Her twin brother appeared beside her, arms crossed, eyeing the house with equal parts suspicion and fascination. Behind them, their parents were already arguing with the moving crew about where to place the piano.

From the front seat of the Sinclair family car, a familiar head of messy dark hair popped out, glasses askew.

Mike scrambled out, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to catch up. He caught her hand, lacing his fingers through hers with a practiced ease that spoke of months of practice.