“And I appreciate that. I don’t know what I would’ve done without my friends and family the last couple of months.”

“Any thoughts about going back to work?” Derek was deputy chief of staff to President Nelson, who, like Nick, was up for reelection next month.

“After the election, if he wins and if he wants me back. I can’t even think about wading back into the action at this point.”

Nick patted his friend’s back. “He’ll win, and he wants you back. He’s already told you that.”

Derek shrugged. “Not sure my heart’s in it anymore.”

“Give it some time. Don’t make any big decisions.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

Over Derek’s shoulder, Nick watched Shelby play peekaboo with Maeve, making the little girl laugh.

Her laughter drew a small smile from her dad. “Life goes on, right?”

“You’re going to be okay, Derek.”

“Keep telling me that. Maybe one day I’ll believe it.”

“You got it.”

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The Secret Service agents moved swiftly to usher Nick and his friends to their vehicles. Nick and Scotty were escorted to the large black SUV that had been getting them around for the last two months. Watching Scotty buckle in, Nick was amused by how well the boy had adapted to not only a new family but also the nuisance of around-the-clock protection.

“Sorry about all this, pal.”

“All what?”

“Having to leave the game before it’s over, the Secret Service, all the hassle.”

“Seriously? It’s awesome. My new friends at school think I’m someone important because the agents follow me around.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh. Don’t worry, it’s cool.”

“Would you tell me if it wasn’t?”

Scotty took a moment, thought about that. “If I thought there was something you could do about it. It’s not like you’re thrilled with the Secret Service hanging around.”

Nick had been quite vocal about his dislike of being shadowed everywhere he went. “It’s annoying as all hell. I didn’t appreciate my freedom until it was gone.”

“Imagine what it’d be like to be president.”

“Yeah.” He’d thought about that quite a lot since the convention and the subsequent buzz about him running for president in four years.

“Do you ever wonder... Nah, never mind.”

“Wonder about what?”

“People talk, ya know?”

Nick eyed him warily. “And? What do these people say?”

“That my new dad might be president someday and what would that be like. You know, for me.”

Scotty was so sweet and considerate, not unlike the twelve-year-old Nick had once been. Nick had lived in constant fear that his grandmother would get tired of having him around and send him to a foster home, so he’d been on best behavior at all times. “What do you tell them when they ask you?”