"Mm," Nathan said, which was not agreement.
I ate more bread.
"Dylan’s the most stubborn person alive. It's genetic, I think. Or—well." I paused. "Not genetic for me, obviously. But he got it from Rob, who got it from his dad, and it just—maybe it's in the air at Morrison family events. You breathe it in."
"You're very different from him," Nathan said.
"He's been playing longer. Works harder. Does everything right." I moved my hand. "I just show up and do the thing. So far that’s worked out.”
Nathan was quiet in the way that meant he was listening. Not waiting for me to finish, but actually listening.
"I was adopted," I said. Like it was nothing, because it mostly was nothing. It had been in the press since my rookie year, and surely Nathan had read everything. "When I was eight. Almost nine."
Nathan didn’t fill the silence. Instead he waited.
"I was in foster care before that," I said. "A few different placements. Nothing bad." I paused. "Nothing catastrophic. Just temporary homes. Everything was temporary and then it wasn't."
"The Morrisons," Nathan said.
"Yeah," I said. "Rob and Linda. They already had Dylan. He was older. He was not thrilled." A pause. "He came around. Kinda."
I stopped there. Not because there wasn'tmore. There was more. There were eleven other places and the system I'd built and the transaction that had been running since I was four years old, but because themorelived under everything and I didn't take it out and look at it directly very often.
"Anyway," I said. "They're good people. They gave up a lot for me."
I stopped there.
Nathan set down his water glass.
The pizza place did its thing around us. Someone at another table laughed. Sal dropped something behind the counter and swore quietly about it.
"I know," Nathan said.
I went still.
"You play like someone who needs to be worth it," Nathan said. Quiet. Factual. Like he was reporting something he'd been sitting on for a while.
I dropped my eyes to the table for a second.
"Yeah," I said. "I do."
Nathan picked up his water glass. Put it down. I watched him almost fidget, which with Nathan was its own category of information.
"And you," I said, because the honesty was going in one direction and I wanted to send it back. "Siblings? Back in—" I paused. Just a beat. "Portland?"
One dark eyebrow went up. He knew what I was doing. He always knew. But he answered anyway.
"I'm from Boston," he said.
I blinked. "You're from Boston? What about Portland?"
"What about Portland?"
"You worked for the Portland Ravens."
"Yes."
"And then came back to Boston."
