Stepmom son

Stepmom stood at the front door, her blonde hair ruffled by a morning breeze, as she surveyed the well-kept lawn and neatly trimmed hedges of her, not stepson's cozy nondescript bungalow. Only now did step-mommy realize how much work it would be to make this place feel like home. Stepmom's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the porch behind her; not her stepson stepped outside, his graying hair tousled from sleep but a warm smile lighting up his rugged features.