Deanna was curled on the sofa in her hotel room, watching a Hallmark movie and trying not to cry, when the knock sounded on her door. She went to the peephole and felt her heart race like a hummingbird’s when she saw Teague on the opposite side of the door.

She swung it open, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Hey,” he said, sending a chill through her from her chest to her knees. “Can

we talk?”

She nodded and stood aside for him to enter. Once the door had closed behind him, she leaned against it, her arms crossed in front of her. He took a few steps into the room, then turned to face her.

“I owe you an apology,” he said. “I said some things in anger that I shouldn’t.” He looked up to the ceiling, and that was when she noticed his eyes were red, his face exhausted.

He continued. “I wish that you had called me right away when you found out that Roland was sick, but I understand that you didn’t do it to leave me out. I also understand that it wouldn’t have made a difference on the outcome. He needed a doctor, and you got him a very good one.”

She nodded, but though he was apologizing, it was obvious he wasn’t suggesting they go back to business as usual.

He paced over to the window, looking down at the parking lot and the ocean beyond. “Did you know about the cancer?” he asked softly.

“What?” She blinked, trying to process what he’d said.

“He has lung cancer, and maybe two months to live.”

“Oh my God, Teague.” She took a couple of steps toward him, then stopped, her heart racing, not sure if he would welcome her touch or rebuff it. But next she was in his arms and they were clinging to each other, tears mingling with kisses and whispered apologies.

Eventually, he led them to the sofa, holding her pressed to his side, stroking her hair as she wrapped her arms around his waist. A sadness permeated them both, and she knew that the kisses and closeness hadn’t erased the problems they faced.

“I’m going to stay,” Teague said. “I need to be with him these last few weeks. I’ve already called my partners. I’ll do the research and writing portions of my cases from here, and they’ve divided up my court appearances between them.”

Her gut clenched, but she tried not to let him feel how the idea of him being the width of the nation away from her for weeks made her stomach roil.

“I’m glad you’ll get to be with him. You both deserve that time together.”

He nodded absently, and she bit her lip to keep from crying again.

“Dee, I think we need to put this whole thing—us—on hold until this is done. I need to give all my energy to Roland. I’ve failed him for so long, I can’t make a mistake here. I owe him my undivided attention for the brief time he has left.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up toward his. “I do love you.”

“I know.”

Then he kissed her softly on the lips, and her heart bloomed with a sharp pain that was so very familiar. It was the pain of twelve years of yearning for this man, no matter who she was with or where she was. Through other boyfriends, through different jobs and cities, through having a family, losing a family, and now possibly getting a piece of her family back. No matter what, her heart hurt when she wasn’t with him. And while she’d come to expect it, understand it, she wasn’t ready to embrace it. She wanted him, not the loss of him, and she was ready to fight with everything she had in order to win.

He stood slowly, sighing as he did, and moved to the door before turning back and looking at her, his face full of self-doubt and contradictions.

“You go ahead,” she told him. “Do what you need to for Roland. But when you’re done, I’ll be waiting, because I lived without you for too long to give you up now.”

* * *

Two weeks after he went to California, the Senate rejected Teague as President Hampton’s nominee to the Supreme Court.

“I’m so sorry, Teague,” the president said.

“It’s okay, ma’am, we knew it was a long shot.”

“You didn’t deserve any of this,” she told him, steel in her voice.

“If you need to feel sorry for someone, Madam President, feel sorry for my brother. No one has suffered more in all of this than him.”

He sat in his house in DC after the phone call came. He’d come back for nearly a week of committee hearings, and when the confirmation had gone to the full Senate and an all-night filibuster had ensued, he’d known it was a lost cause. And while everything in him said he should be devastated—his mind and his heart couldn’t gather up the energy for it. The dream to be a Supreme Court justice seemed incidental right now. Everything seemed incidental in comparison to his only brother’s life.

Roland was, in fact, more upset than Teague was about losing the confirmation, but they talked—about some ideas Teague formulated on the plane ride back to California—and Roland was so proud when he heard, that he forgot about the Supreme Court and went back to beating Teague at the Scrabble game they’d been playing for five days straight.

When his mind gave up, Roland’s body seemed to as well, and he deteriorated quickly. Teague flew their mother out before Roland became completely bedridden, and the warden even allowed the three of them to spend a night in the conjugal visitation trailer. Teague’s mother cooked them dinner, and then they all played Jenga and watched movies on the DVD player. Roland was required to submit to an inspection every four hours, even through the night, so while their mother slept, Teague got up with him and walked outside where the guards patted him down, checking in his mouth and ears. They were kind enough to skip the other body cavity search since Teague was now officially his attorney and therefore vouching for him.

In the morning, before their mother left to go home, she spent thirty minutes alone with Roland while Teague paced outside the little trailer, frustrated that both his mother and his brother had to go through what they did. He wanted to fix it for them, turn back time, make a happy ending where there wasn’t one. But of course, he couldn’t.

And then one morning, Teague woke up and made the drive between his hotel and the prison just as he had almost every day for the last six weeks. And today felt the same, but somehow he knew it would be different.

Roland had been in and out of consciousness for nearly a week now. Brief moments of lucidity before plunging back into morphine-induced sleep.

When Teague arrived this morning, the guards didn’t even search him, waving him through to the infirmary. The warden and the chaplain were waiting for Teague when he arrived, and it didn’t surprise him at all. His soul knew it was time. His brother was finally leaving not only the prison they could see, but also the prison they couldn’t.

“Good morning,” the warden said as Teague approached Roland’s bed.

Teague nodded at both men.

“Roland was awake earlier and asked for the chaplain,” the warden explained.

“Okay,” Teague said, sitting down in the chair next to the bed and running a hand over Roland’s arm.

“If it’s okay with you, I can stay, we can pray together, and if he wakes, he can join us,” the chaplain said.

Teague wasn’t religious, and Roland wasn’t overtly so, but he’d developed his own relationship with his god during his time inside. Teague knew that this was a comfort to Roland, so he agreed.

At eight fifty-two in the morning, Roland’s eyes opened, and he gave Teague a sleepy smile.

“Hi there,” Teague said, holding on to Roland’s hand.

“I’m so happy you’re here, baby brother. And I want you to know,” Roland said softly, “that these last few weeks were worth everything I’ve been through for seventeen years. Every bit of it.”

Teague forced a smile to his lips. “For me too. Thank you for letting me share it with you. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not anything.”

With surprising strength, Roland pulled Teague down for a tight hug. “You do all those things we talked about, little brother. ’Cause I’ll be watching, and I can’t wait to see how proud you make me.”

“I love you, Roland,” Teague answered.

“I love you too.”

Roland’s eyes drifted shut again, and at nine eighteen, he drew his last breath. He was finally free—from the pain, from the guilt, from the world that had never given him a chance.