Part 1

Howie Dorough had always been a deep sleeper, so it was no surprise that he didn’t hear the call.

His wife Leigh did, waking from her light slumber to the sound of her husband’s ringtone. She rolled over to look at the clock by their bed, and when she saw what time it was, her heart leaped into her throat. No one ever called with good news at one in the morning.

Her first thought was of her eighty-three-year-old mother-in-law. “Howie,” she whispered, shaking his shoulder. If something had happened to his mother, he would want to know right away.

“Hm?” Howie murmured, without opening his eyes.

“Your phone! Wake up and answer it.”

He startled awake, as he realized what she was saying. He could hear the phone ringing now. Rolling over, he reached for it, his fingers fumbling blindly over the bedside table for a few seconds before they finally closed around it. Who would be calling him in the middle of the night? he wondered, feeling the first twinge of worry. The more concerning question was, why were they calling?

He brought the phone close to his face, squinting blearily at the name showing on its screen. “It’s Lauren,” he said, feeling confused as he clumsily swiped to answer the call.

“Lauren Kitt? I mean, Carter?” asked Leigh, sounding equally confused.

Howie had already raised the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Howie! Thank god someone’s answering their phone.” He had never heard his friend’s wife sound so hysterical. Lauren Kitt Carter was usually cool, calm, and collected - a nice contrast to the chaotic energy that seemed to surround her husband, Nick.

“Lauren? What’s going on?” Howie asked, clutching the phone closer to his ear. He was wide awake now, his heart hammering rapidly against his ribcage. “Is it Nick?”

She responded to his questions with one of her own. “Are you still in Atlanta? Are any of you guys there?”

“No, we all left yesterday morning,” Howie said slowly, still trying to fight off the fog of sleep. “Except for… shit.” He knew for sure now who this had to be about. “What happened to Nick?”

“I just got a call from a hospital in Atlanta. He and Mike were assaulted outside a bar tonight.” Howie could tell Lauren had been crying. Her voice was shaking so badly, he was barely able to understand what she was saying. “I have no idea how Mike is, but the woman on the phone said Nick’s been hurt pretty bad and that I should try to get there as soon as possible. I’m looking at flights now, but there’s nothing available until morning. Even if I take the first one out, I won’t make it until tomorrow afternoon.”

Howie’s brain raced to put together the pieces of information. Even though the rest of the group had gone home after their show in Atlanta on Friday, he knew Nick had planned to be there all weekend to promote his movie, Dead 7, at a horror convention. Lauren had stayed in Las Vegas with their son Odin, who was only one-and-a-half, while Nick’s bodyguard Mike accompanied him. Now she was stuck clear across the country from Nick, who needed her.

“What happened?” Howie heard Leigh whisper. She had turned on a lamp and was sitting up in bed beside him, looking at him. Her dark eyes glinted in the dim light, wide with concern.

He shook his head, holding up his hand. Not now. “What can I do?” he asked Lauren.

She sniffled. “I’m just hoping someone else can get there before I can, to be there with him… just in case…” She trailed off.

Howie’s heart skipped a beat. “How bad are we talking here, Lauren? When you say they were ‘assaulted,’ what do-?”

“I don’t know any of the details,” Lauren interrupted. “The woman wouldn’t tell me much over the phone. She just said it’s serious. I tried texting them both, but neither of them are answering, which is scaring the shit out of me. You know how attached Nick is to his phone.”

Howie knew. “He’s probably just tied up with whatever they’re doing to treat him and can’t use it right now,” he replied, trying to be reasonable and reassure her at the same time. “Have you called Brian?” Their bandmate lived in Alpharetta, not far from Atlanta. Brian could be at the hospital in under an hour.

“Yeah, a few times, but he didn’t answer either.”

Hearing the desperation in her voice, Howie knew what he had to do. “I’ll head up there,” he said, getting out of bed. “It’s gonna take me a few hours, but I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay?”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Don’t you know me any better than that by now? Besides Leigh, Nick’s my best friend,” said Howie, swallowing hard. “Of course I will.”

“Thank you so much, Howie,” Lauren replied with relief. “That means the world to me.”

“No problem.” Howie was already heading to his walk-in closet to pack an overnight bag. “What hospital is it?” he asked, pulling a couple of t-shirts off their hangers.

“Grady Memorial. Will you call me when you get there?”

“Of course.” He added an extra pair of pants to the small pile of clothes accumulating on the closet bench. “I’ll try to call Brian again too. Hopefully he can beat us both there.”

“Thank you, Howie,” she said again. “You’re the best.”

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Howie promised. “Hang in there. He’ll be okay. You know Nick; he just likes to cause trouble.”

Lauren laughed shakily. “God, I hope so.”

