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My fingers curl, the woven strap of a shopping bag digging into my palm. In the bag is a last-minute gag gift for Jameson and goodies for Leo’s and Vincent’s stockings.

I swallow. Focus on Kinsey’s face. “Leo,” I rasp, my eyes jerking back to him.

As though speaking his name ignites dark magic, Leo’s eyes suddenly find me amidst the crowd. They widen. His olive skin goes ashen. Despite the chaos of sound around us, I hear the metal-on-cement scrape of his chair as he stands fast. The chair falls, clashing against iron railings. The other two men jerk, half-rising, both of them talking at once.

“Why is your brother having coffee with Leo?” growls Kinsey. “And more importantly, what the actual fuck is your ex-fiancé doing with them?”

My lips are cold. “I-I don’t know.”

Leo scrambles around tables, angling for the exit of the patio and, presumably, me. Jameson looks around wildly and finally sees me. My twin’s lips shape my name, his features collapsing into lines of misery.

“Amelia!” shouts Leo.

Eyes blazing, Kinsey snaps, “Go back to Nix and tell him we’re leaving. I’ll meet you at the car. Go, Mia!”

Grateful beyond words for the direction, I go, running on numb feet back toward the line for Santa. Nix sees me coming, his welcoming smile instantly falling. Wheezing for air, I stumble into his arms.

“Nine-one-one. We have to go,” I pant. “Kinsey will meet us at the car.”

He’s instantly alert and ready for violence. “Is she safe?” he snaps.

I nod. “Completely. She’ll be right behind us.”

“All right.” He scans my face. “Do we need to run?”

I think of Leo as I last saw him, distraught and pushing toward me.

“Yes,” I say shrilly. “Yes, please.”

So we run.

Hindsight is everything, isn’t it?

Late that night, as I lie sleepless in Kinsey’s guest bed with puffy eyes, I think about Oasis. About Leo, my brother, and Kevin. It’s like fitting together pieces of a puzzle I didn’t know existed, and the picture it creates is as mystifying as it is crippling.

“I can hold my breath for two minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

“Yes, I know.”

My eyes narrow. “Fucking Jameson. Did he tell you my favorite food, too?”

“Ceviche,” he says with a twitch of lips.

I feel my own mouth curve. “Favorite movie?”

He grimaces. “Reservoir Dogs.”

All the personal details, large and small, that Leo knew about me. How many times I’ve gone skydiving, the details of my sealed record, my most embarrassing moment, high school boyfriend, stunts and pranks spanning years… On and on.

Never once did it occur to me that there was something suspicious about the level of his knowledge. How he seemed to have it all memorized, reciting it with no hesitation or reference to notes. I always thought he was just that good. And that Jameson was a weirdo and had secretly compiled a dossier on my life.

Even from the minimal interaction I witnessed today, it’s obvious Jameson and Leo have known each other for a long time.

How? How did I miss it?

Sadly, the answer is Easily.

I was a shitty sister and friend to my brother for the bulk of our twenties. Our social lives never overlapped, and I was largely apathetic about what was going on in his life.