Neither of us says a word. We just go back to browsing.
We end up buying three books. Two for Madison, who insists she'll read them both this weekend, and one romance novel for me that Thorne keeps making suggestive comments about.
By the time we finally pull ourselves out of the bookstore, the morning has disappeared entirely into one of those Kentucky summer afternoons where the heat doubles down and the light goes thick and amber, pressing against everything like it owns it.
Madison clutches her books to her chest, already reading the back of one as she walks, nearly tripping over a curb. She doesn't notice because she's too busy telling us the entire plot premise she's gleaned from three paragraphs of jacket copy.
This is what I want for her. Hell, for me. A life where books, family, and happiness matter more than loss and regrets.
"Thank you," she says as we reach the motorcycles. "This was... this was really fun. Like, the best day I've had in a long time."
Something cracks in my chest at the earnestness in her voice. "We should do it again sometime," I say, taking her books and tucking them into my saddlebags.
"Really?" Her whole face lights up.
"Really." I look at Thorne, who's watching us with an expression I can't quite read. "Right?"
He clears his throat. "Yeah, sure.”
The ride home is quieter, more contemplative. Madison rides with Thorne again, her arms wrapped around his waist, her helmet resting against his back. They look comfortable together, natural.
Like family.
The thought won't leave me alone as we pull into the garage, as we put away the helmets and jackets, as Madison hugs us both goodnight and disappears into the house with her books.
"That was nice," Thorne says when we're alone. He's leaning against his workbench, hands in his pockets, looking younger. Less burdened.
"It was." I move closer, drawn to him like I always am. "You were nice, good with her. You're not bad at this whole surrogate-family thing."
“The family I grew up with might disagree with you,” he deflects. Dipping his chin, he looks at me.“I feel bad for the kid. She deserves better than the hand she’s been dealt.”
"So do you.”
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I was born holding a royal flush and still managed to fold.”
“Don’t.” I press my fingers to his lips. “You’re allowed to have struggled even when your struggles came gift-wrapped in bourbon and privilege. Pain isn't a competition and neither is regret.”
For a moment, he doesn't move. Then he pulls me against him, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that's different from earlier. This one is slower, deeper, weighted with things neither of us is ready to say.
When we finally break apart, his forehead rests against mine. "This is getting complicated."
"I know."
He pulls back enough to meet my eyes. "But I'm not ready to stop."
"Good." I kiss him again, quick and sweet. "Neither am I."
We stand there in the garage, surrounded by machines and tools, holding each other as the night deepens around us. Somewhere in the house, Madison is probably already absorbed in one of her new books. The estate is quiet, peaceful.
Everything is perfect.
But in the back of my mind, I can't shake the feeling that this happy moment is just that—a moment. That somewhere, a clock is ticking down to the moment when everything falls apart.
I push the thought away and let Thorne lead me inside, his hand warm in mine.
Tonight, I'm going to let myself have this. Tomorrow can bring whatever it wants.
Tonight, we're two people who found each other in the chaos, pretending we can be something that lasts.