“What’s going on?” Howie heard Leigh ask, as soon as he hung up. He looked over his shoulder to see her standing in the doorway of the closet. “Nick’s in the hospital?”

He nodded, repeating what Lauren had told him as he stuffed his clothes into a duffel bag. “...and Brian’s not answering his phone, so I’ve gotta go up there.”

“To Atlanta? Again?” Leigh raised her eyebrows. “Howie, it’s one in the morning. How are you going to get a flight to Atlanta at this time of night?”

“I’m not. I’m gonna have to drive,” said Howie, pulling a few pairs of underwear out of a drawer to put in his bag.

“But that’s, like, a six or seven-hour drive from here!”

He nodded again, adding some socks on top. “If I leave now, I can make it there by eight a.m.”

She blinked. “You’re gonna drive all night?”

Howie smashed the pile of clothing down to make it fit, then zipped the bag shut. “I have to,” he said simply, hoisting it onto his shoulder. “Nicky needs me.”

***

Brian Littrell was a light sleeper, so it was surprising that he didn’t hear the call.

Then again, he’d left his phone in the kitchen while helping his wife Leighanne clean up from the Halloween party they’d thrown that evening at their mansion in Alpharetta, and afterwards, they’d gone to bed and crashed, both exhausted and intoxicated. Their bedroom was miles from the kitchen, so neither of them had heard a thing. Brian slept without interruption and didn’t wake until morning.

When he got up, he went downstairs to make coffee, leaving Leighanne still asleep in bed. If his own hangover was any indication, she was going to have a headache when she woke up. He started the coffee maker and took two mugs out of the cupboard. While he waited for the coffee to brew, he picked his phone up off the counter. It was only then that he saw the missed calls and messages.

Please call me back as soon as you see this, no matter what time. It’s important, read one of the texts from Nick’s wife, Lauren.

Howie’s were shorter, but eerily similar: Call me ASAP.

When Brian realized the two of them had been trying to get a hold of him all night, he felt sick to his stomach. Something was clearly wrong, and though neither of them had said what it was, he knew it had to have something to do with Nick. What now? he wondered, the nausea intensifying as he called Howie’s number.

Howie answered on the third ring. “Brian, where have you been?” His voice had a tinny, far-away quality that told Brian he was talking through the speakerphone.

“Sorry,” said Brian. “I left my phone downstairs last night and didn’t see your messages until I got up this morning. What’s goin’ on, man?” He cringed as his voice cracked; he had no control over when it would go out on him, and he hated the way it sounded when it did. Still, he croaked out a second question: “Is it Nick?”

“Yeah.” Howie sighed. “He’s in the hospital, in Atlanta. I guess he got attacked at a bar there last night after that convention he was doing.”

Brian rolled his eyes. Leave it to Nick to get into a bar fight. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. Lauren didn’t know many details when she called me last night, but it sounds like it’s serious. I’m on my way up there now.”

Brian frowned, his brain feeling foggy. “You’re coming back to Atlanta?” he asked, scratching the top of his head.

“Yeah,” replied Howie. “I should be there in about an hour; I just passed the exit for Forsyth.”

Brian blinked. “You’re driving?”

“I’ve been driving since one-thirty this morning.” There was a tone of annoyance on top of the exhaustion he heard in Howie’s voice. “It’s not like I could find a flight in the middle of the night on such short notice, and Lauren was freaking out ‘cause she’s so far away, and you weren’t answering your phone. So yeah… I’m driving.”

“I’m sorry,” Brian said again, feeling guilty for the missed phone messages. “I wish I’d known. I would’ve gone there…”

Would you have, really? a part of his brain wondered, remembering how good it had felt to curl up in bed next to Leighanne after last night’s party and thinking how hard it would have been to get up in the middle of the night and go to Atlanta.

“You can still go,” said Howie, before Brian could really consider the answer to his internal question. “Nicky’s gonna need our support, and so will Lauren when she gets there. Meet me at Grady Memorial in an hour?”

“Yeah, sure,” Brian agreed. “I’ll be there, man.”

When he hung up the phone, his head felt clearer. The call to action had gotten his adrenaline pumping, erasing the effects of his hangover. He put one of the ceramic mugs back into the cupboard and took down a tall travel mug instead, filling it with freshly-brewed coffee. He poured the rest of the pot into the second mug and carried it carefully upstairs to his bedroom, where Leighanne was just starting to stir.

“Morning, baby,” he said, setting the mug down beside her on the bedside table. “I brought you some coffee.”

“Mm…” Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply. “Bless your heart,” she murmured.

He hoped the gesture would make up for what he was about to tell her. Perching on the edge of the bed, he patted her leg through the covers. “Baby, I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go. Something happened to Nick last night in Atlanta, and he’s in the hospital. I have to go make sure he’s okay.”

