The game starts in thirty minutes, so we sit with Sabrina on the metal bleachers, and she interviews us about starting and selling our first company, and what we learned. Sometimes, we finish each other’s sentences.

“What do you think makes Flynn a visionary?” she asks Dylan.

He tries to suppress a smile. “He has twenty—”

I jump in, shaking my head. “—eight thousand vision.”

“Just like—”

I point at Dylan. “—him.”

Sabrina’s lips twitch like she’s trying to rein in a grin.

When we’re done, Dylan says he needs to stretch before the game, so he heads to the field. She watches him then swings her gaze to me. “It’s funny to meet him after knowing you.”

I arch an eyebrow, curious. “How so?”

“This might sound weird, but you don’t seem like a twin when it’s just us chatting. But with him, you absolutely are.”

“Did you expect me to seem like a twin?”

“I think I did. Because it’s so much a part of your identity, or at least what’s been written about you. You’re always identified online as the Parker twins because of your first company, but when I’m with you, I don’t think of you that way.”

“How do you think of me?”

She nibbles on the corner of her lip, considering the question, it seems. “When it’s just you and me, I can see who you are shining through. You’re this fascinating, brilliant, thoughtful, creative man, and it’s hard for me to see how you ever shared credit with anyone.”

“Keep thinking of me that way. I did everything on my own. It was all me.” I wink.

“It’s more that you’re so uniquely you, from the pineapple to the poetry to the wordplay to your jokes. That’s you. Flynn Parker. Not Flynn the twin.” She holds her palms like scales, raising then lowering. “Then when I see you with your brother, you have this whole other twin-ness to you. It’s not a bad thing; it’s just different.”

“Would you be different if I met your brother?”

“We’re not twins. I’m five years older. He’s twenty-three.”

“Right, but you’re close, aren’t you?”

“Very much so. He’s amazing. He’s one of the reasons I wanted this opportunity so badly.”

“In what way?”

“I support my brother. I help pay his bills for school.”

“You do?”

She nods, a smile spreading instantly. “He’s going to divinity school, getting a master’s.”

I take a moment to absorb the enormity of what she does for him. It’s hard enough to pay bills on her own, but to help the person she adores? “That’s amazing. I’m floored. What an incredible thing to do.”

“I kind of raised him,” she says, a note of pride in her voice.

“You did?”

“We never knew our dad. He didn’t ever live with us. I suspect he knocked up our mom twice, and that was the extent of his role in her life. As for her, she started to check out when my brother was ten or eleven. I looked out for him after that.”