Somebody Like You by Beth K. Vogt Page A

was the best thing ever.”
    “He mentioned that. Said it hung right underneath a tree fort he built.”
    “We built it.” Stephen deposited the box on the table beside her laptop.
    “He never mentioned you.”
    “I realize that.” His brown eyes dulled to the color of unpolished leather. “The summer we were nine, we scavenged all the old lumber we could and asked our dad for nails and hammers. We built the tree house in our backyard. Dad helped when he got home from work, and Mom even cooked a celebration dinner of homemade mac and cheese. We all ate dinner in the fort.”
    Haley stood silent, listening as the statement “There are two sides to every story” came true right before her eyes. When Sam talked about building the tree house, he mentioned only how he built it. Not his father. Or his twin brother. Or his mother, even—and he had a relationship with her. Haley’s heart had ached for only-child Sam playing by himself. She’d pulled him close, kissed him until he stopped talking, in an attempt to erase the pain of the past. They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
    And the story hadn’t been true. She felt like the Grimm brothers’ Gretel, discovering bread crumbs that she hoped led back home—only to find she’d been deceived and ended up lost, left wandering alone.
    Stephen’s all-too-familiar voice pulled her back to the present problem. “Sam ever show you pictures of the tree house?”
    “No.”
    “I have some . . .”
    What gave Stephen Ames the right to share memories with her that Sam hadn’t? “If Sam wanted me to see the tree house he would have shown me the pictures.”
    Unspoken words stretched between them. But then you would have learned about me.
    Time to call the man’s bluff. “Why are you here?”
    Stephen’s hand rested on the box. “I told you, I wanted to put a swing up for the baby—”
    “You didn’t even know I was pregnant before you showed up.” Haley fisted her hands on her hips. “Your being here has nothing to do with the baby.”
    “Fine. I wanted to help you and the baby—and I want to know my brother. You’re my best chance for that.”
    “Don’t you think this grand gesture—showing up here after Sam is dead—is too much, too late? If you wanted to get to know Sam, why didn’t you try sooner?”
    “I did.” His admission came through gritted teeth as he approached her until mere inches separated them, but Haley refused to back down. “I don’t have to explain my relationship with my brother to you. We were more than brothers before our parents divorced. We were best friends.”
    “Then what happened?”
    Before he looked away, something shadowed his eyes—an ache she lived with every waking moment.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Why don’t I believe you?” They stared at one another, the all-too-familiar silence looming between them. After a few seconds, Haley shrugged her shoulders and moved away.
    “Thanks for the swing. I’ll put it up later. But I just came back from a walk and I’m beat.” A yawn punctuated her declaration. “So I’m going to take a nap.”
    “My offer still stands. I can hang the swing while you rest. I’ll be outside, so you won’t hear a thing. If you show me where Sam’s tools are, I’ll get out of your way and let you get your beauty sleep.”
    She shook her head, long strands of hair whispering around her shoulders. “It’s more like my baby sleep. And Sam’s tools are still packed in one of those boxes in the garage.” She waved good-bye. “Be seeing you.”
    Or not. Please.
    Haley prayed she could dispel the image of Sam’s lookalike standing in the middle of her kitchen, watching her. Half the time she was with Stephen Ames, she battled to remember he wasn’t her husband—merely an unwanted reflection of the man she’d married.

    Stephen stood on the top step leading into the garage and surveyed the mess. How did Haley fit the Subaru in there? Somewhere in the midst of all these boxes