“What?” Leighanne asked, blinking at him in bleary-eyed confusion as she struggled to sit up. “You’re going to Atlanta? Now? But… what about church?”

Brian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So many times before, he’d been forced to choose between his wife and Nick, his family and Nick, his faith and Nick. Nick never won. But this time, he had to put his friend first.

“You and Baylee will have to go without me this week,” he replied, as he stood up and headed to the closet to get dressed. “Nick needs me.”

***

Part 2

Howie had a lot of time to think on the long drive up from Florida. He thought about everything from his childhood to his own two children, how slow drivers were more dangerous than fast ones, and why fountain soda tasted so much better than soda from a can… but mostly, he thought about Nick.

Nick Carter had been like the little brother he’d never had for over half of Howie’s life - and two-thirds of Nick’s. In the early days of the group, the six-and-a-half year age gap between them had seemed much more significant than it did now. Nick was still a prepubescent child when he’d joined the Backstreet Boys, whereas Howie was a grown man. What college student would want to hang out with a sixth-grader?

In those early days, Nick had annoyed Howie to no end, pranking and teasing him incessantly. You’d think Nick, as the youngest, would have been the one to get picked on the most, but he was usually the instigator instead. He may have been the baby of their group, but being the oldest of five in his dysfunctional family had probably prepared him to be an offensive player of practical jokes, rather than a defensive one. Or maybe it was because of Brian.

When Brian joined the group, he and Nick quickly became inseparable. They’d been like two peas in a pod, practically joined at the hip. Frick and Frack. Where Brian went, Nick followed, and in return, Brian always had Nick’s back. The two of them together were even worse than Nick was alone, and the fact that they were a united force made it nearly impossible to retaliate against either one of them for the stupid pranks they pulled. Once, Brian had talked Nick into taking a shit into a sock, which they’d then hidden inside a drum before one of their shows, stinking up the entire stage. Who else but those two would have even thought of something so disgusting, let alone actually done it? Howie knew he couldn’t compete, so he didn’t try.

But something had changed between Nick and Brian. Over the years, they’d grown apart. Brian settled down, got married, and became a family man, while Nick went wild, distancing himself from his own family and surrounding himself with an entourage of people who only seemed to care about partying. Nick went through a series of bad relationships, but for Brian, there was only one: his wife, Leighanne. She may have been the one to come between them in the first place, but Howie knew it was a lot more complicated than Nick being jealous of her relationship with Brian, especially now that he had finally found his own true love.

It was after Nick started dating Lauren that he and Howie had gotten closer. Nick had turned his life around and finally started acting like an adult instead of a rebellious teenager. Howie had embraced this new, more mature version of Nick, and in the last few years, the two of them had gotten to be genuinely good friends, both within and outside of the group. The fact that Nick had asked Howie - not Brian or any of the other Boys, just Howie - to be a groomsman in his wedding said it all.

But as Howie followed the signs to Atlanta, he felt a surge of guilt. Nick had also asked him to stay and attend the convention with him that weekend - and Howie had said no. It was just a few days before Halloween, and he wanted to be home with his family, helping Leigh decorate the house and put the finishing touches on the kids’ costumes. Only now did it occur to him that, depending on what kind of condition he found Nick in, he might miss taking his boys trick-or-treating anyway. But what really bothered him was the thought that, had he taken Nick up on his offer, he might have been able to prevent whatever had happened to him - either that, or he would have gotten hurt himself.

With a shudder, Howie put his foot on the gas pedal and pushed down hard, accelerating as he passed yet another slowpoke in his lane. He continued to drive well above the speed limit until he hit the rush hour traffic trying to get into Atlanta, and then his car slowed to a crawl. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, checking his phone every few minutes to see if there was a message from Lauren or Brian, even though no more calls had come through.

By the time he made it to the hospital, there was a text from Brian, who had beaten him there. I’m in a waiting room on the sixth floor, the text read. Text me when you get here, and I’ll meet you at the elevator.

Howie wished he would have said something about Nick, but maybe he didn’t know anything. I’m here, he messaged back before leaving his car in the parking deck. On my way in now.

True to his word, Brian was waiting outside the elevator when Howie stepped off it onto the sixth floor. He gave Howie a grim smile and a wordless hug.

“How is he?” Howie asked as he let go of Brian, almost afraid to hear his answer.

“I don’t know. He’s in surgery. That’s all the receptionist could tell me. She said to wait up here, and someone would come to talk to us once he’s out.”

Howie felt his heartbeat quicken. “Surgery? For what?”

Brian shook his head. “She wouldn’t say. Trust me, bro, I tried to press her for more information, but she said that’s all it showed when she looked him up on her computer.”

