Logan (Wild Boys After Dark, #1)(15)

A light flicked on down the hall, and he knew he’d woken her. Damn. She still hit the lights when she woke up, a force of habit at this point. He hadn’t wanted to scare her. He waited until she shuffled out of the bedroom in her ancient housecoat to call out to her and unlock the door. He worried about frightening her, but Mary Lou Wild had a sixth sense when it came to her sons. She sensed each of them before they announced themselves. Logan would bet she’d known it was him standing on the porch before she’d left her bedroom, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“It’s Logan, Ma.” He watched a smile form on her lips. Her hand trailed along the wall as she made her way into the kitchen. Logan unlocked the door and walked inside.

“Logan.” She never failed to sound happy to see him, even at five thirty in the morning.

He folded her in his arms and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry to wake you, Ma. I was just…” He shrugged, knowing she couldn’t see it, but also knowing she’d somehow sense it. From what she’d told Logan, she’d sensed something ominous coming and had told their father she felt uneasy, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t until hours later, when she awoke with a start and found the man entering their bedroom, that she understood her earlier apprehension. Her gasp had awoken her husband, Bill, and he’d leaped from the bed like a true hero, ready to take on whatever had scared the woman he adored. And adore he did, every minute of every day. The family hadn’t had much while the boys were growing up. Mary Lou had stayed home with them, taking on seamstress work from the dry cleaner’s down the road for extra income, and Bill had worked at a factory. But Logan and his brothers had never wanted for anything. They’d had loving parents who’d demanded they do well in school and pinched pennies to help pay for their college.

His father lost his life for some *’s selfish decision to burglarize their home. He’d gotten away with a small stash of jewelry, including his father’s family ring, an old DVD player, a television, a few pieces of silver—and their family’s heart and soul. Logan’s father’s life.

Logan would never forget that his father had given his all for his children. He only wished he’d been there to give his all for his father in return. He was making up for it now. He and his brothers took turns looking after their mother, stopping by each day to ensure she had groceries, to help her with meals, care for her lawn, and take her wherever she needed or wanted to go. And on Sundays they all got together at her house for a family dinner. Everything they did was out of love for their parents, not out of pity. Save for Logan, whose love was topped off with guilt.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here so early? Are you okay?” She ran her fingers over his face, and Logan held his breath. His mother would know in seconds exactly where his mind was. There was no hiding from her. She might not be able to see, but her fingers had some kind of emotion sensors. They didn’t miss a damn thing.

“You’re tense.” She reached out beside her until she felt a chair, and she pulled it out from the table. “Sit, lovey. I’ll make you some tea.”

“Ma, you don’t have to do that.” He didn’t try to stop her because he knew it would do no good. She doled out love through tea and talks, always had. And right then, maybe he needed a little comfort more than he cared to admit.

“Tsk. Sit, baby.” She moved with the familiarity of sight, pulling mugs from the cabinets and setting the kettle on the stove. She must have heard Logan walking to the pantry to retrieve the tea, and she waved him off. “I’ve got it. Please, baby, sit.”

He smiled as he sank into a wooden chair. Baby, lovey, sweetie. She rarely used their given names. He’d long ago given up on claiming not to be a baby. He and his brothers knew that to her, no matter how big or how old they were, she’d always dote on them as if they were youngsters.

She set their tea on the table and settled into a chair beside him with a sigh.

“I’m sorry I woke you, Ma. I was just checking things out.”

“Logan, baby, you don’t have to do that at all hours. That was a crazy onetime thing. I’m fine. Lord knows you and your brothers make sure of that every day.” She patted her dark hair. She’d always been pretty, and even though she looked as though she’d aged ten years since his father’s death, she was still beautiful. The fine lines around her eyes told of her age, or maybe of her loss, but her olive complexion and once blue, now slate gray eyes gave her a Mediterranean look. Although Mary Lou was about as far from Mediterranean as a woman could get. His parents had met when his mother still lived in Weston, Colorado, where she’d grown up on her family’s ranch. His father had grown up in Trusty, Colorado, not far from Weston. He’d been working as a trucker and had stopped in at the diner in Weston where Mary Lou happened to be sitting at the counter alone, waiting for a girlfriend to meet her for lunch. His father had spent the next few months wooing her. Seven months after they met, they’d married and moved to New York, where Bill had been offered a more stable position with no travel. Logan’s mother always said that he had a little bit of his father’s Weston charm in him.

He sipped his tea. “How are you, Mom? Heath is coming by tonight to take you out to the market.”

“Yes, Heath’s a good boy. He told me about your friend.”

“Did he?”