Logan raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
“It’s my mom.”
“And that’s bad because…?”
Tommy dragged a hand over his face. “Because she’ll want to talk. Liketalktalk.”
The phone buzzed again.
Logan leaned back against the dresser, arms folding loosely.
“No one’s here yet,” he said. “You should answer. What if it’s important?”
Tommy hesitated, clearly debating ignoring it anyway.
The phone buzzed a third time.
“…Fine,” Tommy muttered, grabbing it and answering. “Hi, Mom.”
Logan turned slightly away, giving him space without actually leaving the conversation. He busied himself straightening the bedside table, listening only in fragments.
“Yes, I got your texts.”
“No, I’m not working tonight.”
“I’m just… out.”
Tommy paced slowly as he talked, voice shifting into that softer, automatic tone people used with family.
Logan found himself smiling faintly at it.
Tommy rarely sounded younger , but he did now.
“Oh, that’s this weekend?” Tommy said suddenly.
He glanced toward Logan, eyes rolling slightly in silent apology before turning away again.
“Yeah, of course I remember her.”
A pause.
Logan caught the change immediately, Tommy’s posture straightening, attention sharpening.
“Fifty?” Tommy said. “Wow.”
Another pause.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll come.”
Logan looked up at that.
Tommy nodded to himself as if his mother could see him.
“No, I’ll bring Logan. Of course.”
He listened another minute, offering small reassurances before finally ending the call.
The room felt quieter when he lowered the phone.
