“See for yourself.” And while she stared at him uncomprehendingly, he lifted his arm and signaled to the LVPD squad car parked in a fire lane a little farther along the drive. The car door opened. “Billie,” he said gently, “there’s someone here I think you should meet.”

Billie froze, seemed to become rooted to the concrete sidewalk. “No.” Her voice was a terrified whisper. “No, no-I can’t…”

A little girl was getting out of the squad car, still clutching the teddy bear they’d given her at the police station while they were waiting for her parents to arrive.

Billie was silent, although he could feel her shaking. She lifted a hand and pressed her fingertips to her lips.

He watched the girl’s parents get out of the car. These were two very decent, ordinary people-not young and a little dowdy, maybe-the kind of people you’d expect to find at PTA meetings and on the sidelines at soccer games. The mom first-and she was the kind of mom you’d feel good about coming home to if you were a kid, Holt thought, because you’d know there was going to be something good to eat waiting for you in the kitchen, and a hug to go with it. Then the dad-the kind of dad you knew would be there to catch your bicycle when it wobbled, and who would tell you no when you asked if you could do something you knew in your heart was stupid and dangerous. The kind of people his own parents could have been. Would have been.

“They must hate me so much,” Billie whispered.

He looked down at her and smiled. “I don’t think these people are capable of hating.”

But she went on standing there, looking at the couple standing with their hands on their daughter’s shoulders, both protecting and encouraging. She seemed incapable of taking a step. She looked up at Holt, and the longing in her eyes squeezed his heart.

He gave her a nudge and, in a gruff-sounding voice he didn’t entirely trust, said, “Go on-go meet your daughter.”

Still she hesitated. “She…she knows who I am?”

He nodded. “Her mom said she’s been asking about her birth mother. She wants to meet you.”

“And…it’s okay with them? Her mom and dad?” She sounded both disbelieving and hopeful.

“Yes,” he said softly, “it’s okay.”

He took her hand, then, as if she were a child afraid of the dark. Guided her a few steps closer to the three people waiting beside the police car, then experimentally let go of her hand. She looked up at him and he smiled and nodded, then watched her walk on alone to meet her daughter. His face felt stiff, his throat tight and achy, and he folded his arms and straightened, making himself taller, sturdier, as if that would make him feel less alone.

Then he wasn’t alone, as Wade came from one side to clap a firm hand on his shoulder, Tierney from the other to slip her arm around his waist.

“Look at her-not a tear,” Wade said. He nodded toward his wife, who was openly weeping. “Tee’s a basket case.”

“Billie doesn’t cry,” Holt said. His arm was around Tierney’s shoulders, and he gave her a squeeze. “Hey, I thought you could block.”

She sniffled happily. “Who wants to block emotions like these? They’re the good stuff. They feed my soul.”

Holt didn’t answer her; he never got the chance. Because just then two things happened, almost simultaneously.

A taxicab came barreling up the drive and zipped into the space just ahead of the police car and right next to Billie and the Bachman family.

And Tierney stiffened, clapped a hand over her mouth and whispered, “Oh, God.”

Instantly concerned for his wife, Wade said, “You okay, babe? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” she replied, laughing as new tears slid down her already wet cheeks. “Wait-just wait.”

The taxi’s back door flew open and a woman climbed out-a tall, blond, beautiful woman-followed closely by Tony Whitehall. Billie looked up and turned to face the newcomers, her face frozen in a puzzled frown. And Holt felt as if he was watching a tableau, all its players poised in the moment just before the scene’s dramatic climax.

Then…there was sound, and motion.

Brooke Fallon Grant marched up to her twin sister and said furiously, “Well, dammit, Brenna, you wouldn’t come home, so I’ve come to get you!”

And Holt watched in shock as Billie-or Brenna-burst into tears.

The tidal wave of emotion that swept over him then was more than he knew what to do with-and definitely more than he wanted anyone to witness. He spun around, hands lifted, chest heaving, searching blindly for a private place, a hole to crawl into, a shelter where he could be alone and find a way to deal with the upheaval within him. But instead of aloneness, once again he found himself surrounded, arms wrapped around him, a strong hand gripping his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Tierney whispered, hugging him tightly. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? That’s family.”

