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“Of course I’ve read it,” Jessie replied, her face filled with hurt. “I’m one of your subscribers. I figured you must have known that.”

“I didn’t.” Feeling like she had kicked a puppy, Jamie shook her head and wondered how she had missed that. To be fair, she rarely bothered to look at the details of the subscribers, focusing almost solely instead on the number. And by focusing, she meant being utterly obsessed with every movement the numbers made.

“I also read all the bylines of yours I find in the paper,” Jessie said. “It’s the only reason I read the newspaper.”

“Oh.” Jamie was suddenly lost for words.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

Jamie closed her mouth, trying to find her words again. She searched for a truth that wouldn’t be carved on a dagger. “I guess I just never thought you’d bother. You’ve nevermentioned them, so I just didn’t think about it, I guess.” The lie came too easily to Jamie’s lips. Of course she had thought about it, thought about how uninterested her family was in her passion for the truth, for her growing skill in writing.

Jessie pulled her face into a look Jamie knew all too well. The look she had named Jessie’s enhancing-her-calm expression. “I do. I’ve always read what you get published. And this is different from what’s usually on your blog.”

“How so?” Jamie grabbed onto the safer topic, easily pushing away the idea of her sister following her life far closer than Jamie had ever followed back.

“It’s not…” Jessie’s lips pursed together for a moment, the telltale sign she wanted to find a more diplomatic way of saying what was on her mind. Jamie supposed they weren’t one hundred percent opposite as she had told Siena they were the other night. She guessed it might be more like a ninety-percent average.

“Just spit it out, Jessie.” What little patience Jamie had remaining throughout this unexpectedly confronting conversation vanished. But that wasn’t Jessie’s fault, not really. So Jamie added. “Please?”

“It’s better written, there’s absolutely no doubt about that. But it’s not the same level of snark and bitchy observation as your usual stuff. It doesn’t have that same hate-for-the-world angle you usually take.”

“Oh.” Whatever Jamie had expected the answer to be, apparently, it hadn’t been that.

“It’s not bad. It’s just different.” Jessie smiled and lifted her shoulders.

As close as the two of them were, that connection had become more distant over the years as Jessie threw herself into caring about other people’s kids and Jamie focused on getting her own career on track.

“You think the difference is something my audience will seeas bad.” It wasn’t a question. What was worse was that Jamie couldn’t even entirely argue or even disagree with Jessie’s assessment. It had felt good writing something without such a negative spin on it for once. Was that why the writing had come so much easier? Why the words flowed and she had smiled as she edited it?

Or did that have more to do with the subject?

No, Jamie dismissed that idea. For now.

“I guess that depends,” Jessie said.

“Depends?” Jamie narrowed her eyes at her sister. “What do you meanit depends?”

“Well,” Jessie put her mug down on the coffee table and straightened her back, wriggling in her pretzel pose on the couch. “I guess it depends on who you actually want your audience to be going forward.”

“It’s taken me this long to get to the number of subscribers I have now. Why would I want to change that? I might finally be getting somewhere. I don’t want to live my whole life relying on other people for my income, especially when being a grunt at a paper isn’t exactly filling me with joy.”

“Does the blog fill you with joy?” Jessie asked.

“You just have to ask the hitting questions, don’t you?” Jamie teased. “And honestly, not usually.”

“But this one did?”

“Yeah.” Jamie’s smile was easy and real. She felt it in every part of her. “It really did. It felt good giving the other side of the argument.”

“It’s a good piece, Jamie. You should be proud of it.”

“But?” Jamie asked, feeling that two-minute age difference as though it were years. She sat on the couch next to Jessie. Her sister twisted around, her legs still crossed though her position righted so her thigh touched Jamie’s.

“But…” Jessie said as Jamie rested her head on her shoulder. “Ijust want to know what’s going on with my sister behind the writing.”

“I don’t really know,” Jamie answered honestly, knowing Jessie would listen no matter how little any of it made sense.

“Okay, so start anywhere, and we can figure some of it out. If you want, that is.”