Howie frowned. “It must be really serious if he had to have surgery,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” said Brian, slinging his arm around Howie’s shoulders as they walked down the hall, “but we already knew it was serious, right? You said Lauren made it sound serious.”

Howie nodded. “Yeah.” He wondered if he should call her now or wait until he had more information. “Did you hear anything about Mike?” he asked, before making a decision.

“Mike?” Brian asked blankly. “Mike was with him?”

“Yeah… did I not mention that on the phone? Lauren said Mike was attacked, too.”

“Jesus, Howie! No, you didn’t mention that,” Brian snapped. “I didn’t even think to ask about Mike. My God… it must have been bad if Mike got hurt trying to protect him. And here I thought it was just some stupid bar brawl…”

Howie saw the look of guilt on Brian’s face and forgave him for his little outburst. They were both just worried about Nick, he knew - and now Mike, too. “Yeah… so who do we ask about Mike?”

Brian turned around, pointing to a reception area near the elevator. Howie had been so focused on Brian, he’d hardly noticed it. They walked back and gave the woman at the desk Mike’s name, which she typed into her computer. “Mr. Elgani had surgery early this morning,” she said after a few seconds, her eyes scanning the information on the screen in front of her. “He was just moved from recovery into a private room on the fifth floor, room 514.”

Howie’s heart pounded as fast as his footsteps as he and Brian took a flight of stairs down one floor. The situation seemed more and more serious with each passing each second. What on earth could have happened to make Nick and Mike both need surgery? he wondered, his mind racing along with his heart. Did they get shot? Stabbed?

They followed the numbered doors on the fifth floor to room 514, where they found Nick’s bodyguard, Mike Elgani, laid up in bed, his left leg elevated and immobilized by a thick layer of bandages. “Hey, fellas,” he said when he recognized them, his voice low and groggy. “Howie, what’chu doin’ all the way up here?”

“Just making sure you’re okay, man,” Howie replied, forcing a smile. Aside from his injured leg, Mike looked a hell of lot better than he’d been expecting - tired, but otherwise alright.

Mike shook his head. “Don’t you worry ‘bout me. It’s Nick that needs all y’all’s prayers now.”

Howie and Brian caught each other’s eye, exchanging grim glances before returning their attention to the man lying before them. “What happened, Mike?” Brian asked quietly, as Howie pulled a pair of chairs up alongside his bed so they could sit down. The sight of this seemingly indestructible member of their security team looking utterly defenseless in a hospital bed, with IV lines in his arm and white compression hose on his legs, had made Howie slightly queasy - though that also could have been because he’d had nothing but coffee since the night before. He sank into his chair, feeling nervous and shaky, as Mike started to tell his story.

“I failed him,” he began, closing his eyes. “First time in twelve years I’ve failed to protect a client.” When he opened his eyes again, they were full of tears. “I’m so sorry, y’all. It just happened so fast, and before I knew it, I was on the ground. There was nothing I could do to stop what happened next.”

“Wait,” said Brian, holding up his hand. “Back up and start from the beginning.”

Howie added gently, “No one’s told us much of anything about what happened last night, just that you and Nick were attacked outside of a bar. Do you remember how it started?”

Mike nodded, reaching up to wipe away his tears. “Me and Nick went for a drink after the convention at this place just a few blocks from our hotel. There were lots of people from the convention there, still in their cosplay. It got pretty crowded, and Nick started attracting a lot of attention, as he tends to do.” He paused to grin, as Howie and Brian both nodded knowingly. “Dude could barely finish his drink with all the people coming up to him, wanting selfies. He was in a good mood, so he played nice and let ‘em take pictures, even signed some autographs.”

Here Mike paused to take a deep breath before he continued, as if steeling himself for what was to come.

“So then this one dude shows up, dressed like the bad guy from The Walking Dead - Negan? - and he starts razzing on Nick, talking shit about his movie, telling him he didn’t belong at the con and to go back to his faggy boy band, bullshit like that. I tried to get him to back off, but he wouldn’t. For his part, Nick pretty much ignored him - didn’t talk back or nothin’ like that. But this drunk mothafucka keeps runnin’ his mouth, until the bartender tells us to take it outside. By that time, I can tell Nick’s had enough and is ready to leave anyway, so we get up and go. As we walk out, the Negan dude follows us, still spewing bullshit. I turn to tell him one more time to back off before Nick and I get the hell out of there, and I see him swing his stupid bat.”

Mike paused again, closing his eyes briefly. “I guess I forgot to mention, he’d been carrying this bat in his shoulder the whole time to look like the character he was dressed up as. His weapon’s a wooden bat wrapped in barbed wire. I just assumed it was a prop, made of plastic or something… ‘till he busted my kneecap with it.”

Brian and Howie both gasped out loud, their mouths dropping open in horror. Howie felt sick to his stomach now.

