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Last August

Anchorage, Alaska. One of my hometowns from my childhood. One of the places where I remember life being simpler… less adulty. Less everything .

In the decade since my parents moved back here, my visits have been fleeting. Small snippets of time squeezed in between project deadlines and work demands, and only for the standard holidays and family engagements like Mom’s birthday or our parents’ wedding anniversary.

This time should be no different, except it feels like I’m on the precipice of something. I just don’t know what yet. And for once I’m not back here for any of the normal reasons.

A little while ago, our grandfather passed away at his ranch in Timber Falls, a small mountain town about eight hours east of here. Tomorrow, my three brothers and I will meet with our grandfather’s lawyer, John, to hear the reading of his last wishes.

Until then, I’ve now been left to my own devices having had an early dinner with Will, Jude, and my twin brother Sutton, before going our separate ways.

I’m restless though and at a loss what to do about it. I could try and sleep, but I don’t want to. I could always park myself on a stool in the hotel bar and drown my sorrows, but that’s just sad. I feel like I need to do something, go somewhere.

My parents’ house is out because Mom is visiting our only sister in Nebraska and Cap–our dad–is working on his crab fishing boat in the Bering Sea. Which means that unless I want to go bug my brothers, I’m on my own.

Ironically, that’s usually my preference, but not tonight.

Maybe I’m looking down the barrel of another low period for me, I am in Alaska where the weather is already starting to change.

My moods have always been up and down. Initially, we all thought it was just a “me” thing.

The long hours at college and then at my high-stress tech job in Silicon Valley probably didn’t help either–still doesn’t, if I’m being honest. Then, five years ago during a particularly down time in my life, Sutton demanded I fly across the country from Northern California to where he was in Boston.

Once I arrived and he saw me for himself, he made me seek professional help.

That was when I was diagnosed with seasonal affective disorder. Since then, I have had weekly online appointments with my therapist and take medication to help regulate the lows.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t help on nights like this when I feel like I’ve got ants in my pants and need to do something.

Decision made, I get dressed and with my phone in my hand and my keycard safely secured in my wallet, I step out of the claustrophobic hotel room and make my way downstairs to the lobby. Just as I step out of the elevator, I catch Sutton in the lobby.

“Where you escapin’ to?” he asks, his brow pinching as we move to the side to let other guests pass.

“Just needed some fresh air. Was just goin’ to walk around for a bit,” I reply.

Sutton’s frown deepens. “You’re OK though?”

The thing about being a twin is that you know each other better than anyone else in the world. This means you can’t hide anything, something that’s made worse by the fact my twin is a therapist… a doctor even.

Not only does he know when I’m struggling, but he senses it too.

Damn twin telepathy. The bonus about that is that I don’t have to put on a front for him.

I never have and never will. Sutton is my best friend and closest brother, even though we’ve lived on opposite sides of the country for years now.

Despite that, I know he’s always just a text or call away.

“Yes and no. I’m just–” I shrug. “I don’t know…restless? I want to be alone, but I don’t. And I felt the walls closin’ in on me upstairs so figured I’d walk around for a bit before comin’ back and beddin’ down.”

Sutton’s gaze roams over me before he meets my eyes, staring at me for a spell before nodding. “OK. I get that. We don’t know what’s goin’ to happen tomorrow or what Gramps has in store for us, so it makes sense that you’re a little on edge. Unless it’s somethin’ else? Work, maybe?”

I tilt my head and realize that he must be right. It’s the unknown factor of whatever tomorrow’s will reading will tell us that has me feeling like this. It must be.

“I told you, I turned my work phone off for this trip and they know I’ll be out of contact until I get back there. This is family business, and no job will ever be more important than that.”

“Good. I haven’t forgotten what you told me about feelin’ stuck and needin’ a change,” he replies. “I won’t keep you though. Can you at least let me know when you get back to your room?”

Rolling my eyes, I smirk. “Yes, Dad .”

Sutt mimics my actions. “Stop that. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, Sutt. I do. And I love you for it. But I’m a big boy. I’m an adult now, don’t you know.”

He reaches over and cups my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, Case. I’m still a few minutes older than you, so I’m allowed to be a little overprotective.”

“Minutes, Sutt. Minutes ,” I say melodramatically. With a soft shove, he drops his arm and steps back. “Don’t get eaten by a bear or anythin’.”

