Chapter 1

The open road stretched out in front of me, three lanes of freshly striped asphalt flanked by tall trees and rolling hills. The sky above was overcast, but I could see patches of blue peeking through the dull gray clouds.

Keeping my right hand on the wheel, I took my left hand off the accelerator and reached toward the door, dragging my knuckle over the power window switch to crack my window open. The warm summer breeze whipped through my hair, carrying with it a faint aroma of manure from the nearby horse farms. I didn’t mind the smell; it reminded me that I was home.

Strains of Lynyrd Skynyrd played through the speakers. “Crank it up, man,” I said, struggling to hear the music clearly over the rush of the wind.

In the passenger seat, my friend Keith leaned forward to turn up the volume on my stereo.

“‘Cause I’m as free as a bird now,” I sang, letting my voice blend with Ronnie Van Zant’s. “And this bird you cannot change…”

As the music picked up, I bobbed my head to the beat. Glancing into the rearview mirror, I smiled when I saw Mason doing the same in the back seat. Like father, like son. His nanny, Dawn, sat next to him, drumming her fingers on the door as she gazed out her window.

The song was winding down when we passed a road sign welcoming us to the Louisville metro area. Keith cleared his throat. “All right, Kev, enough classic rock. I say we listen to a little something to get us in the mood for the show tonight.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him fish something out of his backpack. “Oh, good lord,” I groaned as he put a CD in my truck’s player. Seconds later, the sound of heavy drum beats filled the interior, followed by a familiar synthesized melody. Oh, oh, oh-oh-oh… oh, oh, oh-oh… oh, oh, oh-oh-oh…

“The right stuff!” Keith sang along, giving me a wicked grin as I glared over at him. “First time was a great time. Second time was a blast. Third time I fell in love; now I hope it lasts…”

I shook my head, snorting at the obnoxious, nasal, high-pitched voice he was putting on. “Dude, it’s bad enough we have to hear this in person tonight without you torturing us all on the way there.” I bumped a button on my steering wheel with my thumb to lower the volume.

“Turn it up, Daddy!” Mason shouted from the back seat.

Keith snickered. “Your son seems to be enjoying it. How ‘bout you, Dawn?”

“Are you kidding?” she called back. “I was listening to Def Leppard and GNR in the late eighties, not these little pretty boys! I’m too old for this crap.”

It was my turn to laugh. “You tell him, Dawn!” I said, catching her eye in the rearview mirror.

She grinned. “All I can say is, it’s a good thing I’m getting paid to go to this show, and I’m glad you didn’t have to buy the tickets.”

I smiled back at her. “Yeah, it helps to have connections. At least half the music won’t make your ears bleed.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a wink.

We were on our way to a concert co-headlined by my former band, the Backstreet Boys, and our predecessors, New Kids on the Block, who had formed a supergroup called NKOTBSB – something I never would have agreed to if I were still part of the group. I hadn’t been a Backstreet Boy for five years, but when my cousin Brian had called to invite me to come to their only concert in our home state of Kentucky, I couldn’t say no. It would be good to see the guys again and give my son a glimpse at what my life had been like before he was born – before the crash that had claimed his mom’s life and changed mine forever.

My smile faded as I refocused on the road, remembering how quickly it had happened. In an instant, my whole world had been turned upside down. It had taken months of rehabilitation for me to return to some semblance of normalcy, although my life would never be the same again. Even now, three-and-a-half years later, I still needed a lot of help. I had hired Dawn to be Mason’s nanny and my personal assistant when we moved back to Lexington, Kentucky about a year after the accident, and she went almost everywhere with us. At least I was usually the one behind the wheel these days, instead of riding in the back while she chauffeured me around. I had bought the custom-built, black Chevy Silverado as a birthday gift to myself and learned how to drive with hand controls since I could no longer work the foot pedals. Driving gave me a sense of freedom and independence I hadn’t felt since becoming disabled.

Trying to tune out the New Kids, I followed the signs to the KFC Yum! Center in downtown Louisville. Once we arrived at the arena, I found an accessible place to park and turned off the truck. With the press of a button, I opened my door, which automatically extended outward and lowered me to the ground. Another button released the lock that bolted my wheelchair to the bottom of the lift. Reaching back with both hands, I gripped the pushrims of my wheels and rolled forward. Dawn helped Mason out of his car seat and held his hand as they followed me and Keith toward the venue. Keith had texted the Boys’ head of security, Q, to let him know we were there, and he’d told us to meet him behind the arena, where the tour buses were parked.

“Kevy Kev!” AJ was the first one to come running up to me when we got backstage. He bent down and threw his arms around me. “Good to see ya, bro.”