Mike opened his eyes again, allowing a few more tears to escape. “I woulda done anything I could to defend Nick, but I was down for the count. While I was trying to get back to my feet, he was already beating on Nick with that damn bat. Of course he fled the scene as soon as someone called the cops, but it didn’t take much to do some serious damage.”

Howie couldn’t bare to look at Brian this time. “H-how much damage?” he asked in a whisper.

The security guard shook his head. “I dunno, man. It didn’t look good. I’ve been askin’ about him, but all anyone’ll tell me is that he had to have emergency surgery.”

Brian nodded. “He’s still in surgery,” he said, his voice breaking. Howie wondered how long Nick had been there. From what everyone had said, it sounded bad… maybe even worse than he’d feared. What was he going to tell Lauren?

“I’m sorry, guys,” said Mike, still shaking his head with regret. “I swear, I tried to protect him…”

“We know you did,” Howie replied quickly, both of them assuring him that they didn’t blame him, that they knew he’d always done his best to keep Nick safe. Mike had worked with them for nearly ten years, and in that time, he’d become more than a bodyguard. He was a friend, a member of the Backstreet family. One of their own. Howie knew it wasn’t Mike’s fault.

But when he and Brian walked back upstairs, leaving Mike to talk to the cops who had shown up to take his statement, the bodyguard’s guilt became Howie’s, as the thought that had haunted him earlier returned: If only I had been there.

***

Brian had a lot of time to think as he sat in the surgical waiting room with Howie. Neither of them spoke much, but that was not unusual. Within the brotherhood of the Backstreet Boys, the two of them had never been all that tight - which, now that Brian thought about it, didn’t make much sense.

After all, he and Howie had a lot in common - probably more than he had in common with any of the others, except maybe his cousin Kevin. They were both family men, both married with sons. Heck, their wives even had the same name. They were both religious; the fact that Brian was Baptist and Howie Catholic didn’t matter. They were both the “babies” of their biological families, but big brothers in the Backstreet Boys. They were both tenors, and while they’d both grown up singing, they were the only two in the group who had planned for future careers outside of the music business. Howie had gone to community college and gotten his associate’s degree, while Brian had earned a scholarship to Bible college. But fate had stepped in and brought the two of them together to make music instead.

They hadn’t hit it off right away, not like Brian had with Nick and AJ. And maybe that was why: in some ways, they were too similar. Before Brian joined the Backstreet Boys, Howie had been the lead singer of the group. But once Brian entered the mix, that began to change. Solos that would have once been Howie’s started going to Brian instead - and Howie had resented him for it.

Of course, none of that had come out for years. At the time, Howie had been a team player. He’d let Brian have the spotlight and taken his place in the background without complaint. But behind the scenes, “Sweet D” had been bitter. Brian understood that better now that he ever could have then because, in a way, the tables had been turned. Now he was the one singing harmony, while Howie got solos that should have been Brian’s.

To Howie’s credit, he’d been nothing but supportive as Brian tried to get his voice back. But as Brian had struggled with the muscle tension dysphonia that made it difficult to even speak sometimes, let alone sing, there had to have been a small part of Howie that was secretly grateful for the opportunity it had given him to sing more leads. Brian didn’t blame him for that, but he understood the bitterness because he was still bitter about the whole situation himself.

He glanced over at Howie, who was bent over his phone, his thumbs flying over the keyboard as he typed out a message. He had been like that for awhile.

“Who ya textin’?” Brian asked curiously, wondering if he was talking to one of the other guys. He wasn’t sure if it was worth it to wake up Kevin and AJ now or wait until they knew more about Nick’s condition. It was still quite early on the West Coast, where they both lived.

“Lauren,” Howie replied. “She’s on a plane, headed here. Thank God for in-flight wifi, right?”

“Amen,” agreed Brian. “Thanks for filling her in, man.”

Howie shrugged. “I just wish there was more to tell. I didn’t wanna give her all the gory details…”

Brian swallowed hard, his throat feeling tight as he tried not to think about Nick being beaten by a man with a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. But despite his best efforts, the mental image came, and it was every bit as horrific as the picture Mike had painted with his words when he’d told them what had happened.

“We should say a prayer,” Brian blurted, desperate to focus on something positive. Of course, he had already been praying in his head, but saying something out loud made it feel more official, and perhaps more likely to be heard.

Howie nodded. “Okay.” He set down his phone and offered Brian his hand. “You wanna say it? You’re better at this stuff than me.”

“Sure.” Brian clasped Howie’s clammy hand and closed his eyes. “Dear Lord, we ask that you watch over our brother Nick, that you guide the surgeons’ hands and help them to heal his wounds.” His voice wavered, but he kept talking. “We also ask you to be with our friend Mike as he recovers from his injury, and may your angels be on the wings of Lauren’s plane so she can get here safely. In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed Howie, letting go of his hand.

