brushed up before making my way through the halls. The house was still, the air in it less thick than it had been over the last few days.

Eugene’s door was left ajar, his room empty, but his laugh carried through the halls and up the stairs. I followed it down the steps, stopping before the threshold of the kitchen, just out of view.

He sat at the counter, one leg crossed under him on a stool, the other swinging as he pointed to something on the page in front of him. A stack of papers was spread across the marble, scribbles and blocky shapes, colorful galaxies that had stars and suns and superheroes. His latest obsession with all things Marvel comics and the occasional appreciation for DC. Even if he couldn’t exactly read them on his own, he still had a love for them.

Across from him, leaning casually on the other side of the island, was Reid.

His head was tilted, his body a slouch of calculated ease, one hand wrapped around a mug that still steamed. The other braced against the counter, veins prominent, knuckles flexing, the visual dangerously alluring for whatever twisted reason.

He hadn’t seen me yet. Or maybe he had, and just didn’t care to acknowledge me. He was dressed down, or at least his version of it. No tie, burgundy dress shirt sleeves rolled once at the forearms, the top two buttons undone to reveal a sliver of skin.

He looked...at home.

Not like a guest or the exiled bastard of the family come back to stake his claim. No. He looked like he belonged there… at my kitchen counter, in my morning, on the other end of my son’s laughter.

There was stubble on his jaw, thicker than usual, thicker than I was used to, shadowing the sharp lines of his face, making him look ruthless, older and more dangerous.

My heart pounded harder, like my body was trying to warn me and draw me closer to him at the same time. He was actually listening to Eugene, watching him with curiosity, his deliberate fingers tracing the edges of one of my son’s drawings.

“And she has a shield, like… like force fields, so if the planet explodes they don’t get burned up or nothin’.” Eugene was breathless, curls bouncing as he explained.

“What about this guy?” Reid pointed to another one of Eugene’s drawings. “Why is he so important?”

“He’s a super soldier. He uses a real shield and is super strong and fast and can beat up bad guys.”

Reid gave a soft nod, asking more questions as he mindlessly cut a pancake into smaller pieces before holding it up to Eugene for his next bite.

I hated this. Hatedhimfor pretending like he belonged here. For being so calm, so effortless, so fucking observant. For sitting in this kitchen and making Eugene feel seen. Understood. His full attention on the clueless little boy.

Gregory never asked questions like that. Never slowed down long enough to learn the shape of Eugene’s thoughts, let alone actually take his interests into consideration even if he was just a child. Sometimes… it felt like Eugene was just… an accessory to him. A bullet point in a speech of who to thank or who he wanted to mention. A future he could point to when the board asked about family values.

But Reid?

Reid was watching Eugene like every word mattered. Like itmeantsomething. Acting as if what he was learning was the most important thing in the world.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Stepping into the space, I smiled as my boy looked over at me, his grin widening. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Lovebug. Enjoying breakfast, I see.” I smiled.

Eugene scrambled off the stool, arms already reaching, the drawings forgotten as he threw himself into me. I scooped him up, anchoring his weight against my hip, holding him tighter than necessary, wanting to hide him away from the man who was too calm across the counter.

My tone stayed light, but my eyes flicked toward Reid, who was still looking at the drawing. He hadn’t looked at me once.