“You too,” I said, smiling as I hugged him back. “How’s it goin’?”

“Great!” he replied with a grin. “I miss my Monkee, but otherwise, life is good.”

I was glad to hear him say that. AJ had started the year with another stint in rehab after relapsing around his birthday in January, but he looked healthy, happy, and sober now. I had met his fiancee, Rochelle, a handful of times since they’d started seeing each other a couple of years earlier, and she seemed to help him stay grounded. “She’s not with you on the road?”

He shook his head. “Nah, she spent a week with me at the beginning of the month when we were on the West Coast, but she had to get back to work.”

“Ah, right.” I remembered that Rochelle was a makeup artist in Los Angeles. “How’s the wedding planning going?”

“It’s been difficult trying to make decisions together while I’m on the road, but it’s coming together,” he replied. “One thing I do know: It’s gonna be the most unique wedding you’ve ever seen.”

I chuckled. “I would expect nothing less from you, AJ.”

“Yo, Kevin!” Nick appeared next. “Nice wheels, bro!” he exclaimed after he’d hugged me, standing back to admire my new wheelchair.

“Thanks. It finally came in a couple months ago.” I did a little spin, showing the custom chair off from all angles. It was mostly black, but the frame was a shiny Kentucky blue, my favorite color.

“Slick, dude. That’s awesome.” Nick smiled and patted me on the back. “I know you’ve been working hard to get to this point. Way to go, dawg.”

I nodded. It had taken me more than three years of therapy to regain enough arm strength and control to qualify for a manual wheelchair, one I could push myself instead of the motorized chair I controlled with a joystick. “Thanks. I still have my power chair for longer distances, but this one’s so much more lightweight and convenient. I love it.”

“I bet Baylee’s gonna be disappointed,” said Nick, laughing. “You know how much he loved playing with that power chair.”

Sure enough, when Brian’s son saw me, the first words out of his mouth were, “Uncle Kevin! Where’s your power wheels?!”

I immediately glanced at Nick, who gave me a knowing smile. “Sorry, buddy, I left it at home,” I told Baylee. “How do you like my new chair?”

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “It’s pretty cool, I guess. Can it go fast?”

“Let’s find out,” I said with a grin. “Race you to the green room?”

Baylee took off running, and I followed, pumping my arms as fast as I could to propel myself down the hall. Of course, he beat me easily, even before his mom, Leighanne, poked her head out of a doorway and shouted, “Baylee! No run-!” The rest of the words died on her lips when she looked down the hall and saw me racing her son. “Oh! Hi, Kevin!” Her angry face relaxed into a smile.

“Hey, Leighanne,” I replied, smiling back sheepishly. “Sorry… I’m a bad influence.”

She let out a high-pitched, fake laugh. “Oh, no, you’re fine! I didn’t know you were with him. How are you?” She came into the hall and gave me an awkward hug.

“I’m good. How ‘bout you?”

“Great! I just got back from my Wylee party!”

I knew how proud Leighanne was of her small business, a line of diaper bags she’d designed that had expanded to handbags, scarves, and other accessories. “Oh, yeah? How was it?”

“Amazing! These Louisville gals love their Wylee!” she replied with a smile. “How are you liking yours?”

I looked over my shoulder to make sure my custom Wylee bag was still hanging on the back of my chair. Leighanne had given it to me as a Christmas gift last year. I had to hand it to her: she had done her research and thought of everything when designing it to meet my needs. The vegan leather backpack had magnetic snaps that I could easily use to open and close it and plenty of large pockets to hold the adaptive tools and medical supplies I brought with me everywhere I went. “I love it,” I told her. “It’s real handy! Thanks again.”

She beamed. “Oh, good! You are so welcome!”

Brian followed Leighanne out of the room. “Hey, cuz!” he greeted me with a big smile, leaning over to give me a hug as well. “How’s it goin’?” His voice sounded slightly hoarse; I wondered if he was coming down with or getting over a summer cold.

“Good! How ya doin’?”

“Not bad. Hey, you got a new chair!” he exclaimed, his blue eyes lighting up. He didn’t look sick.

I smiled and nodded, repeating the same conversation I’d had with Nick a few minutes earlier as we rejoined the others. Nick and AJ were now kneeling in front of Mason, giving him fist bumps. My smile grew as I watched them interact. Mason may not have remembered the four months his “uncles” had spent living with us after the accident, but I would never forget the way they had stepped up to help take care of the two of us.

Howie was the last one to wander down the hall, holding hands with his two-year-old son, James. “Hey, Kevin!” he called. “Glad you could make it!”