Brian felt a little better after the prayer, but he could not stop thinking about Nick. He tried to remember the good times, that fun first phase of their twenty-four-year friendship, when they’d been inseparable. Nick had been like the little brother he’d never had, and even though Brian was five years older, the age gap between them had never mattered much. But as they’d both grown up, they had grown apart. And instead of focusing on those happy days of Frick and Frack, Brian now found himself dwelling on all the ways he’d let Nick down.

Ten years ago, Brian might have been thinking about all the ways Nick had let him down instead. The list had been long back then, when Nick was at his worst, drinking heavily and doing drugs, showing up hours late at the recording studio, strung out and hungover. Brian hadn’t approved of his party-boy lifestyle, and he’d let Nick know it in no uncertain terms.

But Nick had turned his life around since then, become a completely different person, and still, Brian’s first thought upon hearing that his friend had been assaulted was, Leave it to Nick to get into a bar fight. Without knowing any of the details, he’d just assumed it was Nick’s fault, that Nick had gone and screwed up again, gotten himself into some serious trouble this time. The way Mike told it, Nick had done nothing wrong.

Brian hated himself for thinking the worst of him. And while Howie felt guilty for not being there, Brian felt guilty for not even knowing Nick was staying in Atlanta all weekend. He’d probably mentioned it at some point, but if he had, Brian hadn’t made it a point to remember. Here he’d been hosting a Halloween party less than an hour away from where Nick was being attacked. If only he had known. If he had, he could have invited Nick to his party, possibly prevented him from even being at that particular bar on that particular night.

But would he have? The sad fact of the matter was, Brian wasn’t sure that he would have. These days, he and Nick rarely hung out together when they weren’t working, and they didn’t have any mutual friends outside of the music business. Even if he had extended the invitation, he doubted Nick would have come.

Nick could have invited Brian to the convention that day, but didn’t. Brian didn’t blame him for that; when was the last time he’d gone out of his way to support one of Nick’s solo projects? Nick had practically begged him to be in his zombie movie, and Brian had said no. It was nothing against Nick; Brian had just never enjoyed acting as much as his bandmates did, and filming in Montana would have meant spending weeks away from his wife and son. Nick had said he understood, but Brian knew he was disappointed. And once the movie had premiered, there was a small part of Brian that had regretted his decision not to participate. He regretted that now more than ever.

I’m sorry, Frack, he thought, as he sat there silently next to Howie, still waiting. I wish I’d been there for you.

***

Part 3

For Howie, the biggest relief came when the surgeon showed up to talk to them about Nick. Finally, he was about to get some answers to the questions that had been plaguing his mind ever since the call.

Brian, who had been about to get them each a fresh cup of coffee, froze in his tracks when the small woman in scrubs addressed them. “Excuse me, are you gentlemen here for Mr. Carter?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, sticking out his hand as Howie rose to his feet. “I’m Brian; this is Howie. We’re his friends.”

“I’m Dr. Rhee,” the doctor introduced herself, shaking first Brian’s hand and then Howie’s. “I was part of the surgical team that operated on Nick. He’s out of surgery now and in recovery.”

“Thank God,” Howie heard Brian whisper beside him. He nodded, silently echoing the same sentiments.

“How’s he doing?” he asked Dr. Rhee.

“The surgery went as well as could be expected,” she replied. “We’ll have to wait for him to stabilize and regain consciousness before we know more. He has a long road to recovery ahead of him. Has anyone talked to you about the extent of Nick’s injuries?”

As they both shook their heads, Howie felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Despite the good news that the surgery had gone well, the doctor didn’t sound too optimistic.

“Why don’t we sit down?” she offered, motioning to the empty chairs behind them. Wordlessly, Howie and Brian sat back down. The doctor pulled another chair over and sat facing them, so close their knees were almost touching.

“Nick was unconscious when he was brought in by ambulance, so I don’t know the full story, but from what the first responders told us, he was assaulted with a baseball bat that had been wrapped in barbed wire,” the doctor began, and they both nodded to show this was not new information - not that it was any less shocking to hear for the second time. “He suffered a fracture to the smaller bone in his forearm, which was most likely a defensive wound - he must have held up his arm to protect his face. An orthopedic surgeon set the bone while he was under anesthesia, and it should heal up fine.”

Howie nodded again, thinking a broken arm didn’t sound so bad. But the doctor wasn’t done.

