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“No. I’m not—”
“Let me guess, you’re not drinking anymore either?”
“No.” Saying the word burned my throat. I missed my crutch. But I couldn’t fall into a bottle so I wouldn’t feel the loss of Zoe. No alcohol was that potent. “I’m trying out this clean living thing.”
“Minus the diet aspect?” He glanced at the counter that bore the weight of my destruction. “Not that you need one.”
“Gotta have some vices.”
“No more smokes either?” Flynn pulled out a beer from the refrigerator and popped the top.
“No. I smoked the last before the first leg of the journey here.”
It had been bittersweet, finishing the final pack. I’d known I wouldn’t be buying any more. Once I set my mind to something, there was no going back.
I was done being the version of myself that had slept around with whomever struck my fancy and drank to excess and smoked even though it damaged my instrument. Whether I used that instrument again anytime soon wasn’t the point.
I wasn’t a cat. Eventually, my lives would run out. I wanted to do some living—real living—before they did.
“That’s good to hear. So, you might be able to make some use of my studio.”
Flynn said it casually. Too casually. Even a man in a food coma could tell when someone was trying to give him a nudge. “I’m on hiatus.”
“How do you go on hiatus when you’ve barely started?”
“I’ve been working toward this career for years.”
Yes, so that wasn’t the best thing to say.
“Then why would you pick now for a break?” Flynn shook his head and tipped back his beer. “Did Van push you too hard?”
“No.”
“Love troubles got you twisted up?”
“No. Well, yes, but that’s not why I’m not singing.”
“Then?”
How could I tell him? He still had a semi-decent opinion of me. I hadn’t ruined it yet. But then again, how could the decent, self-respecting man I claimed I wanted to be just shove this under the carpet as if it never existed?
I was through taking the easy way out.
“Because of me, my brother and his wife could’ve been killed.”
Flynn’s expression didn’t change. “And that froze your vocal cords?”
“What? No. Did you hear me? They could’ve both died. And she’s—” I swallowed. Margo’s pregnancy wasn’t for me to tell. “I caused it.”
“You tried to kill them?”
“No.”
“You hired someone to kill them?”
“God, no. It wasn’t me. My mum and my stepfather are twisted people. Well, only my mum now. He’s dead. She killed him.”
Flynn set his beer down on the counter and rubbed it between his palms. “You don’t believe in starting at the beginning.”
