"True." He puts the dishes in the dishwasher. "Apparently some women like to be pregnant, though."
"Some do, I imagine. But even if you don't meet your magical fertility goddess, you could still have a big family. There's always adoption."
He nods. "There is. I'm a big fan of that, too. When I was growing up, there was a family of eight adopted kids called the Sports team Terrys. They enrolled all their kids in every sport, and made them all play a season of it." He shakes his head with a smile. "I'm telling you; that's the life for a kid."
"Was your childhood so dull, then?"
Thorne purses his lips. "No. But it was just me and my mom for most of the time. Even when I started playing hockey, my dad never showed up to any of my games or trophy ceremonies."
"He probably wouldn't have showed up for your brothers or sisters, either."
"No." His smile falls a little. "But it would've been less lonely."
I reach out to him, squeezing his hand. "I'm sorry you felt that way."
"That's life." He shrugs. "How about you? What was it like grow up with a sibling?”
I can't roll my eyes hard enough. "How could anybody see me when there was a talented hockey player in the room?"
Thorne looks a little surprised, which is hurtful, if I'm honest. "Really? Beck isn't even that full of himself. Comparatively, anyway."
"Beck is fine. He's super supportive. He’s just very, very overprotective. He made it to every figure skating championship and every swim meet and every mock trial that he wasn't out of town for. He has always had a heart of gold."
"Then who didn't make the effort?"
"Our parents. I'm just lucky that Indie's mom came to all our practices and tournaments when Indie was still skating. If Mrs. Washington didn't adopt me, I think I would still be sitting, waiting outside the rink. My parents forgot me that often."
"That's wild. You are really good. Like, the ‘top twenty in the country’ good."
My lips twist. "I was that good. Now I'm... not. But it's interesting that you know my stats."
Thorne licks his lips, his eyes darkening for a moment. "I know everything about you, Mollie."
His words make my heart skip a beat. What does he mean by that?
Probably not. I've had a lifetime of people telling me one thing and then not living up to their words.
I wince as my ankle hurts again. But before I can react, I get a very tired-looking little girl tugging on my shirt.
"Bunny book!" Rosie screams, pouncing on me and giggling. “Read!!”
Gotta give it to kids. They don't care about your adult problems at all.
"The bunny book?" I ask. Throwing a look over my shoulder at Thorne, I ask my niece, "Want to show me which book you mean?"
"Yes!" She half-drags me toward her room. "Here."
"Two books!" I say as she grabs them off her bookshelf. "Is that what your Daddy normally does?"
Rosie climbs in her bed and looks at me with a pout. "Please?"
I laugh. "You're crazy. You know that?"
Thorne and I each read her a book. By the time I'm done with the second, she's out like Hypnos, the Greek god of sleep.
We turn Rosie's kitty cat nightlight on and stealthily leave the room. "Mission accomplished," I whisper.
"After forcing me to do a full range of silly voices, sure." Thorne smirks.