“Unfortunately, at some point, Nick was also struck in the head,” she added, and he heard Brian gasp. The nausea he’d felt when Mike was telling them what had happened was back with a vengeance now; Howie clapped his hand across his mouth, afraid he was going to be sick. “The blow fractured his skull and caused some bleeding around his brain, as well as severe facial lacerations. We were able to stop the bleeding and repair Nick’s skull, but we won’t be able to assess whether or not he suffered any neurological damage or long-term side effects until he regains consciousness.”

“But he will regain consciousness… right?” Brian asked. He sounded hopeful, yet Howie didn’t miss the moment’s pause, the slight hesitation that told him Brian was also wondering about the worse-case scenario.

Dr. Rhee pursed her lips. “As much as I’d like to tell you yes, I can’t say that with one hundred percent certainty,” she admitted. “Until the anesthesia wears off, it’s really too early to tell.”

Howie took a deep breath. “When you say he might have brain damage or other side effects… how bad are we talking here?”

“He was struck on the left side of his forehead, which caused a hematoma - a buildup of blood between his skull and the outer covering of his brain. This put pressure on his left frontal lobe, the part of the brain that controls language, emotions, and analytical thinking. Although we were able to operate and relieve the pressure, you may see some changes to Nick’s personality and cognitive abilities as his brain recovers.”

Howie’s heart sank. The possibility that Nick would never be the same again was almost too much for him to process. But, sitting next to him, Brian couldn’t help but crack a joke.

“Well, Nick’s never been real good with words, so I doubt it’ll make much difference,” he said, chuckling.

“Brian!” cried Howie, his mouth dropping open in disbelief as he turned to stare at his bandmate, shocked that he would make such a tone-deaf comment at a time like this.

Brian’s face immediately reddened, and he looked sheepish. “Sorry,” he said, his shoulders hunching as he slouched in his seat. “That probably sounded insensitive. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Howie just shook his head. Turning away from Brian before he snapped at him again in front of Dr. Rhee, he asked her, “When can we see him?”

“I’ll send someone to get you once he’s stable,” she promised.

As soon as she left, Brian started apologizing again. “I’m really sorry, Howie. That was a damn stupid thing to say. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Howie shrugged. “It was a bad joke… but I know it was just a joke,” he replied, forcing himself to forgive Brian for his blunder. He knew Brian hadn’t meant what he’d said. That was just his way of handling uncomfortable situations - by making bad jokes. “You did have a point, though - Nicky’s always been more ‘right-brained’.”

Brian smiled and took a swipe at his eyes. “Just as long as he can still sing,” he said softly.

Howie smiled back sadly. Even though a part of Brian must have secretly envied Nick’s vocals, he sounded sincere. Howie echoed the same sentiments before they fell back into an uneasy silence.

***

For Brian, the biggest relief came when a nurse arrived with the news they’d been waiting to hear: Nick was awake.

He and Howie followed her from the surgical waiting room to the Neuro-ICU, where the nurse said Nick would be spending the next few days under close observation.

“How’s he doing?” Brian heard Howie ask the nurse in a hushed voice. He saw the look of anxiety on his friend’s face and knew he was thinking back to their conversation with the surgeon. Howie wasn’t usually the worrier of the group - that was Kevin’s job - but this time, he seemed to be assuming the worst, that Nick would wake up as a drooling invalid. Don’t be so negative, D, thought Brian. He had to believe that Nick would be fine. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine the alternative.

The nurse smiled. “See for yourself,” she said, as she ushered them into the unit. Her response bolstered Brian’s belief in the best-case scenario. If Nick wasn’t doing well, she would have tried to prepare them first, wouldn’t she?

But when he and Howie reached the end of Nick’s bed, Brian’s heart jumped into his throat as he caught sight of his little brother. Nick was hooked up to a bunch of monitoring equipment, but he wasn’t bothered by all the tubes and wires. He had expected to see those, having spent some time in ICU himself after his heart surgery years ago. What he hadn’t expected was how Nick would look. Somehow, despite hearing both Mike and the doctor describe Nick’s injuries, it was only now that it hit Brian just how badly Nick had been hurt. His face was almost unrecognizable, the left side swollen and bruised. His head was wrapped in a thick layer of gauze bandages, reminding Brian absurdly of his mummy look from their music video for “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back).” His eyes were closed, the left one blackened and likely swollen shut. But when Brian cleared his throat nervously, Nick’s right eye fluttered open.

“Hey,” Brian said, his voice cracking hoarsely. He cleared his throat again, knowing it would do no good. He had little control over the way his voice came and went, and the stress of the situation was only going to make it worse. It didn’t help that his heart still felt like it was lodged in his throat, hammering against his larynx and making it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“Hi, Nicky,” Howie added, his own voice sounding higher-pitched than usual. “It’s good to see you awake. How ya feelin’, bro?”

They both stared at Nick, waiting anxiously for him to speak, wondering if he would even be able to. Nick blinked once, twice, and a few, agonizing seconds passed before he finally responded: “Like I just got my brains bashed in, dude… What do you think?”