“Wouldn’t have missed it, brother,” I replied, reaching up to wrap my arms around him as he bent down to hug me. I smiled at James, who was staring curiously at me. “He’s sure getting big.”

Howie nodded. “I know! So is Mason.”

“Tell me about it.” I glanced over at my son, who was showing Baylee the Hot Wheels car he’d brought with him, part of a set I had given him for his fourth birthday a few weeks earlier. “I’m already dreading the day when he’s too big to sit in my lap.”

“It goes by fast,” Brian agreed, following my line of sight. “I can’t believe Baylee’s gonna be nine this year. They’ll be driving real cars before we know it.”

A lump rose in my throat as I watched the two little blond boys crawl around on the floor, rolling the toy car between them. Though I looked forward to the milestones to come, such as teaching my son to drive, I would never wish away moments like these. In some ways, the last four years had felt like the longest of my life, yet I could remember bringing newborn Mason home from the hospital like it was yesterday.

Nick’s voice brought me back to the present. “C’mon, Kev, I’ll introduce you to the other guys,” he said, motioning for me to follow him.

“Okay,” I said, assuming “the other guys” meant the New Kids. Truth be told, I wasn’t all that excited about meeting them, but Jordan, Jonathan, Joey, Donnie, and Danny turned out to be really nice guys. They welcomed me with open arms, making me feel like I was part of the group.

“Yo, Kevin, you should do the encore with us, too,” Donnie told me as we talked backstage. “It’s a mash-up of ‘Backstreet’s Back’ and ‘Hangin’ Tough.’”

I had originally only agreed to go onstage with the Boys for one song, “I Want It That Way,” so I was hesitant. “Thanks, but I don’t think so,” I replied. “I don’t know any of y’all’s choreography – not that I could do it even if I did. I definitely can’t bust out the ‘Backstreet’s Back’ dance like I used to.” I glanced down at my useless legs and back up again, giving him a crooked grin.

Donnie chuckled. “Dude, our choreography’s nowhere near as complicated as Backstreet’s. All we really do for ‘Hangin’ Tough’ is wave our right hand back and forth in the air, like this.” He demonstrated, humming the chorus of his song. “You can do that, right?”

“Well, yeah… kinda. I can raise my hands; I just can’t straighten out my fingers,” I explained, showing him how they remained curled into a loose fist.

He waved me off. “Hey, no worries, man; that’s okay. No one’s gonna care about that.”

“Yeah, and we don’t even do the ‘Backstreet’s Back’ dance during the encore,” AJ chimed in. “It’s mostly just rocking back and forth. You’ll catch on right away, and you can totally do it from your chair.”

“Well… okay,” I finally agreed. I didn’t want to get up there and make a fool of myself in front of thousands of people, but it felt good to be included. Plus, I was looking forward to showing my son what his dad used to do for a living.

Mason had never been to a concert before. I had Dawn take him to his seat right before showtime, knowing neither of them would be recognized by the fans, but I waited backstage with Keith until the arena lights went dark. Once the audience was distracted by the faces of their favorite boy band flashing across the huge video screens overhead, Keith and I managed to sneak in unseen. We had seats in the last row of one of the lower level sections on the side. Well, Keith had a seat – I had an empty space to park my chair behind the railing that separated our accessible row from the regular seats. It was far enough back that I could just barely see over the heads of the women standing in front of me. Mason quickly crawled into my lap so that he could see the stage, too.

When the video intro finished, a white curtain dropped to reveal the nine members of NKOTBSB standing on a raised platform. The crowd went wild. Hearing the high-pitched shrieks ringing through the arena brought me right back to 1999, when the Backstreet Boys had been able to sell out even bigger stadiums by themselves. It gave me goosebumps on the parts of my body I could feel. The back of my neck prickled as the riff from Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida” began to play, and the platform slowly descended to the stage below it. There was a part of me that wished I was standing on it with the other guys.

Joey McIntyre stepped forward to sing the first verse of a New Kids song I wasn’t familiar with. Then the New Kids turned around, putting their backs to the crowd, and AJ came out to sing the beginning of “The One.”

“See Uncle AJ?” I asked Mason, motioning to one of the video screens. I wasn’t sure if he could even hear me through the headphones I’d made him wear to protect his ears from the loud music. He just stared, open-mouthed, as the mash-up continued and the group members made their way down the long catwalk that led from the main stage to another movable platform in the center of the arena. It was a well-executed opening number, ending with one band on each of the circular platforms, high above the heads of the screaming fans on the floor. Then the lights went dark, the Boys disappeared, and the New Kids launched into another one of their newer singles before the Boys came back out to sing “The Call.”

