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“Rocks, trees, and weeds, Lee. What the hell is so appealing about that? And for Christ’s sake, did they just make saddles here, or were there actual horses stabled here?” She sniffs the air even as she scuffs her high-heeled boot on the office subfloor I can visualize being ripped out and replaced so easily with cabled wire bundled tightly beneath it.

I open my mouth and quickly snap it shut. Much like my twin was made for the new stardom she’s beginning to enjoy since she was first spotted singing at a nightclub in Manhattan, I was made for the shadows—those housed by the bits and bytes of the far reaches of the internet, to be exact.

My mother jokingly called the differences in our careers the first branches off the trunk of the Lee Tree. “It doesn’t mean you aren’t as close as ever, but you’re developing your own personalities,” she explained when Lee got in my face about why I wouldn’t waste a credit hour at MIT to take “A music theory course. Just one. I take computer science, Lee. Why can’t you do this for me?” she shouted.

Back then, I fought a war with myself to share with her what I was really doing, but I’d taken a vow. I couldn’t; I still can’t. Now without endangering us all.

Lee wanders up next to me. “The only thing I can say about it that’s a benefit is you’d be the same distance from me as the parents.”

“And I’d have better shopping,” I joke.

“That’s the truth.” Saratoga Springs is an adorable college town that sports some of the finest horse racing in the country, attracting a high-end clientele and some exclusive boutiques. “I personally don’t understand why people flock here…”

I interrupt her. “You might one day. There’s an incredible concert pavilion here.”

She stills. Uncertainty leaks into her voice, “Do you really think so?”

“Of course I do! Why this sudden doubt?” Lee’s talent is being bandied about by some of the bigger names in music.

“Here you are buying a building—Christ, Lee, a building—and I’m still hoping I can sell out theaters in New York.”

I grab her hand and squeeze hard. “I believe in you.”

“You have to; you’re a part of me. I bet it’s taking me longer because you used to suck down my oxygen in the womb,” she grumbles. But she still bumps my shoulder, showing her gratitude for my never-ending support.

“No, I believe in you because you’re doing this because you love it. Not for money, not for entitlement, but because you have to sing in a way most people need to do things like breathe. And get over yourself. I didn’t take your oxygen; you likely took mine for those pipes.” A grin lifts her lips, so I continue. “We might be two people—very different ones—but you’ll always complete me, Lee. You always have, always will. I’m not whole without you.” I remind her of the very simple reason we call each other by the same name—where it matters the most, we’ve been the same since we both cried to be free from our mother’s womb.

A second later, Lee’s arms are wrapped around me. “You’re right.”

“I always am,” I remind her drolly.

She pinches me before admitting, “I got scared for a moment. It’s real. You’re not going to be nearby.”

I reassure her, “I’m just a phone call away.”

“I know. And no matter what, you’re right here.” She wedges her hand between us to press her fingers against her heart. Blowing out a gusty sigh, she declares, “I just have to persevere. I can do this.”

“You can. In fact, I’m so certain of it, I’ll make you this bet.”

“What’s that?”

“When you become some big-name star, I’ll do my best to keep the tabloids off your back.”

She shakes with laughter. “Now that, my darling sister, is a dare.”

I groan. “What did I just do?”

“For once, you were impulsive. Now, let me be practical in return. Make an offer on the building. It’s exactly what you’ve been looking for.” Lee pulls back, and we communicate without words.

It’s the beginning of the rest of our lives. And as always, she’s there for me.

Just like I’ll always be there for her.

***

A few weeks later, I’m down in Manhattan to spend a long weekend with Lee. We’re wandering around the city to walk off her nerves due to the show she’s performing that night. Impulsively, she’s decided she has to have the outfit on display in the window of the largest Free People I’ve ever seen. Just as she dodges in between the people meandering at Rockefeller Center to make a dash for the door, my phone rings. Glancing at it, I see it’s my Realtor.

Indicating I’ll follow her in just a moment, I answer it and ask Shari, “Give me some good news.”

If you truly believe acquiring that run-down building is good news, I guess that’s what I have. I even got it for lower than asking.”

The emotions coursing through me must be better than having won the lottery. My pulse is leaping, and my heart is pounding. I know I just won the first battle in the many wars I’m about to fight on behalf of what I know is fair and righteous—a mission that’s been instilled in me for years. And when my plans are complete, the people I plan on recruiting to join me will be ready to charge a ridiculous amount for the things we’ve already been doing. “It’s perfect for what it will be.”

“And that is?” Shari probes.

I ignore her question and instead ask, “When do we close?”

“Well, if you’re financing, that could take some time.”

“I’m paying for the building outright.” I learned years ago to leave as little of a footprint on the internet as possible. I plan on paying for as much as I can in cash. Fortunately, between an inheritance left to me and Lee by our grandparents, plus the money I’ve stashed away, I should be able to afford everything I need.

Just barely.

“Oh, well, if that’s the case, then terrific. I’ll call you back with a date.”

Before I can respond, I accidentally hang up on her when I’m bumped into by someone on the sidewalk. “Umph!” I let out an inadvertent sound as I stumble to the left.

A barrage of footsteps passes by me even as strong arms clasp mine. “Are you all right?” The intensity of this man’s ocean-blue eyes causes my heart to bounce my ribs around, making me forget what the hell I even cared about.

Almost instinctively, I reach up and cup his shoulder. “I’m…fine.” God, what a lame word for the man who transformed my insides into a melty pool of liquid wax.

His lips compress, doing nothing more than drawing my attention to them. My own part of their own accord in a primal reaction. God. What the hell is this feeling?

But before I can wrap my mind around it, he’s stabilizing me, declaring, “Good.” Then without another word, he strides away with a fluidity that pulls his dress slacks lovingly against long legs that lead to the most remarkable ass I’ve ever seen.

I don’t know what causes me to do it—he’s a damn stranger—but I shout after him, “Too bad I didn’t catch your name, buddy. Maybe you’re a ‘get them off and go’ kind of guy, but I’m not that kind of girl.”

He freezes midstride before whirling around. The only people looking at us are the tourists, which means pretty much everyone. His lips curve into a facsimile of a smile. “I actually do know who you are, Ms. Miles.” And it’s with that, he slips into a black SUV in the passenger seat.

“How on earth does he know…holy crap!” Overwhelming excitement for my sister overrides the flutters in my stomach over an encounter with an incredibly hot guy that still has my stomach doing somersaults. I dash toward the door of Free People, shouting, “Lee! I think you were just recognized!”

Our twin senses in complete sync for the moment, she happens to be coming out the door. When she hears me, she screams, “What do you mean?”

After I recount what just happened, we jump up and down, hugging in the middle of the sidewalk. 

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About the Author

Tracey Jerald knew she was meant to be a writer when she would re-write the ending of books in her head on her bike when she was a young girl growing up in southern Connecticut. It wasn’t long before she was typing alternate endings and extended epilogues “just for fun”.

After college in Florida, where she obtained a degree in Criminal Justice swearing she saw things she’ll never quite believe and never quite forget, Tracey traded the world of law and order for IT.

Her work for a world-wide internet startup transferred her to Northern Virginia where she met her husband in what many call their own happily ever after. They have one son.

When she’s not busy with her family or writing, Tracey can be found in her home in north Florida drinking coffee, reading, training for a runDisney event, or feeding her addiction to HGTV.

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