I snort. “I’ll try not to. More likely to get trampled by a moose anyway. See you at breakfast?”

He nods just as the elevator car arrives with a beep. “Sure will. Stay safe, Case.”

With a final wave, he disappears behind the closing doors. That’s when I turn around and make my way outside, taking the time to stop and suck in a welcome breath of cool Alaskan air.

Now all that’s left to do is find something to do and somewhere to go.

Somewhere turns out to be a small 24-hour diner three blocks over from the hotel and something is ordering a strong black coffee that’s over-brewed but surprisingly drinkable paired with a piece of the best pecan pie I’ve ever tasted. Yep, I’m a real party animal.

What I didn’t expect was a stranger sliding onto the stool next to me at the counter and ordering the same thing as me–including the side of cream and ice cream.

I find the coincidence oddly settling.

“Seems I’m not the only smart one in the room,” I say before turning my head toward her. That’s when I realize I’m screwed because the minute I lay eyes on her, I know I’ll never forget her.

Don’t ask me how I know but there’s just something about her sad, black-rimmed, deep brown eyes that I can’t tear myself away from. I may know nothing about this beautiful woman yet I instantly—strangely—feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

That seems too tame of a description though because with one look, I’m compelled to slay all her dragons and shield her from everything causing her trouble. I want to fix anything and everything and make it better. And I don’t even know the woman.

We sit there staring at each other for what seems like an eternity, her perfectly curved brows pinching together as she tucks a plump pink lip under her front teeth. Her gaze filled with a myriad of thoughts working behind her curious eyes.

I watch in startled awe as a slow-growing, lop-sided smile plays at her lips. She looks down at my half-eaten pie before lifting to my face again. “So, I made a good choice then?” she says softly, her voice full of a whole lot of somethings , all of them I want to know.

“My thorough testin’ of half a pie says yes,” I reply with a grin matching hers.

Those perfect lips of hers twitch. “And the brew?”

I wrap a hand around my seen-better-days white mug and bring it to my lips, locking eyes with the intriguing stranger as I take a measured sip. She raises a brow as I leave the cup on the counter. “Surprisingly, it’s almost as good as the pie.”

My beautiful stranger tilts her head to study me, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly before crinkling at the sides. “Good to know. Might have to get a gallon-sized cup to take away. I don’t see me sleepin’ easy tonight.”

There’s an opening if ever I heard one.

“I hope you don’t mind me askin’, and feel free to tell me to butt out, but why’s that?”

“Busy mind tonight.” She carefully cuts the tip of her pie slice off with the side of her fork before placing it in her mouth. Her lashes flutter closed as she savors the sweet and nutty dessert and hums her approval. “I think you’re right.”

It’s my turn to arch a brow, my pie all but forgotten which is a feat in itself. “Not often I hear that. Pray tell, what am I right about this time?”

She eyes me skeptically. “The pie. Wait, you don’t get told you’re right? Does that mean you’re always wrong?”

“Not usually. I make a livin’ from gettin’ things right the first time, every time.”

She turns on her stool so she’s facing me and hooks her sneakers on the footrest, now cradling her bowl with the cream, ice cream, and pie. “What do you do? Wait… can I guess?”

“OK. Have at it. I’ll give you three guesses.” I lean back against my stool, waiting with amused anticipation at what she might say next.

“You’re on!” She straightens so she can get a better look at me, and I swear I feel her gaze as it roams down to the ground and back up again. “Accountant.”

A snort escapes my lips while I shake my head. I never expected this to happen when I decided to take a walk. “Nope. Try again,” I reply, my lips twitching as she narrows her eyes.

“OK. I’ve still got two choices, yeah?”

“I’m not an accountant, but I can still count. So yep, two left. Better make them count.”

The beautiful stranger is proving herself to be the best distraction a man with an unquiet mind like me could ever need. Especially when she rolls her eyes and hums under her breath while she thinks of her next guess. “I got it! You’re a travelin’ salesman.”

“What do I sell?”

Her brows jump up. “I’m right ?”

Silence falls between us and I try to drag out the anticipation for as long as I can. When she starts twitching like she can’t stand it any longer, a chuckle escapes me. “Nope, but I’m still interested in what you think I’d be sellin’ if I was a salesman.”

“Why does it matter if I guessed wrong?”

I shrug. “Call me curious.”