Drew nodded. He was too tired for this today. He'd been stupid to come here. "Is there somewhere I can rest before I'm dragged back to hell?"
"Sure." They were back to talking in clipped sentences. "Hold on. It's a bit bumpy."
Nathan pushed the chair up a ramp to a sidewalk. The going was easier after that. People moved out of the way. The look on Nathan's face discouraging anyone from stopping them before the made it to the family area. The little girl, Emma, came bouncing out to meet them. She was dressed in a red, white, and blue sundress and covered in chocolate ice cream. She started to lunge for him but Natalie caught her. "Rein it in, tiger," Nat told the little girl.
Nat didn't seem to mind that the girl was getting ice cream on her pretty white halter top. "You look good, Nat. Positively glowing." He reached for her, and she leaned down to hug him.
"I thought you'd died. Jesus, Drew. Don't do that again." She squeezed him tight. Holding on longer than Drew expected.
"Let him breathe, Nat," Nathan rumbled overhead. "Let's get him in the shade and comfortable."
The family area was under a tent far enough away from the stage not to block anyone's view of the resident superstar. No expense had been spared for the picnic that Drew could tell. Tents dotted the entire park area. Food tents were scattered all around. Far off in the distance, there were carnival rides and games. But Quinn Anders was the main event and everyone knew it. "This is all very kind. To throw me a party. Like a conquering hero."
He was joking. Lonnie Ortiz and Mr. and Mrs. Truman laughed. Like they really thought it was funny. "Perfect day for it. Don't you think? It's freakin' hot, but it's a gorgeous day," Natalie said, laughing with them. "Quinn is getting ready to sing. Oh, my God, Drew, why didn't you ever tell us that your mother was Senator Walker? I can see where you get your stunning good looks. But it would have been nice to know. We could talk about her stance on gay rights."
"I believe her stance is in flux as we speak," Drew explained as they tried to make him comfortable in the shade of the tent. "Having a gay son and all."
"Shouldn't take you coming out to change her mind," Lonnie said. He looked good. He looked like a man who hadn't had a near death experience recently. He looked … like he was dealing.
"Yeah, well, it is what it is." Drew struggled to get comfortable in the chair. He was afraid if he got out, he'd never be able to get back in so he stayed.
Nathan crouched at his side. "What can I do to make you comfortable?"
"Stop fussing, sit down, a beer would be nice, probably not with the meds, but I can wish. A soda. No barbecue. After that, sit the fuck down and let me look at you." He didn't care who might be watching, he reached out and grabbed Nathan's hand. He needed the contact. Nathan looked mildly surprised, but he smiled and stayed like that, crouched on the ground, his hand linked with Drew's as if he couldn't let go either. "It's been a shitty few weeks."
"Absolutely shitty," Nathan agreed. He still didn't let go of Drew's hand. "You survived. That's all that matters."
"I'm not … " He didn't know what he wanted to say. "I'm not coming back." He didn't want to know that he wouldn't be welcome. "I have … I'm going to be in Nashville while I heal. I have to learn to walk again. I might not walk again. Not well, at any rate. I'm busted. There's a doctor back home … I might have a better chance of … Jesus, I just wanted to make sure you … and Quinn. How's Quinn?"
Nathan leaned closer, he was close enough to kiss. He didn't kiss him. "We missed you, you fucker. You scared the shit out of us. And … when you're ready to come back … we want you to come back."
Drew felt the burning sting behind his eyes. He'd spent the last week or so in some state of emotional upheaval. He wiped his eyes. "Okay. Yeah. I want to come back. I do."
Jimi Hendrix's version of The Star-Spangled Banner screamed out of an electric guitar, quieting the crowd. Drew focused on the stage. Quinn had the guitar raised up, a look of silent rage on his face as he made the strings his bitch. When he was finished demanding their attention, he stepped up to the microphone. "Welcome home, Agent Andrew Walker. You might not be a hometown hero, but you saved my sorry life twice now. This one is for you, buddy."
Quinn stepped away from the microphone and closed his eyes. Metallica bled from his fingers. Nothing Else Matters, the words were personal and ripped from his soul. Or maybe Drew only imagined Quinn was singing words of love for a man in front of an entire crowd. Maybe they didn't understand. Maybe they thought he was saying that it mattered that Drew had saved his life. Or maybe he knew the crowd loved Metallica. And he was playing for the crowd.