Anybody else would probably ask me, So, did you? But Flynn doesn’t need to ask. He knows me way too well. He just looks at me, tipping his head slightly to one side, laid-back as always.

“What did you fight about?” he asks.

“We . . . God.” I rub my hair with one hand. “I was trying to tell her that I’m not into the whole relationship thing right now. I mean, she’s only interested in me because of the music thing, you know? And I don’t want to have a whole relationship based on that.”

“Hell, Anders.” Now Flynn smiles. “If it weren’t for the whole music thing, most guys in bands would be permanently undateable.”

He looks so relaxed, sitting there in his frayed jeans and scuffed leather boots, I wonder if he’s even hearing me. But of course he’s hearing me. He just doesn’t understand. He has no idea how much of this is my fault, how much of a dangerous moron I’ve been.

So I push on. “And they found that other car in the river.” I drop my voice without even meaning to. “It was her, wasn’t it? That music business woman?”

“Yeah. Sad news.” Flynn nods. Now his face looks more solemn, at least. “The police called me about that. My name was in her calendar, I guess.”

“You didn’t—” My heart is thundering. I can barely believe I’m going to say this next thing, it’s so pathetically cowardly. “Did you tell them about her meeting with me?”

Flynn pauses, scratching his upper arm before answering. “Nah. I just told them she came up to see you play. Nothing about the one-on-one. They don’t need to know about that.”

“Oh. Good.” Air whooshes out of me. “Thank you. I mean—that’s, like, the last thing I need. The police hearing that I was probably the last person to speak to both of them.”

I finally sink down on the other folding chair. I brace my forehead on my fists and stare at my lap.

I shouldn’t have said good, I realize, sitting there. I should have at least said “I’m sorry” to Flynn about losing his friend, or his business contact, or whatever she was. I should have said something about it being so terrible, the way she died. But I didn’t. Panic is turning me into an even worse person. Or maybe it’s just revealing how bad I actually am.

Flynn sits quietly, comfortably, next to me. His chair creaks as he crosses his legs again.

“That’s where you made your big mistake, kid,” he says slowly.

I drop my fists. I look up at him.

“You should have said yes,” Flynn says, even slower. “You should have just said yes to both of them. Then none of this would ever have happened.”

I stare at him, trying to breathe.

Flynn stares straight back at me. “Think about it. How much have you said no to? Representation. Recording deals. At least two TV appearances that I know of. Even this girl, Frankie Lynde.” Flynn shakes his head at me, grinning now. “What the hell are you doing, Anders?”