It went back and forth like that for a while, with the two groups trading off stage time, and I wondered if it would be that way all night. But, eventually, they launched into longer sets, singing a few songs at a time before turning it over to the other group. It was interesting to see the contrast between them. The Boys clearly had the better vocals, although Brian’s voice occasionally cracked or wavered, making me wonder again if he was under the weather. Their choreography was also more intricate, while the New Kids’ dance moves mostly consisted of rocking back and forth and waving their right hands in the air, just like Donnie had said. But, even I had to admit, he and his bandmates were still great entertainers.

I’d had mixed feelings about the whole NKOTBSB endeavor when I had first found out about it from Brian. “Won’t it make you feel like one of those old, washed-up bands who have to co-headline their reunion tours ‘cause they can’t sell out shows by themselves anymore?” I’d asked him candidly. “I could see New Kids on the Block being that way, but y’all are too young for that.”

“I know what you mean, but it’s not like it used to be, Kev,” Brian had told me. “We can’t sell out big arenas anymore, at least not here in the States. We’ve been lucky to be able to book the smaller amphitheaters for our last few U.S. tours. But you should have heard the crowd go wild when we got onstage with the New Kids at Radio City Music Hall. It was crazy! It felt like old times.”

I had seen the video of their surprise appearance at the NKOTB concert earlier that year. Apparently, the New Kids had extended the invitation to the Boys to perform with them, and, of course, the Boys had accepted as a professional courtesy. It was no secret that New Kids on the Block had paved the way for the Backstreet Boys; our group had been modeled after their formula for a successful boy band. In fact, most of us had been required to sing a New Kids song as part of the audition process. But, since then, we had tried to break out of the bubblegum boy band mold and set ourselves apart as a vocal harmony group made of five guys who could actually sing, rather than a bunch of pretty boys who had been put together for their looks more than their talent. Teaming up with the group we had once tried to separate ourselves from felt like taking a step backwards to me – not that my opinion mattered anymore. Nick, AJ, and Howie were all on board for a collaboration, according to Brian, and before I knew it, NKOTBSB was performing at the American Music Awards and in Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

I remembered sitting in my wheelchair in front of my TV on the third anniversary of the accident, watching my former bandmates with tears in my eyes and wishing my life had turned out differently. I tried not to feel sorry for myself, but some days were harder than others. The anniversary of my injury and my wife’s death was always one of the worst. Kristin’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks, and I knew that would be a hard day as well. But I tried not to dwell on it, turning my attention back to the concert.

The Boys were onstage, performing a set of the classics that included “As Long As You Love Me,” “All I Have to Give,” “We’ve Got It Goin’ On,” and “Quit Playing Games.” They had updated the songs, cutting out verses to shorten them, adding dance breaks with samples from other artists’ songs, and changing the choreography. No chair dance. No hat dance. It was nice to see them evolve, but I felt oddly nostalgic for our old routines. I made myself a mental note to show Mason some of our old music videos the next day. He was old enough to understand that I hadn’t always been this way, that his dad used to be able to bust a move with the best of them. Now that he’d been to his first Backstreet Boys concert, he would have some context.

Toward the end of “Quit Playing Games,” I took my cue to sneak backstage. I could hear Jordan Knight screeching “I’ll Be Loving You” in an off-key falsetto as Keith accompanied me through the arena. “I Want It That Way” was coming up next. We picked up our pace, Keith pushing my chair so I could move faster.

Brian, Nick, AJ, and Howie were waiting beneath the stage, having changed into black pants and bedazzled vests with white button-down shirts. The simple gray suit I was wearing with a black shirt and tie coordinated well enough with their matching outfits, but I still felt slightly out of place in my wheelchair. I fought my nerves, forcing a smile as I shouted, “Great show so far, fellas!”

Nick grinned back and clapped me on the shoulder. “Thanks! Just wait… the crowd’s gonna lose their shit when you come out!”

The plan was for the four of them to start onstage and sing the first two verses without me. After the second chorus, the band would pause, and I would join them onstage to sing the bridge. The only problem was that there was no ramp leading up to the stage, which meant Keith and Q would have to help me up the stairs in my wheelchair. This wouldn’t have been possible with the heavy power chair I had used before, but my new manual chair was much lighter and more manageable.

As the band played the intro to “I Want It That Way,” Keith moved me into position at the bottom of the stairs, facing backward. “You ready, Kev?” he asked in my ear as he stood behind me.

I nodded. “Just don’t drop me,” I replied, winking at Q as he bent down in front of my chair and wrapped both hands around the frame. I wasn’t really worried; they were both big, strong guys who would do anything to keep me safe. But I still held my breath, trying my best to brace myself as they tilted my chair back. Carefully, they bumped my wheels up one step at a time, Keith pulling from the back while Q lifted and pushed from the front. I let out my breath in a low sigh of relief when they set me down on all four wheels at the top of the stairs. Turning my chair around, I found myself at the back of the stage, still hidden behind a curtain.