And Wade said brusquely, “Well, Holt, my friend, looks like your job here is done.” He paused while Holt coughed, cleared his throat, looked up at the lights and tried to laugh. “Have you told Cory and Sam yet?”

“Ah,” Holt said, and cleared his throat some more. “Got a call in to them. Expect they’ll be here soon.” He hauled in a chestful of air and wondered why the achievement of something he’d been working toward for so many months didn’t make him feel happier.

Tony came wandering up just then, his pit-bull face looking like it didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He shook Wade’s hand with the two-handed grip that passed for hugging between guys, nodded toward Holt, sniffed and said, “Boy…this is something else, huh?” Then the three men stood silently and a little apart, arms folded on their chests, watching the two sisters. The two women had their arms around each other, heads close together, laughing, nodding, wiping eyes, laughing again…crying.

Tierney moved to stand close to Holt’s side, and he thought it was strange that he didn’t feel any need to widen the distance between them. There was something about her that he found comforting. Maybe, he thought, because he knew he couldn’t hide his feelings from her anyway, so why worry about it.

“Does she know how you feel about her?” she asked quietly after a while.

He gave a soft huff of laughter. “No, I’m sure she doesn’t. And I intend to keep it that way.”

“Why?” She waited for him to answer, and when he didn’t, she said, “If it makes a difference, she loves you, too.” He still didn’t reply, and he heard a sharp little intake of breath. “But it isn’t that, is it? I think…for you that almost makes it…harder.”

When she paused, his mind flashed back to the night before, in Billie’s bathtub, with her all slippery and weightless on his chest, the weight all inside, where his heart should be.

Life’s just one big poker game…

You don’t get any say in what cards you’re dealt, it’s all about how you play your hand.

You have to know when to walk away, when to run.

“It’s too big a gamble for you, isn’t it? Loving someone…”

He threw her a look he knew she didn’t deserve-hard and mean and born out of the darkness he could feel starting to close in around him. “If you mean, am I willing to risk losing somebody I love, the way I lost my parents-yeah, it’s too big a gamble.” I can’t do it.

It just hurts too much.

“Oh, Holt, this is Vegas,” Tierney said, and her voice was tender-not only the voice he heard with his ears, but the one he felt, deep inside his mind. “Don’t you know…the greater the risk, the greater the reward? And sometimes the reward far outweighs the risk.”

He could only shake his head, unable to speak.

Just then Billie looked up. Still flanked by and holding on tightly to her sister, she lifted her head and looked straight at him, and her tear-streaked face broke into a radiant smile. It was simply the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life, more beautiful than any sunrise. Could even the Grand Canyon be more amazing?

If I could just wake up to that smile every day, he thought, it might be worth the risk…

What the hell. He held out his hand and she let go of her sister and came to him in a blind rush. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face into her hair…took a deep breath, closed his eyes…and went all-in.

Epilogue

“Pearse, could there be a more perfect day for a wedding?”

This was, of course, a rhetorical question, which Sam’s husband knew better than to answer. He smiled at her, and she settled back in her folding chair as she added with a sigh, “Or a more perfect spot for one. This was a brilliant idea, havin’ it in the Portland Rose Garden. I’ve got to hand it to Wade and Tee for comin’ up with it.”

“It was a good choice,” Cory agreed. “A good compromise.”

Sam snorted. “What compromise? The brides’ hometown down in Texas has bad memories for both Brooke and Billie-I’m never gonna be able to call her Brenna, Pearse, I’m sorry-and Las Vegas just seems a little bit tacky, if you know what I mean. So where were they gonna go? I think this is perfect. Not only is it the most gorgeous place I’ve ever seen, but it’s where it all started, sort of.” She knew she was chattering, but couldn’t seem to help it. Her emotions were all over the place these days. “Well, not where it started, I suppose that would’ve been back home at Mama’s house in Georgia, but it’s where you first laid eyes on Wade. He was the first brother you found, and you first met him right here in this rose garden. And now…here we all are. Together.”

She reached over and took her husband’s hand and squeezed it, then sniffed. “Tell me the truth, Pearse-did you really think this day would come?”