Brian sagged with relief, his heart returning to its proper place in his chest and beating normally again. Nick’s speech sounded slow and slightly slurred, but at least he was making sense - and both his memory and his sense of humor seemed to be intact. Thank you, Lord, thought Brian, sending a silent prayer of gratitude toward his heavenly Father.

Howie chuckled. “Solid point. Stupid question, I guess. I’m just glad you’re gonna be okay.”

Not trusting his voice at that moment, Brian just nodded in agreement.

Nick offered a crooked smile that looked more like a grimace. “Yeah… I guess I’m lucky. Not many people get Lucilled and live to tell the tale.” When Brian and Howie looked at each other in confusion, Nick made an impatient noise and added, “Seriously, when are you guys gonna start watching The Walking Dead?”

Brian smiled back at him. “Hey, maybe we’ll binge-watch it with you while you’re stuck here,” he suggested.

“You guys don’t have to stick around that long,” said Nick. “I know you’ve got other stuff going on, and I’m sure Lauren will come keep me company once I call her.”

“The hospital already called her, and she’s on her way,” Howie told him. “She should be here soon.”

“But we’re not going anywhere,” Brian said, frowning. He supposed he couldn’t blame Nick for assuming he wouldn’t want to stay. After all, when was the last time he’d gone out of his way to do anything for one of the other guys? He couldn’t remember, and the realization stung. It made him feel like a selfish piece of shit. Maybe this was supposed to be his wake-up call, a sign that he should find a better balance between his family and the group, and make spending time with the guys a priority again. “I’m sorry, Nick,” he added softly. “I should have been there for you.”

“Where, at the bar?” asked Nick, laughing, then grimacing again at the pain it must have caused him to do so. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be.”

“I know,” admitted Brian. “You wouldn’t expect me to be anywhere that’s outside my comfort zone or away from my family because I almost never am… but maybe I should be more often.” He swallowed hard, as emotion swelled in his throat. “I’m gonna try to be better at that,” he promised, his voice cracking again. “I’m gonna try to be a better friend.”

“So am I,” said Howie. Shaking his head, he added, “I’m sorry, too. I wish I hadn’t flown home so early. It wouldn’t have killed me to go to that convention with you.”

“Actually, it might have,” Nick replied, barely missing a beat, as he gestured to his bandaged head. They both laughed, and Brian found himself feeling grateful, once again, that Nick still had his sense of humor. “Seriously, I’m glad you guys weren’t there with me. I wouldn’t have wanted either of you to get hurt.”

“Well, for once, we’re glad you’re so hard-headed,” Brian said, and they all laughed again.

“Hey, how’s Mike?” Nick asked suddenly, as the laughter faded away. “Is he okay?”

“He had to have surgery on his knee, but he’s going to be fine,” said Howie. “We saw him earlier. Maybe you can convince someone to bring him up here for a visit later.”

“Thank god,” Nick whispered, closing his eye as he sighed with relief. “That was so fuckin’ scary. We could’ve both been killed.”

“But you weren’t,” Howie said firmly, and to Brian, it sounded as if he was trying to reassure himself as much as Nick. “Now you just need to focus on getting better so you can get out of here and back to that wife and baby of yours.”

Nick nodded slightly. A brief smile flickered across his face at the mention of his family, but there were tears in his eye.

Howie cleared his throat. “Speaking of which,” he added, checking his phone, “Lauren’s plane landed half an hour ago. She should be almost to the hospital by now. I’m gonna go down to the lobby to wait for her and walk her up here.”

Brian slid his own phone out of his pocket. “While you do that, I’m gonna give Kev and AJ a call and fill them in,” he said. It was late enough on the West Coast by now that he wouldn’t be waking either of them up. “We’ll be back in a few, okay, Frack? Try to get some rest.”

“Thanks,” Nick whispered, nodding again, as he let his eye slide shut once more.

Brian followed Howie out into the hallway. Before he could head toward the elevator, Brian pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, patting Howie’s back. “You’ve been a better friend to him than I have, that’s for sure.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Bri,” Howie replied, squeezing him back. “Things change when you fall in love and start a family. Priorities shift. We both know how hard it can be to find the right balance. Even Nick knows that now. You were just the first to find out, and yeah, for a while, Nick resented you for it. But he doesn’t anymore.”

Do you? Brian wondered, but he didn’t ask. It didn’t matter. Their rivalry was in the past, and all that mattered now was Nick’s recovery. “Thanks. Love you, man,” Brian replied as he released Howie, realizing he probably didn’t say those words enough - not sincerely, anyway.

Howie smiled at him and offered his trademark cheesy wink. “Love you too, bro.”

***