On the other side of the curtain, I could hear Brian singing the first verse. “You are… my fire. The one… desire.” The crowd sang along loudly with him. “Believe… when I say. You sing!”

“I want it that way!” Fifteen thousand fans chanted in perfect unison, putting a smile on my face.

“But we…” Nick took over the lead. “Are two worlds… apart. Can’t reach to your heart… when you say… that I want it that way. Tell me why…”

“Ain’t nothin’ but a heartache…” I closed my eyes as they came to the chorus, harmonizing in my head. “Ain’t nothin’ but a mistake. Tell me why…”

“I never wanna hear you say,” Nick sang. “I want it that way.”

As AJ started his verse, I used my teeth to tighten the velcro straps around the wrists of my fingerless black wheelchair gloves, which I wore to protect the palms of my hands and help me get a better grip on my wheels. Keith and Q stood on either side of me, waiting for my cue to pull back the curtain.

The boys sang the chorus a second time, letting the last “that way…” linger in the air as the band stopped playing.

Taking a deep breath, I planted both hands on my wheels, looked up at Keith, and nodded. He and Q parted the curtain, and I pushed myself forward. I had barely made it through the gap when the first screams rang out through the arena. They quickly escalated as a spotlight found me and a camera focused on my face, splashing it across the video screens for all the fans to see. I stopped in the center of the stage and took a few seconds to soak up the moment. Looking around, I saw grown women literally jumping up and down like little girls, throwing their hands in the air and screaming their heads off. I couldn’t help but smile. I brought my hands together and bowed my head in gratitude. Then I hooked both arms behind my arm rests, pressing my shoulder blades against my seat back to improve my posture. I sucked in another big breath, opened my mouth, and began to sing.

“Now I can see that we’ve fallen apart… from the way that it used to be, ye-eah…” At first, it was just my voice singing a capella, accompanied only by the audience’s excited cheers. But as I continued the bridge, the band came back in behind me, and AJ’s voice joined mine in harmony. “No matter the distance, I want you to know… that deep down inside of me…”

“You are… my fire,” sang Howie as he and the others gathered around me on one of the circular platforms. AJ gave me a hug; Nick gave me a fist bump. Brian beamed down at the fans who were freaking out on the floor in front of us. “The one… This is Kevin Richardson!” Howie called, pointing to me. “Desire… You are…”

“You are…” added Nick.

“You are…” I chimed in along with AJ.

“You a-are!” Brian’s voice rang above all the rest, rounding out the harmony.

“One… two… you sing!” the guys shouted, thrusting their microphones toward the audience.

And, without missing a beat, the crowd responded: “Don’t wanna hear you!”

“Ain’t nothin’ but a heartache,” we chorused. “Ain’t nothin’ but a mistake. I never wanna hear you say…” AJ and Nick came closer and leaned in, putting their heads next to mine. “I want it that way. Tell me why…”

We repeated the chorus a couple more times, inviting the crowd to sing along. Everywhere I looked, I saw smiling faces, eyes shining, lips forming our lyrics. What a blessing it was to be surrounded by so much love. Somewhere, my son was watching me. I tilted my head toward our section, but the stage lights were too bright for me to see that far back. I waved anyway, hoping he would see.

“‘Cause I… want it… Louisville’s way!” As AJ sang the final notes, Brian put his arm around me and patted my back. Each of the other guys came over to hug me as the fans continued to scream and cheer.

“Thank you, Louisville! Good to see you again!” I said into my mic.

“You know this guy,” added AJ, pointing and grinning.

As the ovation went on and on, my eyes welled with tears, and a lump swelled in my throat. “Thank you,” I mouthed, bowing my head again in appreciation.

“How’d you like to have this guy back?” Brian asked, slinging his arm around my shoulders again.

The question caught me off-guard, but as the crowd shrieked their approval, I quickly collected myself and played along. “Gotta tell you, it feels good,” I said, smiling. “It feels really good. I like it a lot,” I added, doing my best Dumb and Dumber impression.

The other guys laughed as Nick applauded me. But at that moment, it was all just an act put on for the fans. I didn’t see myself ever doing this full time again.

Yet, when I rejoined the group onstage for the encore at the end of the show, I realized just how much I had missed performing in front of an arena full of people. Was there any way I could actually come back and make it work? As we joined hands and took our final bows while confetti rained down from the rafters, I couldn’t help but wonder.

***